Metacognitions and Other Ramblings

Welcome Jedi Bautista

2009-07-26T13:12:00.003-05:00

Jeremy, Cristine, and Micah welcome Jedidiah Yonggi Bautista.

Jedidiah (Jedi) is of Hebrew origin, and means "beloved of the Lord." 2 Samuel 12:24-25

Yonggi is of Korean origin, and means "courage."

Born on July 26, 2009 at 9:20 am.
8 lbs. 2 oz., 21 inches.

Just Checking...

2009-07-25T14:49:00.000-05:00

I just needed to make sure this thing works.

Illinois Milkman?

2009-02-20T19:52:00.003-06:00

Seriously, is Jim Oberweis running for Illinois Milkman? I mean, can he win anything else? This is a real billboard I saw while out to lunch this week in Downers Grove. Is Illinois politics that wacky?

20090219_Oberweis-crop
Originally uploaded by Jeremy Bautista

Old Country Buffet

2009-02-14T02:56:00.003-06:00

So my wife, son, and I are sitting in Old Country Buffet last weekend. We never really thought we'd be there so often. We like that you walk in and can eat right away--it is a buffet. And, my son still east for free (for now). It's not terribly expensive. And frankly, it's easy. Look, I'm not saying it's gourmet spaghetti or pot roast or something. C'mon, this is still OCB we're talking about. But we like it well enough... And then, I really took a look around.

Remember that episode from This American Life that chronicled 24 Hours at the Golden Apple in Chicago? I feel like you could almost do something similar at OCB. See, when I took a good look around, I saw... not to be overly sappy, but... America.

As I faced the buffet tables, to my left were two tables of elderly folks. They were just relaxing and eating. A middle aged woman sat further from the food separating 3D glasses from a long sheet of them. As she got a few cleared, she passed them to the elderly folks one-by-one giving them few instructions. Some of the older men tried them on and looked around the restaurant themselves. Earlier, they were talking about the Super Bowl and how they knew that there was a game, but didn't know who was playing. They looked like they were out for a great time later watching... something in 3D.

Directly between my table and the food, there was a mom with her two young children. They were older than Micah and didn't need a high chair. They were dressed really nicely--as if they were coming from church--but it was Saturday. Maybe they were orthodox? A staff member came by with fresh cinnamon rolls and offered the woman a roll. I'm not sure she spoke English. She accepted with a nod, but no words and continuing to look blankly into space. The kids looked at our table often.

To my right and behind me was another mother with her two teen age kids. She looked shorter and a dressed kind of frumpy while her kids were tall (much taller than her), thin, and obviously struggled with acne. I saw them pay for their meal while we were already eating and came in with little fanfare. That differed from the family behind me.

A large family, about two tables worth--however, they had the baby high chair off the end--sat down behind us. They were bigger people, for sure, but very nice about getting through the space behind me and their own chairs. In the past, we've sat next to loud African American families sitting down for a good time--nothing wrong with that. I was a little surprised, but didn't really care either way, that this family was a little more subdued. It looked there were possibly 3 generations together for this meal and everyone had a smile on their face.

Beyond them, even further behind me was a Latino family that didn't quite fill 1.5 tables, but seemed to be enjoying themselves also.

To my left, yet still behind me were a couple tables of high school kids. I think that one group was from Willowbrook and the other group from Montini Catholic. It's funny because it reminded me of my high school days and how we used to identify each other by our varsity jackets and/or school gear. In this case, while they walked back and forth between their tables and the food practically side-by-side, they only joked and shared laughs with the friends they came with. No surprise, but it does take me back.

And then immediately to my left, sat this elderly and partially frail gentleman who sat alone at his table. He faced the food like I did, but had nothing to distract him except his own food. My son looked like he was in need to a break, so my wife took him for a walk around the buffet tables. As soon as she left, this man next to me, without really looking at me, asked me, "How old is he?" I said, "17 months." I didn't respond figuring that he started and it would be up to him to keep up the small talk. He didn't respond further... My wife came back momentarily, but whisked herself and my son to the washroom for a diaper change. The man spoke up again, and again without really looking at me, "What nationality is your wife?" "Korean," I said. "Did you meet her in the service?" he inquired. I was a little surprised at that and claimed no such distinction. But, he's trying... So I asked him, "Did you serve?" "Korea, 3 tours." He then started in about how he thought the Koreans were very perceptive and how he loved the beer and how beautiful the country was. I thanked him for his military service and engaged him momentarily... that is, until he decided he needed more food. At that point, it was time to get going... "Nice to meet you!" I said as we walked out...

I think that the more I sit in Old Country Buffet, the more I like America. I know that's a little out-there to say, but really, if you're above OCB--and I'm not talking about the food here, I mean OCB as a place--you're not seeing America. It's not expensive--and who isn't struggling for cash these days. It's diverse--Black, White, Yellow, Spanish, English, European, Young, Old, in the middle. And there's simply no pretension about this place. C'mon, it's not the best food on the planet. We're not talking Wolfgang Puck or Rachel Ray here. But, no one is there critiquing the food. For goodness sake, we're walking around with food on serving trays like we did in grade school or at the cafe in college. But like those days, it wasn't about the food. It was about, come as you are. I looked around and proably got one of the best snapshots of the cross-section of America just sitting in the OCB. Could you imagine the stories behind the people that come through those doors? I really dig that.

Lastly, I noticed that they had inserted electrical outlet covers on the wall outlets. Really? They thought it prudent enough to keep the wandering hands of little kids out of their electrical outlets. OCB was ready for anything, and apparently welcomes all through their doors. Not a bad place at all. Not at all.

Coincidence? Westmont's Sister School?

2009-02-14T00:54:00.004-06:00

So you think Westmont High School is "unique" in architecture? It's been called a "space ship" and a "mushroom" in the past and nothing really compared to it. For me, I always knew that Illinois Math and Science Academy had the same architect work on their original design. That's why the staircases look similar in both buildings. But this find goes a bit further than that.

While reading a post on Facebook, a former Westmont High School alum wrote about Freedom High School in Morganton, North Carolina. Take a look at the satellite photography on both buildings:

Westmont High School:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=909+Oakwood+Dr,+Westmont,+IL+60559&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=33.847644,76.201172&ie=UTF8&ll=41.819032,-87.962326&spn=0.001943,0.004651&t=h&z=18

Freedom High School:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=511+Independence+Blvd.,+Morganton,+NC+28655&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=33.847644,76.201172&ie=UTF8&ll=35.744845,-81.719608&spn=0.002116,0.004651&t=h&z=18

Has Westmont found its long lost sister school after all these years?

Veinticinco cosas al azar (25 Random Things)

2009-02-01T03:37:00.002-06:00

I didn't write the rules. I'm not a fan of surveys. But, after the first one, I had to finish all 25. Sorry for the tag. Hope life's treating you all well. =)

----- The "Rules" -----

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)

If you've been tagged its because I consider you the type of person to be the least annoyed by being tagged. If I have done so in error and you are highly annoyed please forgive the intrusion.

----- The "List" -----

1. I owe my love for the Cubs, politics, and diplomacy to my grandfather
2. The first CD I ever owned was "Off the Wall" by Michael Jackson
3. I missed wide at my first attempt at my first kiss
4. My family owned an original 128K Macintosh
5. Both my thumbs are double-jointed
6. In my college days, I would visit other campuses and be able to "sense" where the nearest Kinko's was
7. As a medium, I love radio far more than television
8. As for content, I love talk radio hands down over music replay
9. While I try to avoid and hate myself when I do watch Gray's Anatomy, I will still ask my wife what happened so don't miss any details
10. A bird pooped on my head, on my baseball cap, during junior high
11. At any given time I could have 2 cell phones, my camera, my iPod, my home keys, and my work keys attached to my belt or belt loops - yes, I am Inspector Gadget
12. (Sadly,) I often average less than 10 haircuts a year
13. While I volunteered at a Spanish speaking radio station for a handful of years, my level of Spanish is still the same as it was when I worked at McDonalds at age 16 (seis piezas de pollo por favor)
14. I love breakfast at any time of the day
15. If it weren't for Facebook, I wouldn't be able to remember anyone's birthday
16. My first words ever broadcast on the radio were in Korean
17. I'm one of those visual people that physically "look around" for an answer while appearing like I'm looking away
18. While doing one thing, if I don't have another job working in the background (laundry, downloads, cooking rice, dish washer), I feel like I'm wasting my time
19. Ask my wife, I have a lousy memory (and hearing) - huh?
20. I owe my gift of gab to my mother
21. I always thought "real life" would be something else coming up just waiting to make a big entrance, but as the years passed, I finally realized that real life had already snuck up on me - kinda anti-climactic
22. Home improvement does not scare me one bit--except for the part that has me climbing on the roof
23. These days, I prefer photos over video
24. My life gets so serious, I wish I smiled more
25. Since so often, I haven't the faintest idea what's going on, I'm honestly glad God does

Brought to Tears

2009-01-18T14:14:00.016-06:00

This is my son, Micah.

He's 16 months old and loves to read. Sometimes, he'll just grab a book and sit on the floor to read--even in a restaurant.

Sometimes he tries to do what we do... like cooking and sitting on the couch.

He knows his Lolo and Lola. He gives hugs to his cousins and is learning to share.

This is my boy, who is beginning to explore his world. Now, I have still have to watch him because he may trip on something while crawling through that maze at McDonald's, but eventually, he'll do it all on his own if he gets the chance.

I pray he'll get the chance. There's one 16 month old, that won't.

I want to preface my rant/metacognition/self-therapy session by saying that I don't often get emotionally moved by the news. Do things like Blago, Bush, Stroger, Public Education, Illegal Immigration, and general public idiocy bother me? Absolutely. However, I'm not emotionally moved to tears because in the news (all over the news, that is) Barack Obama's going to be in the White House. I'm just not. So for me to be brought to tears from a news story is as striking to me as it is to finally face the reality and depth of my love for my son. Because this story in the news... well, let me explain.

If you haven't been reading the news, this is what happened in Lincolnshire.
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chi-day_care_death_jan18,0,4483168.story

The skinny on what happened was that this day care worker basically got frustrated from all the noise this one child was making, that she threw the kid down to the ground. Of course, she originally said the child fell, then it was that she dropped the child. But, this isn't a story about lying. This is also not a story about day care workers or hired baby sitters or nannies. I want to be clear that when I first hear this story, it was obvious to me that none of that mattered.

When I heard the story, two things stuck out. First of all, this was a 16 month child. Normally, I don't have context to grasp this detail, but I need only consider that Micah is 16 months old...

This could be Micah. And, yes, Micah's been loud. These days his molars are coming in so lately, he's writhing in pain, screaming at night. Even last night, he was practically inconsolable at the 4a hour just flailing trying escape his own mouth pain. Of course, we only assume that since this week we ruled out ear infection, RSV, strep throat, and mono. Nonetheless, he can be loud--and that can be frustrating. But there was one other similarity.

See, the child in this story, sadly did not die immediately after the fall.

The chair Benjamin crawled to after his skull was broken "was his comfort zone, his little bouncy chair," Hyde said.

As the reporting goes, this child, after falling, crawled to his favorite chair--his bouncy chair, and then died. Micah has a bouncy chair that he loves. He's used one for a long time.

It was at this point, that I lost it. Hurt, injured, disoriented... in his final moments, he went to his comfort zone--his chair.

Last night, I worked on a ton of stuff for work and planned to sleep for a couple hours before heading to church early for technical setup. However, because Micah got a teething attack, I instead took an early shower and ran to Walgreens to get some Orajel. I barely could stay awake on this little errand, so I napped for 30 minutes before heading to Chicago. Coffee, OJ, a couple donuts, and a sausage biscuit for the road and for fuel--I drove off. However, all I needed to keep me awake was to hear the news report about this child a couple times during my drive. They always noted that "he did not die immediately..." and that "he went to his favorite chair..." before passing... About the third round of hearing it, I had to change the channel--at 630a on a Sunday, there aren't too many radio options, but I was about to cry.

All through church I was truly haunted by this picture of this 16 month old child--not unlike Micah, except probably larger--thrown down in frustration. It would have been the force of falling out of a one or two story window according to the report. Then, the child--again, not unlike Micah--crawling to his bouncy chair, trying to find some comfort in his pain...

Again, I reiterate that this is not about lying or caregivers or even murder. This is about how protective I have immediately become over Micah, my son.

Ever since he came home from the hospital, I have feared that my actions would harm him in some way. I could trip on a toy. I could spill hot water on him. I could be playing with him and crush him. I could dislocate his arm while tugging at him. While the specifics are not appropriate for this kind of forum, I did have a dream once of a freak accident with him under my care. I woke up so worried. I'm a klutz. I accept that. So my over-the-top precautions in the house and out-and-about stem from my fear of a breakdown in my responsibility of caring for my son. It's just that today, while sitting at church, it was kinda hard to focus because I just wanted to give my son, alive and well (minus a fever he's getting over, teething, allergies, eczema, etc.), a hug. So I text messaged Cristine before church started to check on them--no response. And then Pastor Lutzer took the microphone.

When I came home, I did give Micah a big hug.

In the end, I recognize that our lives are truly in God's able hands. I have certainly prayed for Micah's well-being and protection even while in my own and my wife's imperfect care. And truly, God has shown his favor thus far. Even through the accidents and illnesses and trying growing pains, God has seen Micah through. I feel so bad for the loss of this boy. But there's nothing to do. Cristine and I both cannot even come close to comprehending his parents' emotions--and it is only God who has spared us from this. Yet through it, God has shown me a number of things.

God has shown me how precious and fragile life is. God has shown me, a relatively more distant man than I used to be, how truly tied I am to this little life. God has shown me a desire and passion to see this child safely through these difficult and vulnerable childhood years to be a man who could then take on the same responsibility for others. God has shown me truly how much I could love this boy.

And to that end, God has shown me that I need to rely on Him to fulfill my renewed desire to take care of my son, Micah, who is 16 months old and loves his chair.

It's Over Already?

2009-01-06T23:40:00.002-06:00

Literally, that was the way it felt like, but I don't mean to get ahead of myself.

Thank you to all who prayed, even a short prayer for Micah, my son. He did far better than his Mama and Papa. He was still asleep when we woke up at 430a. He stayed asleep while getting into the car. He was awake, but not fussy, nor asking for something to drink (forbidden before surgery) while in the waiting room. And he didn't fight us much in the surgery prep room. He cried just a bit while taking some medicine and while being whisked away to surgery. And, as warned, we barely settled down in our chairs of the prep room when the nurse came back and said that he was done and still sleeping in recovery. I barely got into my coffee. We got him back by 745a or so and gave him some food. They turned us over relatively quickly and we were on the road back home by 815a or so. After getting a little breakfast on the way home, we were back in the house by late morning.

Routine? I suppose so. His demeanor was a little fussy, but nothing more than he usually is. We could see his happy side for good portions of the day with times of fits. I guess a day or so after the fact, I can compare that with an extremely good report from today (Tuesday) from our nanny and my wife. We were warned that he could still be groggy from the anesthesia for 24 hours, but today, he showed no signs at all of having had the hospital trip at all. Tonight, my parents and sister with her family came to visit and play with Micah and he played as hard as a 15 month old could play. I think he’s doing well.

So, really, that’s it. Now, I say that only because there’s not much more to say in terms of physically how he’s doing. However, I would not be able to say enough about how appreciative we (Cristine and me) are for all the well wishes, prayers, and support we’ve received in the last couple days. Sure, they call it “routine”, but really, God has been clearly taking care of us in more ways than medically because, let’s face it, if you saw us in person, you’d know that our house is stretched to the limit and anything beyond “routine” would be devastating to us. That’s a whole other topic, but I’m sure I’ll blog about that soon enough. Again, all that said, we really are blessed to have good friends and family.

(Now, I would be posting this right now—around 1245a, Wednesday—but a problem with our Comcast service (they’re “working on it”) is forcing me to set this aside while I do other work tonight).

Routine?

2009-01-04T20:48:00.002-06:00

At about 5a on Monday morning, we will be packing up the car (Micah, Mama, and myself) and heading to Central DuPage Hospital for what we hope will be a new beginning for Micah. He will go through a procedure called a myringotomy or insertion of ear tubes. If you were not aware, Micah has been battling ear infections since his first birthday and has had very little respite from its pain. Being a generally happy kid, it's been hard to see him like this as well difficult to pinpoint the source of the pain. However, after trying 4 different antibiotics and ear drops, as well as testing that shows some minor hearing loss, we decided that it was time to allow him to have the surgery.

If you are unfamiliar with this, you may want to see this video that Central DuPage Hospital had us watch:

https://www.my-emmi.com/startemmi?access_code=10489413251

Access code = 10489413251

Birthdate = August 22, 2007

It's a great explanation of the procedure and a nice resource from CDH.

By the time you may read this on Monday, we will have already gone through the procedure, but if you read this Sunday night, please say a short prayer for the little guy before heading off to bed. As the video points out, while it's routine, this isn't any child--it's mine.

Again, we hope this is the beginning of the end of the ear infection cycle and that he'll be on his way back to getting his full hearing back.

Costco vs. Sam's Club: The Choice

2008-12-27T03:26:00.003-06:00

Up front, my apologies for not posting this at the time of writing. It was delayed pending notification of next of kin. However, if I don't write this, other events that are now currently going on will completely stifle my will to write about this, so here goes...

First of all, I really do appreciate everyone's comments. I don't think I've ever posted something that has generated so many comments (and I've posted quite a few things). I hope that everyone who has posted (and may well post after this writing) understands that I am reading and considering their thoughts. Not that anyone really cares where I shop nor cares where I get the stuff that goes in my house nor cares what food shows up (or doesn't) for the dinner table nor how it gets there, but I wanted to respond to people's concerns in a format that gave me a little more elbow room than the wall of my Facebook.

Note that I write this at the risk of sounding defensive and possibly can be read offensively. It's not my intent at all. I just want you (whoever actually will read this) to know where I'm coming from. In the end, I'll let you know what I decided and how I got there.

I begin by explaining my status "Jeremy is considering moving from Costco to Sam's Club. Sigh." (12/26). Since then, I've received 6 comments and an personal email. And, as a number of people noted in their comments, Walmart/Sam's Club is quite a disdainful company. It is well noted that they are anti-union and treat their employees poorly (in this case, under pressure, they reversed their poor position). (Coach, I can't find any direct references to being anti-teacher except if you count the Walton Family Foundation's support of charter schools and school choice as anti-teacher; I think it can be more construed as anti-union). This is also not to mention the effect of driving out local small businesses, taking advantage of government subsidies, and sales of cheap-labor-made Chinese goods.

For me, this is distasteful enough and Cristine and I have done well to have committed to not shop at Walmart a couple years ago. With a couple exceptions where they were the only place that had what we were looking for, we've done pretty well. We also notably chose Costco over Sam's Club for bulk purchases. This happened partially because we started our membership while living in Chicago (which notably had no Walmarts or Sam's Clubs at the time), but also continued on after moving to the suburbs because of our disgust with Walmart, especially after hearing the story about the worker who was being forced to repay insurance benefits. Our disgust has not subsided. Hence the frustration built into my status. "Sigh".

However, situations change.

As with the rest of America, our family is struggling to make ends meet. With everything more expensive, we have to make every dollar work harder. If you aren't, you're not being wise at a massively critical time in America. We've looked into just about every aspect of our budget to squeeze out the excess and our bulk shopping was one. Do I know about the quality difference? You bet! However, what we do get, quality isn't as important: toilet paper, paper towels, tissues, soap, etc. We have stopped buying food from Costo because we have no where to keep the quantity of food they sell. So, we're not worried about that either. However, what really put me to the edge was two things: they had Pampers diapers and soy based baby formula AND click-and-pull online shopping. The products, I suppose we can find elsewhere, but the convenience of online shopping is striking. And I guess for people who have all the time in the world, this isn't a concern. However, as you can see, I'm up at 12 midnight writing this (and still have dishes to wash, laundry to put away, and some work-work still left to do after this blog--this is after an evening of errands and working on a project for work). Online shopping would reduce my stress tremendously. I'm even at the point of doing online groceries from Peapod or some other online grocer. The time (not so much the distance) is that big of a deal. Cheap, convenient. It's tempting.

So the choice then is to weigh the evil of Walmart/Sam's Club with the convenience and reduced stress of online shopping? To say it another way, the choice is between the higher quality of Costco with the impracticality (and impossibility at times) of shopping there (try going to Oak Brook's Costco on a weekend). I know that for some reading this, I'm being overly simplistic and missing the big picture. However, I think that in the grand scheme of it all, you really gotta do what you gotta do. Despite the ramifications, no one looks out for you best except for you.

All that said, and if I haven't lost you yet. I'll tell you what I decided. I decided to stick with Costco. The pull factor there is an optical department, decent services on the side, and good quality (and often name brand) products available. This overrides the ridiculous and impractical sizes of food and in more than a few cases, higher prices than "warehouse" prices should be. Push factors for Sam's Club were already noted above, but that doesn't entirely trump their low prices. What did was to determine with Cristine that we didn't actually need to buy soy based formula regularly--so I bought a canister at Jewel--problem solved. However, I have to admit, Sam's Club was coming in 10 cents cheaper per ounce of soy formula than its closest competitor... In the long term, that would be compelling.

As I said at the onset, I really do appreciate everyone's comments. I will take it on faith that ultimately, people really did care if I did what was best for me and my family and not just hoped I did what fit their ideas of "right" and "wrong" for their own satisfaction. If the latter actually was the case, I hope they know that I was actually already on that boat and appreciated the reminder. In the end, I still think I'm doing what's best for me and my family and I appreciate the support.

You've Got To Be Kidding

2008-12-10T23:28:00.005-06:00

By now, we've seen all the news about Blago, our fine governor here in Illinois, but did you notice this picture?

The City of Chicago did warn us. In fact, they put a sign up on electrical pole so we could all be warned. Here's a close up:

"If rats can't feed, rats can't breed." So apropos.

Taking a Walk, and a Talk

2008-10-25T21:16:00.004-05:00

I really felt kinda low today after waking up. My back ached, I was tired, and the house was kind of a mess. A small respite from my complaining was granted as we visited our friends John and Christy in Wheaton, but when I got back home, I was back to feeling crappy. I really needed to get out and do something. It didn't need to be a social thing, but just something. Maybe I felt lousy about the physical exam I had last night and how out of shape I feel and truly am. Maybe it's that my body was in need of some rejuvenation... Whatever it was, I needed to get out. So, at the suggestion of my wise wife, I took our dog Sofie out for a long walk. And you know what, it did the trick. But, oh, what 45 minutes alone to yourself can do for you.

Years ago when I lived with my parents, I often needed to get out and take a walk. I didn't do it often as much as I needed, but the times that I did, I can remember that it always led me to out-loud conversations with God. No, I wasn't a believer at the time, but certainly knew He was there. Well, let's just say that tonight was kinda like old times. Maybe this time the conversation wasn't as out-loud as when I was younger, but certainly, I could hear God calling me back to at least sit down with Him and chat. Today, it went sort of like this...

I came to realize during my walk that there is (for lack of a better term) a "balance" that I need to find between responsibility and faith. I don't know a better term for "balance", but it's not really the right word because it's not that faith and responsibility are on opposite ends of the same spectrum. That is, they are not at odds with each other. One ought to have both--faith and responsibility. However, over-reliance on one can certainly jeopardize relying on the other.

Today, I struck out for the nearby park at around 6p, but by the time I was coming back, it was dark. The road was lit well enough on the walk there, but pretty dark on the way back. Now, there are some neighborhoods (like our most recent neighborhood in Chicago) where darkness meant no walking, but even in Westmont, I still tried to keep a keen eye on my surroundings. I looked behind bushes, glanced around parked cars, and kept an eye on other folks on foot walking my direction. Sure, this is Westmont, but who doesn't keep one eye looking over their shoulder these days? But as I did this, God was chatting with me, asking why I don't feel free? And so I wondered... Why don't I enjoy the freedom that I actually have--not just the freedom I have in Christ, but in America, in Westmont...

There really are some things that I have to leave up to faith. I can't do anything about things that are out of my control. If someone wanted to drive past me and sideswipe me from behind, what can I do? I'm not trying to be morbid, but there does come a point where trying to be in control over every aspect and detail in life is, partly ridiculous and partly impossible and partly in vein. Again, it's not to say that people ought not be responsible--I need to protect my son from falling down the stairs, from us being swindled by a sales person, from me being mugged down the street. It's just that I can't rely on my own strength to take care of every situation. The world, fallen as it is, is too big for me to guard against every calamity. I will have to trust God. And that's what God was talking to me about today.

Why don't I feel the freedom any more? It's because I feel like the world is out of control. But who's going to be able to harness that control back? Not Barack Obama. Not John McCain. Not Warren Buffett. Not Bill Gates. Not Lou Dobbs. I can't trust any of them to relinquish control of the world from the crazies (from the bushes of my backyard to the mountains of Afghanistan) to any of these well meaning folks. The only one I can trust is the one who said He had control in the first place.

And, thus God said to me today, be responsible and have faith--it's all under My control.

Cristine said that it was good that I took a walk today. I think I need to take a walk more often. Sofie won't mind.

Can I Go Back?

2008-10-25T05:16:00.003-05:00

I know it's early, but I can't seem to get this issue out of my mind to get back to sleep... So, I'll just blog...

Have you ever had a friendship end, not necessarily on bad terms, but knew that you couldn't go back to it after all these years? For me, this happens sometimes and I wonder (fortunately, not a lot) what ever happened to So-And-So. Then, when I hear about them from someone else, it gets my curiosity up. Sigh.

This morning, I started thinking about they guy I worked with for many years at the school, Mark. He started working in the IT department as really, a solo gig. Back in 1996, he pretty much built up the network from scratch. It grew into overseeing desktop computers being placed in classrooms, servicing whole labs of student computers, and eventually into Internet and wireless capabilities. I came on board with him in 1999 when no teaching jobs were available to me after I got my masters degree. However, a lot of things changed between 1999 and today. The technology changed a lot. Once Novell, 3Com, Apple and McAfee were dominant in our enterprise. That changed to Microsoft, Cisco, and Sophos. The administration changed too. Well meaning administrators with little technology experience moved on to be replaced with more tech savvy leadership that wanted to see more out of our resources. I think I changed also with my goals and priorities in life. Yes, I have a B.A. in History and an M.A. in Teaching, but IT wasn't so bad... But one thing that problematically didn't change that much over that time was the influence that Mark had over the entire thing...

See, I say "problematically" because it's not that it was bad. I would consider him brilliant. He was far more knowledgeable than anyone in District during his years regarding the network and technology resources. He built the network--in many cases through long nights and with literally his own hands. I was there for some of it, and he was gracious enough to spare me from most of it. But exactly that was the problem. Mark could never be faulted for working hard--harder than a lot of people I know. But he always struggled with working within the realm of peers. While often head and shoulders in knowledge and vision above people who tried to be his peers--including myself, it would have been imperative for him to have done so to survive. Sadly, he did not.

Now, I understand that the above anecdote is a gross oversimplification of the situation, but I don't want to focus on my friend's demise at work as much as the fact that I personally have nothing against him despite his being let go by our administration. And that's where it gets sticky.

See, to then now survive in the post-Mark world, I had to be sure to not play to my past, but to play to my future. That is, while Mark was under scrutiny by our bosses, I too felt the heat of pressure from the ineffectiveness of the IT department's work. It's just that I wasn't in charge and could not do much about it. In fact, one of my friends on the teaching side often spoke up on my behalf to protect me from being linked to that past. So to survive, I don't know if I had a better choice than to truly separate myself from Mark and his work and to distinguish myself and my skills. I found myself in my supervisor's office once asking candidly if I was to be looking for a new job myself. It was at this point that I was assured that my efforts to be separated from the problems they saw were acknowledged. And while I left that meeting finally getting a sense of relief, I always have that nagging feeling... What happened to Mark?

Sometimes a teacher will run into him and give me the heads up. I'm always interested to know if things are well with him, but never ask for his current contact information. Is that odd? I just think it's better that way. I think it's not as big a deal now, 3 years after his release. And, I don't have that sense of "embarrassment" like some feel about going back to a friend after screwing up with them. No, it's really not like that at all. I'm somewhere between knowing that we'd been friends for a number of years and being interested in how he's doing and knowing that any relationship that I have with him would be problematic for me at work after so many years of forging my own way--along with the change of direction our department has taken at the same time.

Is it worth going back?

I suppose my epilogue is that since I don't have anything against Mark, if it works out to get together, I'm game for the meeting. But maybe still, I'll never ask any of our mutual friends for his number.

Full Circle

2008-06-14T22:34:00.002-05:00

I realize that I haven't written since February. If anyone has actually noticed, I'd honestly be shocked. However, I think I really have come full circle since my last writing. I think that at that time I had some trouble that I had to work out. Well, that trouble did eventually work out. However, now, a different type of trouble is cropping up. I may not write completely about that, but what I find most interesting is that I realized that probably the best thing for me to do at this point is to write/blog/journal. Ironically, to not write/blog/journal was part of my resolution in February. How interesting the full circle is when you finally get all the way around...

I'll leave it at that for now since other thoughts don't go under the same header...

Unimportant

2008-02-26T00:25:00.003-06:00

I'm unimportant when...

... I spoke up and no one took notice.
... I tried my hardest, and nothing changed.
... I took an educated guess, and was wrong.
... I realized that what I do is more style than substance.
... I finally accepted that what I know is more trivia than wisdom.
... I see people get along without me.
... I notice that no one tries hard to contact me.
... I did the best I could, but it still wasn't good enough.
... I can't just be myself.
... I feel like people only want something from me, not be with me.
... I think something is important, but to others, it's not.
... I work on something that no one can appreciate.
... I labor over details that are only interesting to me.
... I am interested in nerdy and heady topics.
... I have no one to mentor.
... I give suggestions that are not taken seriously.
... I am not speaking someone else's language.
... I feel like no one gets what I'm about.
... I am told that I'm a leader, but there's no one to follow me.
... I make a mistake, and no one notices.
... I want help, but don't know where to turn for it.
... I tried to cheer someone up and they're still depressed.
... I feel depressed, and consider everything above.

... at the end of the day, I'm still the same. Unimportant.

Priorities

2008-02-26T00:09:00.004-06:00

John and Kendra Smiley spoke at Moody Church on Sunday during our Sunday School hour. It was about their new book that had the title, to the effect of: Do your kids a favor and love your spouse. I thought that was long, but interesting. We stayed and listened.

One of the things that I came home with from Sunday was an illustration Kendra used to explain getting the priorities in life straight. She said that she had these few things listed on a piece of paper on an easel:

God
Spouse
Children (Family)
Work
OGT (Other good things)

She said that while it seemed obvious, it was easy to mix these things up. That is, it's easy to put the kids above your spouse. It's easy to put work above God. It's easy to be distracted by OGT when there's so much else above it... But that's not where it ended. She then started to contemplate writing this list in watercolor. Now, apparently an artist (I'm not an artist) would balk at this because you're not supposed to use an easel when painting in watercolor. However, Kendra insisted on this. Why? Because as you paint the words...

God
Spouse
Children (Family)
Work
OGT (Other good things)

in watercolor, the paint drips down. God colors Spouse; Spouse colors Children; God colors Children... That is to say that my relationship with God effects my relationship with my spouse. And, my relationship with my spouse, in turn effects my relationship with my children... and so on. God effects everything else--He is on top. Then, if things don't work well for my spouse, ought that be a higher priority than making this work out at work? So how things go with me and my wife will color and effect everything below it, notably my child, but everything else.

I have to really begin to get these priorities in order. There are a lot of good and great things that I have been given opportunities to participate and share in. But have I done things in order of priority? That's the question I really need to probe myself about and get straightened out before committing and possibly regretting.

Fantasy Baseball 2008

2008-02-22T09:50:00.003-06:00

Of course, not that anyone cares, but I'm kinda excited for my Fantasy Baseball teams for this year. Yes, I got two this year because last year, since I used autopick, I got stuck with dogs that I couldn't drop--like Jermaine Dye. This year, this is what I got:

Here are the draft results from your team The Big Mixers in league MLB-14720.

Round: Player
1 Prince Fielder (1B, MIL)
2 Adam Dunn (OF, CIN)
3 Magglio Ordonez (OF, DET)
4 Troy Tulowitzki (SS, COL)
5 Dan Uggla (2B, FLA)
6 Joe Mauer (C, MIN)
7 Garrett Atkins (1B, 3B, COL)
8 Jeff Francoeur (OF, ATL)
9 New York Yankees (P, NYY)
10 Julio Lugo (SS, BOS)
11 Edwin Encarnacion (3B, CIN)
12 Adam LaRoche (1B, PIT)
13 Aaron Rowand (OF, SF)
14 Ryan Church (OF, NYM)
15 Alexi Casilla (2B, MIN)

Here are the draft results from your team The Little Rookies in league MLB-14703.

Round: Player
1 Jimmy Rollins (SS, PHI)
2 Lance Berkman (1B, OF, HOU)
3 Justin Morneau (1B, MIN)
4 Robinson Cano (2B, NYY)
5 Chris Young (OF, ARI)
6 Geovany Soto (C, CHC)
7 Jermaine Dye (OF, CWS)
8 Toronto Blue Jays (P, TOR)
9 Mike Lowell (3B, BOS)
10 Minnesota Twins (P, MIN)
11 Josh Willingham (OF, FLA)
12 Kosuke Fukudome (OF, CHC)
13 Rick Ankiel (OF, STL)
14 Kazuo Matsui (2B, HOU)
15 Evan Longoria (3B, TB)

Fukudome! Soto! Dye? Oh well...

Culture Training

2008-02-18T22:08:00.006-06:00

This weekend, Cristine and I started talking about how we'd want Micah to learn about his heritage. Cristine's sister sends their kids to Korean classes at a church on Sundays to learn how to read and write Korean. I'm totally for that and will certainly support Micah to do the same. However, equally important for me is that he learns his Filipino culture like I did. Unfortunately, there are no such cultural classes (as far as I know) that help kids learn Tagalog and cultural heritage (like dances and history). Despite that, I'm satisfied with Micah learning this through exposure to my family and Filipino organizations like my Mom's hometown association. In a lot of ways, I just want Micah to be able to recognize Filipino and Filipino American culture and connect with that. I was making this case on Sunday to Cristine... and then I saw these two things:

Judge: Man Guilty Of Roasting Too Many Pigs
Filipino American Claims Preparing Food In Public Part Of Cultural Tradition

http://www.nbc5.com/news/15309608/detail.html

and

American Idol: We're Brothers Forever

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhiPE0tiZkE

What can I say? Do you want to be exposed Filipino culture? There it is! I'm connecting. And, I'm diggin' every moment of it. How can I deny my son this joy? You just can't learn this stuff in class.

The Loss

2008-02-10T22:19:00.000-06:00

If you didn't already hear about the tragic death of a bride during her reception--during the couple's "first dance", you could easily cry after reading about it [ Miami Herald ]. Since Cristine and I both made it through the ceremony, dance, and 3 years since, we both look back at that moment of our first dance, and can really picture what's really going on there at that moment... and then she died.

I don't know what I'd do. Once, when Cristine and I were dating, I took Cristine out for a walk around the block by her apartment in Chicago and she collapsed on the street corner. She leaned against me... I thought from fatigue... and then her body slumped... and the best I could do, being caught off guard, was to make keep her from falling... then I screamed out for help... at 11p... on a residential city block in Lakeview... while holding Cristine's limp frame. I thought I was holding the dead body of the woman I loved.

She came to after the longest 5 seconds of my life (possibly the shortest of hers).

What is the loss for this poor groom? In my world, it's everything. See, the way I see it, you marry for life. When you're in that sacred embrace of marriage, there's no letting go. We don't say the "D" word in our house. We don't contemplate double-guessing why we got married. We keep going knowing that we're in it together, until death do us part. When you're in that "first dance" and everything that goes on that day, this is the person who you should be expecting to be by your side from that night until... death... which, Lord willing, is a long time away from now. I mean, that's the amazing thing. It's the rest of your life with this person, and it's sealed on that day with only the future to look forward to with joy, dancing, family, and maybe some good champagne.

To lose your wife on the first day leaves the rest of your life with a void that is incomprehensible. That is, unless you think of marriage as anything less than permanent.

You Don't Own My Vote!

2008-02-10T21:47:00.000-06:00

If you read my most recent blog/note regarding my political dilemma and struggle, it should be noted that I'm still wrestling with the whole thing. That is I get one vote, yet it represents my values, my trust in a candidate, my despise for another, my hope in yet another, my frustration with they system, my anger at the incumbents, my fear of the potential, my half empty/full wallet, my sinking property value, my questions about my job, my comfort with not really knowing... If anyone thinks they really know for 100% sure, I believe they're drinking kool-aid. Whose kool-aid? I don't know. But it's someone's kool-aid. I'm more for water at this stage. However, all that said, there is one thing since I wrote that blog that has truly come to the forefront of this struggle.

No one owns my vote except me.

Admittedly, I listen to a lot of conservative talk radio. I'll listen to Rush, Ingram, Hannity, Medved, and the like. Normally, I'm okay with what they say. At the time of my last blog, they, and other conservatives pundits were all about Mitt Romney and against John McCain. Since then, Romney dropped out. That threw me for a loop. When I turned on the radio that day, and since, it's now all about being against McCain and... other stuff... like fill-in stuff. In fact, when the name Mike Huckabee came up, it was kinda ugly, I think. Huckabee is considered irrelevant and wasting his time. Other reasons for not liking Huckabee are given, which are fair, but frankly, isn't he still in the race... He just won a handful of states since Super Tuesday. Now, is he going to actually get all the delegates he needs? Maybe not, but maybe. I mean, it's not over yet. And this is the context in which I've made my stand.

While I like, respect, and look for the wisdom that comes from conservative pundits, ultimately, they don't have, nor should have the final say in my vote. I may be confused, but I'm not going to have someone else interpret how I'm supposed to vote. No one can tell me what priorities I'm supposed to have in selecting a candidate. No one "commands" any block of votes that I'm going to be a part of. I'm an independent thinker, and plan to vote without needing to check in with anyone else except my own conscience.

I don't regret my vote for Romney on Super Tuesday. He was still in the race and IMHO, the most qualified and best person to run our country out of the choices I had for Republicans and Democrats. However, the main reason (not the only reason) I didn't vote for Huckabee was because I didn't think he'd really make it past Super Tuesday anyway. And so, in some ways, while I don't regret my actual vote, I do regret not voting my conscience. I really want to vote for Huckabee, but found reasons not to. Now that he's still in it, I think I see the error I made. I let someone else steer my vote.

In the general election, I plan to do a better job in selecting. Hope versus Experience versus Experience versus Hope. Maybe I need to read up on my county forest preserve candidates a little while I'm at it.

Worship Concert

2008-02-09T20:34:00.001-06:00

This evening, Cristine went off to Old Navy while I stayed home with Micah. While always tempted to put Micah down in his excer-saucer or jump-a-roo while I work or do laundry or something else, I went downstairs to play with him on his developmental gym. He was so good! He flipped over twice today--the first time, just as I turned away. Ah, but he did flip again. We were there for a long while until he got bored. So, I moved him over to his little Bebe Pod where he sat while I grabbed my guitar and began to play songs for him.

Now, if you know me well enough, you'll probably know that I was one of those guys who didn't really play guitar until becoming a Christian. After that, I had to get a guitar and had to know every worship song ever written. I've got two huge binders of song sheets with chords that at one point represented my entire repertoire of worship music. Also, if you know me well enough, you'll also know that I wasn't the best guitarist--only really good enough to lead a small group in worship, but oh how I loved that. Today, and really these days, my audience has been reduced to two. God and Micah.

I've come to appreciate that Micah loves live music. He doesn't really have a strong reaction to recorded music that we'll play. We play classical music constantly--in his room, in our bedroom, in the car. However, he really doesn't react. However, yesterday, while at Lola and Lolo's house for day care, my sister Jessica was playing the piano and Micah just stared at her. When my dad described it, I told him that this was typical of him when I play guitar for him at home. That is, when I hold my worship concert for him.

He loves looking, really staring, at my strumming hand as I go through songs. He'll bop his head along with the beat (well, as best he can). Sometimes, when I'm doing a song where I'm moving quickly up and down the neck of the guitar, he watches that action also. But, as I play and sing, he's completely engaged. I try not to play too loud, so I play without a pick, but it starts to hurt after a while. He loves it either way. And through that, I see an opportunity. Music was the way Jesus, shall we say, broke the ice with me. On the Sunday before I was saved, it wasn't the testimonies or the sermon or even the pleading of my friends that broke down the walls of doubt I had about Jesus. It was the music and how true the lyrics were. God was greater that everything around me and had truly come to rescue me from my failure life. The melody was the key that opened my heart; the words were the truth that I needed and longed to hear. I was home. That was Easter Sunday, April 12, 1998. On April 13, I committed my life to Jesus.

In 2005, Cristine and I got married and moved to Chicago. We decided to get a fresh start and join a city church. We began to attend Moody Church on the near north side. Well, if you know Moody Church at all and compared it with our former church Faith Alliance Bible Church, you'd immediately recognize one significant difference--it's size. At Moody Church, well, basically, you don't really need a 3rd string guitarist like me. In fact, frankly, I'd be more than intimidated to play anything instrument there considering that the talent pool there far exceeds my capabilities. It's not the church's fault at all, but without serving the way I used to at FABC, I basically stopped playing guitar. Said another way, I lost my callouses.

However, now there's this amazing opportunity to introduce Micah to the gospel through the same medium God used for me--music. So, like I normally do these days, tonight I pulled down my binders off the shelf, put Micah in his Bebe Pod, tuned my guitar, and began the worship concert.

It's at this point where I feel a little sad because at one point, I knew all these songs. In fact, when I first was asked to lead worship for small group, I actually sat down with the CFC (Covenant Fellowship Church) song book and played through every song I knew--I knew a bunch. Then, I went through the church repertoire of music and tried to sing every song once through the year without repeating any songs until I got through the entire bank of songs. It was, well, an interesting year (I was told by my co-leader to "talk less and practice more"--ouch!). But, in the end, tons of songs flowed through my head. Not so today. I'll flip to a song that I know I really enjoyed, really got blessed by in the past, sang it a million times before... and I just can't figure out the melody. It's terrible. Song after song, just lost. Over the last few times I've held my concert for Micah, I've remembered more and more, but incrementally (sadly).

There is definitely a hole, a void, in my spiritual life that I hope will get filled as we go along. And maybe, as it does, it fills one in Micah's life also. I guess, as long as he puts up with the worship concerts.

Two Swings, Two Misses

2008-02-09T20:11:00.000-06:00

Today I received a couple phone calls that, in some ways I'm fortunate to not receive as often as I used to. That is, two people called me for technical computer help. I'd call it support, but that'd imply that I was doing this for money, not because I actually like these people. But, respond, I did.

The first phone call came from my friend Leann from work. She was at the Operation Snowflake retreat with Westmont Jr High School and could not get her computer connected to the projector they had brought. While not playing a role in Snowflake for the last two years, they know that I believe in their program and would be available for a call, well, like this one this morning. As we worked through what they had (and didn't have), I finally concluded that she came to the camp without the proper cables. That is, they were screwed... at least in showing this slideshow that they had prepared for the kids that morning. I tried to get them to use the camp's equipment, but unfortunately, they had little to no help from the staff at the camp. It was the weekend and basically had a kid covering media devices today. Sadly, we had run out of options. Meanwhile, the kids had all gathered in the chapel (the room at the camp where they had their big meetings) anticipating this slideshow to be presented... I know how it is for this to happen. All of it went down the drain because of a stupid, incorrect cable. And then on top of it, the camp couldn't provide an alternative. I felt so bad.

Then, a little earlier tonight, I received another phone call from my friend Tricia who was with Jannie (on her last night in Chicago). Ironically (or is it coincidentally), she asked for some help also. In her case, she wanted to show something off a laptop onto a TV. In this case, they had the proper cabling, but also had Windows Vista. At that point, I'm at a loss. I read to them the instructions for toggling over to TV projection for their computer, but to no avail. We tried a few other things, but this was just not working the was it was supposed to in the instructions. It wasn't as big a deal (not nearly as many people involved), but still, another failed call for me.

Now, I know that people are not calling me in the thought that I'm some miracle maker and everything will work by the time I get off the phone with them. However, it's as much a thrill for me to score a win as it is for them to get what they need working properly. Sadly, this was not one of those days.

I love helping people out and didn't use to care if I had to sacrifice a lot to do so. These days, with so many other things being prioritized in my life, it's been a while since I've been put in this kind of situation. I really kind of liked it... well, until I hung up and knew I didn't help for nothing (in the practical sense). But, maybe there's a lesson in all this. That is, maybe I need to remember that there is a part of me that still loves to help out and that I need to let it fly every once in a while. And maybe, just maybe, someone will benefit from it.

I usually go around questioning the value of what I know. That is, how truly valuable is it in this world for me to know how to navigate PHP or Linux. How valuable is it for me to understand how wireless networks are configured? How valuable is it for me to know how to set up VLANs and firewall rules and NATs and DNS and such. Does it really make the world better? Well, maybe. Well, I hope.

---
Epilogue (2008-02-11): I talked to Leanne Monday afternoon, and in fact, they were able to figure out an S-Video connection from the laptop after we hung up the phone. She meant to call, but wasn't able to let me know at that moment. I was just glad it all worked out in the end...

Reading and a Political Dilemma

2008-02-03T09:27:00.000-06:00

For some reason, I've been getting more into reading. I've actually finished a couple books in the last few months (What's So Great About Christianity? and Who Made God?). Of course, I wish I was reading my bible more. Recently, I got the Archaeological Study Bible from Zondervan which I'm enjoying. But, I can't seem to get myself to finish Come Up To This Mountain, despite Cristine finishing the book on the flight home from Ecuador in 2006, and my having it in my possession for that long. Sigh. So when I say that "for some reason" I'm reading, if nothing else, it's an amazing reason.

So, with that context, around the MLK holiday, I decided to come back to a book I have always wanted to read, but simply never found the time to do so. The book is called I May Not Get There With You - The True Martin Luther King, Jr.. Interestingly enough, I bought this book a while ago, probably when it first came out in 1999 or 2000, and could not get into the book at that time--probably too busy. But since then, a lot has happened. First and foremost, I became a stronger Christian, which alone changed my entire perspective on life. But, not irrelevant at all, is that since I purchased the book, the United State was attacked on September 11, 2001. That changed the entire perspective of the country. Yet, despite these changes, I still carry in me a hunger for history and a hunger to understand our society (racial, economic, cultural, political, etc.). So, trying to ride the wave of my renewed interest in reading, I picked up this book again.

Before going on, I will have to note a minor political perspective change over time in me which will serve as context for later. In my college days, people would probably have noted my passion for learning about and exposing racial inequalities on campus and elsewhere. Typically, these sorts of arguments fall into the "liberal" or "American left" side of the political spectrum. In fact, in 1996, after graduation, I actually volunteered at a phone bank and at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. It was a great experience. Technically, I helped Bill Clinton get re-elected. Since then, I became a Christian (politicos might call me an "evangelical") and became very aware of social issues that swung me to the "conservative" or "American right". So, in 2000 and 2004, I voted for George Bush. In the words of Marc Smith from Green Mill Poetry Slam fame said (been a while, so paraphrased), "Who in here voted for Bush? (no one raises their hand) Liars! At least half of you did!" I admit it, I should have raised my hand. In the last few years, I've progressively been frustrated and irritated by what's been going on in Washington (and Springfield, IL). I've taken to heart a call to dropping any (whatever's left) of party affiliation, and get to the real internal debate as to what's important to and for me and the world around me. If I can find a way, I'd like to register officially as a political independent. All that said...

So I'm reading this book on MLK and it occurs to me that Michael Eric Dyson, the author is a strong liberal, at least as pitted against Amy Holmes, a speech writer for Bill Frist on CNN one day. However, that doesn't turn me off nearly as much as Ann Coulter does, so I kept reading. While not too far into the reading, Dyson points out something that finally sends me into that long-hidden place where I finally can put my finger on what my personal political dilemma is. Dyson's contention is that Right-Wingers have completely taken MLK's words and used it against MLK's original intent, even today. When MLK said:

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

Dyson argues that some have taken that to mean that MLK wanted people to be color-blind and ignore the color. So, today, you'll have opposition to Affirmative Action saying that Blacks should "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" like every other American. A (not-even-much-more) thorough study of MLK's other writings, especially up through his murder, showed rather clearly that while he had this dream, he knew that the dream had not been achieved by the simple pronouncement of it. That is, Black people were not actually (for all intents and purposes in America) equal because he (and the Declaration of Independence and the Bible) said so. There's a process that needs to be worked through that has to level that playing field before people really could be "equal". In some ways, I feel like Dyson interprets MLK's words as saying that it's actually all about color--that is, on the road to equality of opportunity and the "cashing in on the check of America" as it were. Interesting...

So here's my political dilemma. As I prepare to vote on Super Tuesday, I'm dwelling, not so much on who to vote for, but what kind of America I want to endorse. That is, now that I'm not a knee-jerk Democrat nor knee-jerk Republican, I'm actually going to try to figure this out for myself as an Independent.

What is America here for? It's true that government is here to protect its citizens (i.e. military, immigration), distribute resources for shared needs (roads, trade policy), and to otherwise allow people to live as freely as possible. That's all stuff that you could call "constitutional". However, that doesn't mean government, as the leading entity for the citizens (and the rest of the world, for that matter), could not be benevolent. That is, is it proper for the government to lift up the poor and hopeless of our citizens? Is it proper for the government to provide a means by which people can stay healthy and productive in our American society? Basically, is it proper for government to be a caring government even if the Constitution doesn't call it to be.

Honestly, I'm just not sure how to resolve. This year, because there is no Presidential candidate that I am all fully impressed with, I think I have to begin looking at my choice to vote in a different manner. McCain has the Keating 5 and while calls himself a foot soldier for Reagan, acts otherwise. Romney seems to be a great manager, but is not someone who captures attention and leader. Huckabee is strong on life issues, but is poorly advised and makes a number of faux pas statements regularly (that is, when he was being more regularly covered on the news). Clinton will say anything for the 51% and while potentially being a strong leader, she can't sweet talk us all into believing that she's anything more respectable than a politician. Obama inspires a lot of us and could be a great leader also, but I still think lacks experience. He has some great ideas (and some questionable ones, like the rest of the candidates), but will he really get past the old ideas without the experience and tenure he lacks. So without a front runner for me, I feel like it's not going to be the person as much as the kind of America we should be because there really is room for a change here. Shoot, what kind of America do I want America to be?

If you've bothered to read this far, I hate to say that the above is completely a rhetorical question. I haven't the faintest idea and I'm less inclined to believe that between the two, it really matters all that much. Liberal, Conservative, Left, or Right. There's two legitimate patriotic and American ways to view this, just like saying that we should treat everyone equal versus trying to level the playing field. Both are trying to make America better, but both are at such odds.

At this point, I have to take my comfort in that after this, there is my hope in Heaven and that at the end, real justice will be handed down to those deserving. I will not save the world, but only can redeem for good what's around me. And, so I'll learn about these candidate and choose wisely and appreciate that in some countries, people can't even image the freedoms we take for granted daily.

(No) Groundhogs Day

2008-02-02T23:25:00.000-06:00

Sadly, this is the first Groundhogs Day in a while that I didn't ceremoniously watch the movie Groundhogs Day.

Sicko

2008-01-23T12:39:00.000-06:00

One of my current addictions is Flickr. And, who can argue? I think it's brilliant and hope it sticks around for a long while. So of course, I love sharing photos from it on my Facebook or other friends. There, I show off my family, my friends, my travels, and my life. And consequently, I love getting feedback on it... like FlickrMail.

I don't get email through Flickr often; usually it's just an announcement that someone considered me a "contact". That is, someone wants quick access to my pictures. That's cool that someone cares enough to look at my pictures often.

And then there was yesterday. ChicagoKevin2004 and AdmireAsians decided to comment on a picture and make me a contact respectively. The first was interesting because they looked a specific picture 15 times, and then commented in a way that was clearly confusing and not within context. I looked at this guy's profile and all his contacts were... well, basically pornography accounts. Sicko. Then, I get a message later saying that AdmireAsians (take a guess here...) wanted to make me a contact. Same thing, but worse, I wanted to look at his contacts and even to look at that page "falls outside your SafeFilter settings". By the way, I thank God for that SafeFilter setting because I really don't want to see the pictures. I just want to confirm if these are sickos or not. They are.

So, home now for lunch, I debated as to how I was going to email Yahoo/Flickr and ask how to block these people. I don't want to be even remotely associated with them, even if I have nothing to do with it. But, I didn't have to search long before finding a link that said, "Block User". A quick click reads me this explaination:

When you choose to block someone, it means they:

* Can't comment on your photos
(All comments on your photos made by them are deleted)
* Can't comment on your sets
(All comments on your sets made by them are deleted)
* Are removed as your contact, and you are removed as theirs
(They can't add you as a contact again)
* Can't add your photos as favorites anymore
(Any of your photos marked as their favorites are removed)
* Can't blog your photos
* Can't add notes or tags
* Can't send you FlickrMail

Note: While the block itself will occur immediately, removal of comments and favorites can take up to several hours (though hopefully not that long!).

Please confirm that you're sure you want to block...

How much more did I need?

Consider yourself blocked sicko! Find some other account to _______ over!

Protect This House

2007-12-22T23:50:00.002-06:00

So recently in Chicago, Tom Waddle moved from being part of WGN radio (720 AM) (Sports Central, etc.) to WMVP, ESPN radio (1000 AM) hosting his own show among other things. Kind of sad since I liked his work on WGN, but so it goes. Since I'm more of a Score guy (WSCR, 670 AM), I don't often listen to ESPN, but I did the other day. Tom Waddle happened to be in studio, not during his time slot, but was visiting. He recounted the story he told that morning during his own show, and it went something like this:

He heard the house alarm go off the night before. He asked his wife what the control pad said: basement window. Clearly, this was bad. He told his wife to take all the kids, lock themselves in the bedroom, and shove the dresser in front of the door. He fully expected to not return alive (taking a "dirt nap") considering that the only weapon he could scrounge up was a tee-ball bat. He went downstairs to find... the wind had jarred the older window in the basement setting off the alarm.

Now, some of these details may be off, but the mood was sufficiently struck for me. With all the news of professional athletes getting mugged or killed, who's to say that a talk radio host, a former Bear no less, would be a fair target for another wacko. At that point, I thought to myself about what I had at my disposal... just in case. Man, I don't even have a tee-ball bat nearby. Now, my buddy in college used to live with a machete between his mattresses. He showed me once when I woke him up unexpectedly. Oops.

Now, I shouldn't live in fear, but like every neighborhood I've lived in, we don't exactly have all the best of the best living around us. In this case, we live on the edge of the subdivision which then borders a string of apartment buildings. It's just a lot of people with not a lot of space. But, of course, there's more to it than that. We're the corner house. We get the most traffic go past us on a daily basis. It's not exactly peaceful. And who knows who's got it out of us for whatever reason. Anyway... all this finally led me to go down into the garage and pull out a couple bats. One is my softball bat; the other bat was used when I was in Little League. I now have one in my bedroom and in the nursery.

I write this because I'm sad at all this. I guess I'm an adult and have to honestly consider how I will protect my family and/or property. I guess I'm also frustrated because I'm not into conflict, but I'm preparing myself to get into one. And lastly, if it was me instead of Tom Waddle having to have to go downstairs to check the window, I think I'd be thinking the same thing: dirt nap. But I also think it boils down to this. I will stop at nothing to protect my wife and my son. Am I up to the task? Maybe not in theory. But will I have a choice at that moment of truth? I don't think so. I will probably go down in reality protecting them with my softball bat.

I hope the dogs will be on my side.

Living With Jake

2007-12-22T23:06:00.000-06:00

Today, while walking the dogs, I had some thoughts run past me.

First, here's the background. If you don't already know, we have 3 dogs. We adopted Sofie and Victor in 2005 and inherited Jake in 2006. Now, I guess I should really say, we rescued Jake in 2006, but that WAS 2006. See, things have changed a lot since then.

Sofie came to us as a gentle, fun loving 35 pound border collie. We then adopted Victor, a 12 pound toy poodle as Sofie's buddy. Things didn't turn out exactly like that, but they got along well enough in our Chicago condo. Then, Cristine's parents began a very necessary process of putting their house on the market. Part of this was the massive clean up, which meant that they had to get rid of the source of the mess--Jake, a 7 year old, 75 pound German shepherd. None of Cristine's sisters wanted or could even take Jake. Her parents were satisfied to send Jake to the shelter where he'd more than likely be euthanized because he's far too old to be adopted. Sadly, Jake is a good dog, obedient and loyal, but sorely unwanted. Cristine convinced me to take Jake into our already crowded condo, and thus, we had three dogs.

In 2006, we moved back to Westmont into a house with a yard. Sofie and Jake became great friends while Victor took the role of alpha dog. All seemed to enjoy the new dwellings well enough... except Cristine. That is, having 3 dogs began to take a toll on us (including myself). The dog food, the smell, the hair... It was driving Cristine mad, and me a little frustrated. And then, we hit the wall. Micah was born.

In my world, the quote is "All bets are off" while in Cristine's world, her quote is "Baby first." Unfortunately for Jake, he was not second, nor third, but dead last. Mildly, we've been trying to find someone to take Jake in, but have not found someone we were confident would take good care of him nor a no-kill shelter that would take him (most were full). At this point, Cristine and I have switched roles (yet again in our marriage). This time, I'm the one trying to convince her to keep Jake as she continues to feel the frustration of having Jake around.

So today, while walking the dogs, I thought of two anecdotes. The first is the reconnecting with an old college friend who has one dog. We've never talked about it, but it would seem logical to me that if she wanted to have another dog, she could simply adopt one. For me, we adopted the dogs we wanted, and then we had an "oops". Now, it's not that we could have really avoided it, but maybe we could have just said "no". But, here's what was at stake. We either take Jake in or he dies in a shelter because no one (including us) want him. Not much of a choice. But, now that Jake is part of the family, like other "oops" situations (dog or otherwise), the only option is to keep and love him. Right? And to me, it's not a baby or dog choice here. It's just hard to keep Jake around, the big lug. Anyway...

The second anecdote comes from visiting my old high school buddy recently. His wife is a vet. So, I was recounting my predicament of having 3 dogs and a new baby. For some reason, I addressed his wife and asked if she knew of anyone who'd take in a German shepherd. She said, "I wouldn't wish a German shepherd on anyone". That kind of took me off guard, but I can't blame her for saying that. My life is hard with a German shepherd. However, is that really the attitude I should have? I mean, this isn't like the garbage dump or nuclear power plant you don't want in your back yard. This is a loyal and faithful dog that also has bad habits like shedding, drooling, smelling badly, and eating like there's no tomorrow. I always tell Cristine that some day, Jake will save our lives. The house will be on fire; Sofie and Victor will be across the street already waiting for us, but Jake will be rummaging through the hallways trying to get to us and warn us of the danger. I'm confident of this. This is a good dog and why we wouldn't want to keep him continues to nag at me.

Anyway, Cristine and I struck a deal tonight. To ease her frustrations, I agreed to brush Jake at least twice a week and get a new brush. That I can do. He's part of our family and would hate to have Micah miss out on getting to know this great dog.

Falling Apart

2007-12-04T22:31:00.000-06:00

As I trudge through week #2 of my life without wisdom teeth, I thought I'd recap the current ailments (from head to toe) I'm currently dealing with. Some are on the minor side, while others... well, I really need medical attention.

1. Headaches

Probably caused by radiating pain from my extraction; taking Advil.

2. Wisdom teeth extraction

Waited so long that the teeth were fully grown and took deep cuts to remove them; taking Hydrocodone (Vicodin substitute) and Advil.

3. Ingrown hair on my face and neck

Tweezers, period.

4. Severely Chapped Lips

Vaseline before bed helps a lot.

5. Stiff Neck and Shoulders

I try to stretch out, but I'm always worried that it worse than a simple "I'm out of shape."

6. Throbbing Arm

I know it's not the exact warning sign, but I wonder if I'm a stroke candidate.

7. Gut

Quite literally, I'm more the man I was when I came back from Africa in 2004 weighing in at a buck fifty. It's not good at all.

8. Cyst on my lower back

I had this bump on my back for years, but since it didn't hurt, I didn't do anything. One doctor told me to squeeze it out. I had a dermatologist remove it in November.

9. Weak knees

I had ACL reconstruction surgery done in 2003 on my left knee after a pole vaulting injury. As that strengthened, my right knee did not strengthen to the same degree, nor have I given up over compensating for either.

10. Bad ankles

In high school, I rolled my left ankle triple jumping and it has never been the same.

11. Left heel

I don't know if it's a heel spur or because of my flat feet, but I have a ton of pain in my left heel. A podiatrist gave me orthodics, but my orthopedic surgeon told me that it was too hard and probably contributed to this further pain. I'm due for a second cortisone shot in a couple weeks.

12. Flat feet

What can I say? I'm a Filipino that grew up wearing beach sandals around the house. My feet are about as flat as they come.

And there you have it. Documented proof that I am officially falling apart. But, as I told the podiatrist when he told me that it's something that I'll just have to deal with for the rest of my life...

That's okay, in Heaven, it'll all be good.

Long Week

2007-11-30T08:38:00.000-06:00

Well, it has been. Yesterday, I woke up late and took a shower around lunch time. It was while in the shower when I realized that I had a follow-up appointment with the dermatologist to remove the sutures from my back. A couple weeks ago, I went in to get a cyst removed from my back. That's right, I have more than just a couple stitches on me. So, I rushed out the door into my car. It's the first time I've driven since Sunday to church. That went okay and I made it to the office. Once there and laid out on my stomach, the nurse said that removing first suture was going to be a little uncomfortable because of the natural scabbing. I told her that it was okay since I was on Vicodin (really, Hydrocodone with Acetaminophen). I wasn't going to feel the pain anyway... Then it occurred to me... "I guess I shouldn't be driving either, eh?" She agreed.

Over the last few days and nights, we've been getting the house ready for Micah's Baek-Il, a Korean custom to celebrate the first 100 days of a new child's life. The thinking goes that if they make it past 100, they're well on their way. We are going to have a few people over tomorrow, so we've been organizing and cleaning. It's really an amazing transformation for us. The house will always be a work-in-progress, but today, we've got a lot of touches that hopefully make the house presentable. I was especially glad to claim our office back. It was so hard for both of us to use the dinner table for our laptops. But, of course, that leads me to the final project of the week.

Finally rid of the mess on my desk, I was able to knock off the Track video. Shhh... don't say that too loud. I'm currently blogging while I'm trying to repair the hard drive since the video was too large and I can't even the my Power Mac to start up for lack of disk space. I'm on my laptop currently. However, I can feel the pressure beginning to lift off for me. I still have to make the DVD and copies of it for all those who gave me orders, but I can honestly say that it's coming... soon... very soon. But if anyone really knew what it took to make this video, they'd really just cry. Nonetheless, I'll blog about that after the videos are long out of my hands.

Today, I'm just hoping to be able to open my mouth and chew. That's not been so easy.

It's been a long week.

Pain

2007-11-29T21:43:00.001-06:00

So, if you didn't already know, I had my wisdom teeth pulled out on Monday. I've been home from work this whole week recovering. I didn't know how much of a pain this was going to be. Talking didn't create that much of an issue (I know that comes as a disappointment to some of you). The problem for me was eating (ah, the sympathy). I can barely open my mouth large enough to fit a banana, and that was really painful. Tonight, we had rotini pasta with cut vegetables. I couldn't even fit the pieces of pepper and onion in my mouth. I could, at best, slide pasta into my mouth. I was in enough pain that I decided to take my medications during my meal to stave of the pain.

My only conclusion to this is that there is no good time to take your wisdom teeth out. Only do it when you're young. I'm too old for this crap.

The Origins of Hip-Hop

2007-11-21T08:55:00.000-06:00

According to Nokia...

A Political Dream

2007-11-21T00:15:00.000-06:00

Not that it's ever going to happen, but while watching the news (and Dancing with the Stars), I began to long for Barak Obama and Mike Huckabee in the Finals for the Presidency. I'd actually feel like I'd be voting FOR someone instead of voting AGAINST someone.

Oh, it'll never happen, but I hope I'm wrong!

Men in Trees

2007-10-28T23:54:00.000-05:00

Someone once said that the older you get, the wiser your parents get. Well, I'd take it a step farther. The older I get, the more I realize that my dad's more willing to risk his life than me. Otherwise said, dad's a hero where I'm just a wuss.

First though, a flashback. Last year, I told my dad that I really needed to have my hedges uprooted on my property for a bunch or reasons (that I won't get into here). He lined up our family friend, Mang George, who pulled out bushes for so dirt cheap, you'd think it was a joke. Yet, he was out in my yard for a week pulling these 6 foot tall bushes out--by hand crank! He'd even try to get leverage by climbing the trees on the property. Cristine and I were horrified at the thought that an 80 year old man was not only pulling our bushes out, smoking while doing it, and could die from falling out of a tree! For the sake of time, we had him cut the project short and we just lived with it through the year. That leads us to this year.

This year, my dad was all about pruning my trees. Now, I'm not a big fan of our trees. In fact, Cristine says that I hate all our trees and am willing to chop them all down if I had the time. That's only partly true. I think our trees are too much maintenance and I'd like to do something about that. My dad's answer was to prune them. So, last month, he came over and we pruned the front yard tree for hours into the night. The tree really did look better, but that was September. For October, we attacked the back yard tree. However this time, Dad borrowed an 8 foot long handled electric chainsaw. Boy, was that fun. However, fun was not on my dad's mind. He kept looking up to higher and higher branches. We used the ladder. We coaxed our way up the tree. Now, at some point for me, I had to stop driving higher and higher. I mean, I have a family to consider. But my dad was not to be stopped.

Dad got off the ladder at one point, clinging onto the branches. Okay, I would have never done that. I'm such a wuss, I didn't even want to look. Well, he took care of business, clung on the tree, and came back to the ladder. That got me to think...

Obviously, I'm the wuss. But why is that? Are Filipinos just more courageous? Are Americans just more overly cautious? Is it that if he dies, he knows that we're going to be okay? Am I just trying to cover my family from impending doom by getting myself into the hospital?

I'm not sure I'll really ever know... It's not like my dad and I talk about such things. However, I will say this... Dad's no wuss, and that I'm certainly not a man among trees.

Planet in Peril

2007-10-26T23:54:00.000-05:00

First of all, I will say that our house is an Anderson Cooper house. That is, Cristine thinks he's good looking (that's not really what she said), and I think he has a great personality (that's not really what I said). However, she does let me watch Anderson Cooper 360 without much of a fight. That alone says enough. That said, there was no way, at this point, that I wasn't going to be fully intrigued with his Planet in Peril series which finally debuted the other day. I think there are two episodes and I've seen 1.5 of the 2, but I think they hype and AC's reputation has lived up to my expectations. It's super complicated and a far worse problem that we really are owning up to or giving thought to.

I love the resounding theme: every action causes a reaction; nothing is done in a vacuum. I think, like most Americans, that the terms "Planet in Peril" (without looking at the marketing) is a discussion about Global Warming. Yet, that's only one thing. Species loss, Deforestation/Habitat loss, and Overpopulation all contribute to continued problems with us as humans in dealing with our world and each other. Take Global Warming. No one disagrees that global warming is happening. What people disagree on is how to deal with it. In America you got Al Gore who preaches that everyone do their part in reducing their carbon footprint, but flies on private jets. Then on the other side, you've got (usually) conservatives saying correctly that alarmists like Al Gore are politicizing the issue and try to show that nature (as shown through its history) is a large contributor to this warming and its eventual cooling yet, do not make any effort to address the problems the warming is causing like the situations of people living off soon to be dried lakes or of people within feet of being underwater in their own homes. Now, these problems are "not ours" because they are in poor areas of the non-American world, but at some point we have to stop blaming and deal with the situation. But that's just one aspect.

I can see the desperation that some of these farmers have in slashing and burning forests to expand their farms. I see the corruption of illegal loggers in the Amazon. I see the hunger of the millions of people in crowded places like China and India. One situation effects another effects another effects another. It's so frustrating to watch, but so amazed at the breadth and depth of issues on and around the planet.

I will say this, there is no way that we can claim ignorance to the problems of our world. This is not to say that we can take on every battle brought up in these shows, but there is no shortage of problems that one can do their part in. Said differently, with so much bad going on in the world, why couldn't just combat it with doing so much good. And, nothing is off-limits anymore. Consider that everyone is a specialist at something. Overpopulated peoples need education. Poor people down river of pollutant factories need legal help. Animals need medical aide. Even on ABC World News, the other day, we heard about a lady who donated breast milk to South Africa and the amazing improvement children are having because of it. There's something I can do. There's something for everyone to do.

I'm not trying to be preachy here. But while the whole issue is hard to even get my arms around, thus frustrating me, it also encourages me at this point in my life. I don't necessarily feel like I have a lot to contribute to this world, but God is certainly showing me that there's no lack of causes in this world that need attention and there's got to be some need I can fulfill to help.

Sick Day

2007-10-23T23:07:00.001-05:00

Yeah, technically, it was a sick day. I had an appointment for my orthopedic doctor and my oral hygenist. On Monday, that's what I had lined up for Tuesday. But when Tuesday came, it turned out to be oh-so-much-more of a day.

At around 330a, Micah woke Cristine up to feed. That wasn't so strange, especially to me since I slept through it. Cristine woke me up at 4a because Sofie was barking. It's not like her to be like that in the middle of the night. So, I went to check on her. She and Jake didn't show signs of distress (aka, "I gotta pee!"), but I let them both outside anyway. Victor stayed in his little house inside. While they were out, I noticed that it was really cold in the house. The thermostat looked correct, but no heat. I moved it from "Auto" to "On" and while it pushed out air, it was tepid air--not hot. The dogs were long back inside while I was still trying to investigate the problem. I thought I knew where the pilot light was for the furnace, but didn't see it. I tried to smell for leaking gas, eh... no? I came back into the bedroom to tell Cristine what I found. Cristine had Micah tucked in bed with her. She said that his hands were freezing cold. I explained that I think the furnace pilot is out. For now, we lived on a space heater. We even felt bad for the dogs, so we brought them in the bedroom with us while I sorted out the problem.

I stayed up, partly because I was cold, and partly because I was afraid that the house was going to explode. At 7a, I finally called a service company that my dad recommended. Since they're based out of Westmont, they came right out and were at our door by 930a. That was good because my first appointment was in Morton Grove at 1020a. The guys had that look on their face that I dreaded. It was that look of, "we could fix it, but it won't last." Basically, replacing the thermocoupler and restoring the pilot light, while getting us up and running temporarily, wasn't even half the problem. This furnace was not even worth the $50 thermocoupler. After some debating, Cristine and I decided to forego the repair and suck up the cost for a new furnace--$2000. They were going to be back in the afternoon.

I left for the dentist, knowing full well that I could be in for some hurt. Cristine's favorite hygenist, Eva, took me on today. As she cleaned my teeth, she said some interesting things... Well, picture yourself in a dentist's chair hearing this (and not being able to respond)... "I'm the Polish cleaning lady!" or "I'm a perfectionist!" or "When was your last cleaning? Did you know you can tell how old tartar is by its color?" or "If you're in pain, take some Advil." or "I found puss in the back of your mouth behind your second molar." Needless to say, I was ready for lunch. It was at that point that they did x-rays and determined that I get my wisdom teeth pulled. The referral for an oral surgeon sits on the kitchen table.

My sister was off today and brought over her boy Zachary to play with Cristine and Micah. Because of the furnace installation, we brought all the kids' stuff upstairs and gated the dogs in the bedrooms. I offered to buy lunch and zipped over to Wendy's at 75th and Lemont. I guess I zipped over too fast and got pulled over by an unmarked police car. 47 mph in a 30 mph zone. The officer did give me some options: My license, a bail card, or $75 in cash at the police station. I knew my wallet was empty, so I asked if I could go to an ATM. He said, "I can't really let you go. I'd have to follow you--technically, you're in custody." Have you ever been told that you were in "custody"? I shook my head and he took my license away.

Back at home, lunch went without incident as Cristine and Jessica bonded, made plans, and played with the boys. I ate my chili and felt sorry for myself about how screwed up this day was so far.

I left for Dr. Shadid's office in Glen Ellyn around 215p and got there just before my appointment time. Surprisingly, I went in on time. Dr. Shadid asked me how my day was, and I said, "Well, last night we lost heat, I had my gums ripped out, and I got a ticket on my way to lunch. I suppose it's all downhill from here--unless you're recommending surgery for my foot." He didn't, but did recommend new orthodics (at $60/pair) and a massage excercise for my left foot. I drove home knowing that I also needed to buy new shoes to support my foot. Echoes of the last appointment reminded me about how close I am to getting a stress fracture because of my heel problem. I drove home by the speed limit, barely missing all the yellow lights. It was a long ride home.

Once home, Jessica left for home, the installers cleaned up and were paid, and I tried to plan for a quick shopping trip for new shoes. Micah and Cristine stayed home while I struck out on my 4 store trip. New Balance, Dick's, and the two locations of Sports Authority in Lombard. Well, one Sports Authority store finally closed, so my trip down Cermak road was cut short. However, it became unfortunately obvious that I was looking at a solid $200 for two pairs of good shoes--one for home and one for work. And then, I had to put up with a sales guy at New Balance who was telling me that both the podiatrist and orthopedic doctors were quacks and I shouldn't go back to them. This comes from a guy who works at a shoe store. However, I can small talk with anyone, and by 830p, I had my shoes and began to head for home.

It was a long day that cost us a ton of money and some sanity. However, by God's grace, we got through it. Let's hope tomorrow bodes better than today.

Jesus saved me... from high interest rates!

2007-10-17T01:05:00.001-05:00

One day in 2000 or 2001, I remember sitting in my car with my friends Ted and Ador, telling them that I had just paid off my credit cards. One of them was from a bank called NextCard. They had a great interest rate and I was able to upload a picture to design my credit card. But, when I paid it off, I closed the account and was going to cut up the card, when Ted wanted it as a mo memento (the picture was of our old small group).

Today, I was looking up savings plans for Micah when I ran across this comment to an article about NextCard:

http://www.news.com/5208-1017_3-0.html?forumID=1&threadID=2505&messageID=13564&start=-1

Once again, God saved me from impending trouble and a 28% interest rate.

Dog Proof... Baby Proof...

2007-10-12T06:50:00.000-05:00

It was admittedly a long night for Cristine. While last night, I complained that I was fading quickly around 930p, Cristine and I had earlier agreed that we needed to run the number of our finances to see how we're doing and how we're looking down the line. So, I stayed up until around 1030p pulling our paperwork and then I just crashed. I really don't remember anything except the pillow...

...at around 230a, I seem to remember burping a small child...

...at around 5a, I seem to remember burping a small child, and Cristine said that she hadn't really slept all night because Micah refused to sleep until around 1a or so. She left the room to get ready for feeding while I tried to focus in on this small child left by my side by my wife. She then returned and said, "A terrible thing has happened. One of the dogs went into the diaper pail and tore apart diapers in the living room and in the baby's room." I groggily looked again at the child and then back at Cristine and asked if this was something that I had to clean up now or could do in a hour, but honestly, I don't remember what she said. I just got up, brushed my teeth, looked for gloves and cautiously looked into the living room. They ripped up one bag and one diaper. I asked Cristine if the baby's room was the living room muliplied by a million... She said, yes. So, I didn't even look there before I went to get our vaccuum cleaner. But when I looked downstairs in the family room, there was another casualty. Another bag and diaper ripped up lay strewn across the rug. I went back upstairs, picked up the big pieces and vaccummed up the rest. I did the same for the family room downstairs... But this was all in preparing myself for the baby's room.

Now, consider that this is human feces and that alone is disgusting. But worse, it's that absorbed in a diaper in a plastic bag that the dogs got so interested in. We originally were using a gate in the hallway to prevent access by the dogs to the bedrooms, but we've been getting lax on it because they've never given us problems in the office nor the baby's room (since we took the toys off the floor). So, we thought it was pretty well dog proofed. Oh, how wrong we were. While we slept in the bedroom with the doors closed, they mounted their attack.

As I entered the baby's room, about a half dozen bags were ripped open, what represented the regular overflow of diaper bags in the pail. Fortunately, it was not strewn about like in the living room, but it wasn't a small mess either. I picked up the big pieces and vaccuumed up the rest. I went back and mopped the living room and threw everything away--it's trash day.

While I thought I had passed the initial necessity of dog proofing the house back at the condo and in our first months here, I thought the focus was going to be on baby proofing the house. Little did I know that the dogs still had a few tricks up their sleeve.

I guess it's like I've been saying since Micah was born--All bets are off.

The Search Is Over

2007-10-08T18:36:00.000-05:00

Today, I really had take advantage of the last day of nice weather to go outside and pick up dog poo. However, this day was different somehow. I think it was because I started at the back working forward instead of from the front towards the back. It was getting dark, and my back was hurting, but I couldn't get the lyrics out of my head...

You were with me all the while.

Okay, so I realize that love and poo have very little to do with each other, as is the case with my dogs and the band Survivor. But these days, strange just doesn't seem to be as strange any more... Just like how strange it was for me to just blog this, while I really had nothing to say at all... All I did was pick up dog poo.

Nobody Told Me...

2007-09-01T00:05:00.000-05:00

In the world of pregnancy, delivery, and child care, there's a lot of information, opinions, and advice out there. You'd think that it'd cover everything. But, it doesn't. I knew full well, there'd be some surprises. Now, there may be things that people told me that I just didn't buy, but happened to me anyway. Since I blocked them out of my mind, I'll consider those things, unsaid. So...

Here's my list of things that, when it comes to the whole baby thing, nobody told me about...

1. Nobody told me that baby poop comes out sounding like a big squirt gun.
2. Nobody told me that newborn diapers don't always fit newborns.
3. Nobody told me that full term babies could potentially need preemie size clothing.
4. Nobody told me that my wife would not be able to drive for 2 weeks.
5. Nobody told me that I shouldn't leave my wife alone for almost 2-4 weeks.
6. Nobody told me that babies can cluster feed.
7. Nobody told me that breastfeeding is a two (or more) person job.
8. Nobody told me that babies can develop asymmetrically based on the way they turn while sleeping.
9. Nobody told me that there's a million shots the baby is recommended to take, almost immediately.
10. Nobody told me that babies come out with hair all over their body.
11. Nobody told me that babies don't get interested in toys for a while.
12. Nobody told me that they don't wait for the dad to come back from lunch to start pushing.
13. Nobody told me that every nurse and doctor has a different opinion.
14. Nobody told me that there is no going by the book.
15. Nobody told me that you have to think about life insurance, wills, and future guardians.
16. Nobody told me that it's insane trying to save money for college.
17. Nobody told me that my baby's skin would peel off.
18. Nobody told me that I'd cry every time I pray for this little guy.
19. Nobody told me that it was all going to be such a pleasant surprise it all is.

Integrity

2007-08-31T22:25:00.000-05:00

It's kinda old news today, but I think I had to eventually write about this. And since my other computer is still churning away, I'll write while waiting...

So remember this thing about the NBA referee gambling? How insane is that? Now, it's hard enough to be a ref as it is. I've been the field judge for countless long jump and triple jump events and umped a softball game in a pinch once. It's not fun. You always hear about the bad calls. You always get the heckling. And never, ever, do you get the "nice game" or "very professional" from people. Talk about thankless. Yet, it's not really about thanks. In fact, the fact that people focus on the ref shows a problem with the ref or the ref's role or the way that people view the ref. And this is what I mean...

If a ref makes bad calls, it effects a game which is supposed to be played between the constraints of rules, a standard that's mutually agreed upon. Bad calls that don't reflect that, change the results of the game. Also, if a ref decides to step into the action of a game when it should have played itself out, it defeats the purpose of sport. But either of these can be forgiven (to some extent) if a ref has integrity. If you view the ref with skepticism that they are truly unbiased, then you'll question everything they do. How can you trust that that ref is calling what they see and not what they want to see? At that point, their effectiveness as an arbitrator is spent. Once you lose the trust of players, coaches, fans, etc. you're word is worthless.

So the key question in this whole thing is why? That is, why is integrity a big deal? It's because, it is. People say that it really doesn't matter and that one should separate one aspect of life from another. The famous Bill Clinton defense was that his private life was his private life and that he was still able to be effective in his job despite that. How about this new thing about Senator Larry Craig? How can you take a stand against homosexuality and participate in homosexual activities? It just doesn't add up. It's the simple clique of talking the talk and walking the walk. You just can't take someone seriously who says one thing, and does something completely contradictory. That's the definition of hypocrisy. And who likes a hypocrite?

So why is this a big deal? I could rant for a while, but I'll say respond in this fashion. Politicians, organizational leaders, role models, and those who have any authority over others ought to consider that integrity is one of the requirements to good leadership. Don't tell me you're against teen age drinking, but have beer mug icons on your Facebook account. That's hypocritical. Don't tell me that as a parent, I have the ultimate choice and tell me that we can't feed our child one way or another. That's hypocritical. Don't tell me that you represent me and know me when you don't even talk to me. That's hypocritical. Do I need people to be harsh in this world? Absolutely not. We've got plenty of that. However, it'd be so refreshing to have people say what they mean, mean what they say, be the same in public as they are in private, and above all, get real. There's one thing to be tactful, kind, and respectful. But living in a world without integrity only leads to the skepticism of any authority that people see which undermines the fabric of truth, reason, and sensibility.

If it was only about an NBA ref, I suppose that's one thing. But really, hypocrisy is something that no one can seem to escape the temptation of; but also something that we can all defeat by having integrity ourselves.

Bad Walk

2007-08-28T09:42:00.001-05:00

So my focus is on Micah, of course. Even Cristine said that it's very clear that our focus and concern is NOT on the dogs. Yes, they're part of our family, but our attention must be on the baby. The dogs will just have to deal. Well, today, the dogs got my attention.

This morning, our doorbell rang early. 815a or so. It was Homer Construction coming to finish installing the downspouts. I get that they've been busy with other houses and the torrential rain over the last few weeks set back their schedule a lot. However, if there's nothing to say, don't ring the doorbell. Regardless, I didn't get the door after I peeked outside. A beat later, I realized now that it was 815a and I still hadn't let the dogs out for the morning. Crap! That means, no easy romp in the back yard. It was going to have to be a a walk--with 3 dogs.

I quickly, yet reluctantly, strapped the dogs into their leashes and headed out the garage door. Now, normally, this is not big deal. However, with the focus being so concentrated on the baby, I can see that the dogs were getting neglected. And if the dogs get too neglected, they can get destructive. We don't want that. We want everyone, including the dogs, to feel comfortable and relaxed here at home. So, I struck out for a small, but legitimate walk. And at that point, I knew I was in trouble. Everything that you can imaging going wrong did.

Victor has this bad habit of marking absolutely everywhere he goes. Well, sometimes he doesn't look where he's marking--even if there are other dogs around. When there's two of us, we can avoid this, but not today. Sofie was sniffing around this rock; Victor lifted his leg; and Sofie got a mini-shower on her snout. Gross.

Then Jake was walking along a touch behind me and the other two. I called for him to catch up, but he was caught up in his leash. He's not very aware of his leash and doesn't get himself out of getting tied up easily. I usually have to help him. This time, he walked over his leash getting it wrapped right underneath his body. I looked back, called him, but he was taking a leak. A moment passed before I realized that he was leaking right on his leash. Gross!

Well, I was getting fed up, so I was cutting the short walk down to a really short walk. On the way back, an elderly man was walking down the sidewalk, so I decided to walk on the grass of the other side of the street to avoid any bad confrontations that I may not be able to prevent. So, as we were walking, Victor found a spot on the ground to sniff. It looked kinda muddy, but probably a combination of wet, poo, and something smelly. I was about to pull him away as I saw the man pass when he just went down for a roll in the grass and poo. VICTOR! I was so disgusted.

We went back inside. I was so defeated. I put all the leashes in the wash and locked Victor in the bathroom for his forthcoming bath. I wiped Sofie's face and Jake's butt off with baby wipes before returning my attention to Victor. I gave Victor a good bath in the tub, dried him off, and brushed him.

Cristine said that Micah did pretty well in his last feeding session, so he's in the crib and she's taking a well deserved nap. Meanwhile, I'm writing this blog and wondering how we're going to keep our sanity through it all.

Fatherhood

2007-08-27T11:23:00.001-05:00

To set the context, I will say that these days, there's SO much information about having a baby. From getting pregnant, to the pregnancy, to the delivery, to the recovery, to coming home, to feeding, to sleeping, and to raising... I think we felt like we had a lot of bases covered. Nothing really surprised us, but in the back of my mind, I knew that we'd be surprised by something despite all the well-meaning people, books, and resources giving us a heads up on it all...

So my brother yesterday asked me how it was now being a father. My brother Jay's wife Mary gave birth to their daughter in January. I told him that everything so far is as I expected it to be like. Changing diapers, waking up at night, carrying him around to soothe him, helping with the feedings (bottle and breast), and looking out for him around every step. What I did not expect was the emotional aspect of it all.

I didn't scream, cry, shout, or freak out when the hair, head, and fully body came out. I didn't react shockingly when the baby was handed to me. I wasn't shell-shocked when I handed the baby over to Cristine. But when the nurses and doctors left the room, leaving us three, the new Bautista family, alone for the first time. We prayed. Even writing this, I think about it and my eyes well up. It wasn't until we brought our thanks to God, that I was overcome with tears. This is our son, our amazing, newest gift from God. This is my wife, who endured the pains of pregnancy and delivery and recover, that God has given me. And what did I do? I snarfed down a small bowl of rice from the cafeteria as the pushing began for my lunch. Are you kidding me? I didn't do squat! God brought this child into being and I paid nothing for it. That's a gift that I can't even fathom. Yet, God poured down His presence at that moment before Him.

My prayer since Micah's birth is that God would truly protect him. There's no way I'm qualified to take care of this baby. He's so fragile and needy. He has a language all his own. He's not even aware of his own body at this point. Breathing is labor intensive for him. I'm constantly afraid I'm going to step and trip on something while holding him. I fear for his life every moment I'm awake (which are many more moments than I'm asleep).

So to respond to my brother's question about how is it to be a father, I guess my only significant response is helplessness. I think I can handle changing diapers, swaddling, soothing him to sleep, supporting my wife as she feeds, and the sleep deprivation. All that comes with the territory, and I've been warned. It's when I look past the practical into the emotional and see that I'm so inadequate to be his father and that I'm going to need all the help I can get from God for wisdom and direction.

All that said, I guess fatherhood is just another way for me to get another glimpse as to how God works in my life as my Father. Sounds clique if you said it to me before August 22, but nothing is more profound than this to me since Micah has become my son.

Hello from Micah

2007-08-22T13:45:00.000-05:00

Hi All...

Cristine and I want to praise God and take a moment to announce to you the birth of Micah Youngkwang Bautista. He was born on Wednesday, August 22, 2007, at 1:45p. He is 6 lbs 1.1 oz and 19 in.

Mama and Micah are doing very well. We'll be posting pictures on our Flickr page and Baby Blog page during our stay in the hospital.

http://babybautista.blogspot.com
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jermball30/sets/72157601272453343/

Lord willing, we'll be home on Friday. We hope to see you all soon!

-Jeremy, Cristine, and Micah

Cry?

2007-08-09T23:26:00.001-05:00

I know you shouldn't cry over spilled milk, but how about spilled soy sauce on a white shirt?

The Role of a Man

2007-08-07T19:57:00.000-05:00

I really do appreciate that men and women are different. I'm constantly reminded of that these days as I attend to my wife as she's been carrying our baby over the last 8 months. Certainly, "we" are not pregnant--I only look the part. That got me thinking though. So what is my role? So, I decided to try to compile a list of the role of a man. This is not exhaustive, nor will it necessarily true in your house, but for me, I guess I know my role.

1. To kill bugs
2. To reach up to high cabinets and shelves
3. To pick up dog poo
4. To charge the cell phones
5. To refill the dog food
6. To cut the grass
7. To make sure the computers work
8. To make sure the Internet is running
9. To make the wedding video
10. To rod the plumbing
11. To move furniture
12. To build furniture
13. To bring the groceries upstairs
14. To fetch ice and water
15. To grill
16. To put up blinds
17. To geek up the house
18. To upload pictures
19. To do yard work
20. To make holes in the drywall
21. To fix holes in the drywall

It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it. Uh-oh... Cristine just got back home. Can't be blogging... not on the list!

I Tried...

2007-07-31T07:00:00.000-05:00

So, I've been feeling really sluggish. I'm basically getting out of bed, getting ready for work, going to work, pick up Cristine at the Metra, find food, run errands, and then conk out because of fatigue. There has got to be more energy that I can tap into. I've still got the video to work on and a million things to do around the house before the baby come--not to mention all the stress of finishing up my crap at work before the teachers come back. So, I came up with a plan... I'm going to bike ride in the morning.

Considering that they people doing the siding on my house and I haven't been parking in the garage for about a week, I realized that I could actually get access to my bike. So, yesterday, I took the bike down from its hooks, dusted it off, pumped up the tires, tested the brakes, and gave it a quick ride down the street. The gears shifted fine, the brakes responded normally, and I was hyped. Tuesday morning, I was going to ride!

Tuesday morning (45 minutes ago) finally came. I got up, changed clothes, worked (and reworked) the iPod and earbuds just right, got my keys in a sports pouch, and walked into the garage. I opened the garage, mounted my bike, and rolled out down the driveway.

Ah! The cool air... The sun slowly rising... The feel of rolling down the driveway onto the street... And then I took my first right turn towards the park...

Blub... Blub... Blub...

You've got to be kidding me... I had a flat on my rear wheel. I got off my bike, walked the bike back up the driveway, closed the garage, and came inside to let the dogs out.

Sad. Back to normal life. But I tried!

Sushi Savoring

2007-07-26T07:38:00.000-05:00

In college, I remember a funny comedy sketch that I saw where the girl did this amazingly sultry, funny, and wholly tongue-in-cheek description of how it is to eat sushi. Err, I mean, sAvOr sushi. The ginger... the soy... the masago... the fish... then the wasabi hit... WoOoO! Yeah, blogging does no justice to this. However, it's simply true.

Are you nuts? You don't eat sushi. You savor sushi. It's too dang expensive to chow down on a couple rolls? And the good ones? Dang! You better be on a big date to do that more than a couple times a month. But even so, ah... what does go down better than a perfectly blended spicy tuna roll. Oh! And how about a good spider roll with soft shell crab. Ah! Then, the wasabi hit! BANG!

But my thoughts drift... A couple weeks ago, I wrote about hot dog eating contests. Man, and I give them credit. But something odd came to mind while at Matsuya on Tuesday with Cristine. Is there such a thing as a sushi eating contest? What a travesty if it were so!

Well, I searched Major League Eating's website for sushi, and nothing was found. God bless those people. Now there's a respectable organization! So I went to the Internet and did a search on sushi eating contests and I found this video [ MetaCafe ]. How sad.

You know, I get that after the 7th White Castle slyder, it starts losing it's kick. I get that after about 4 hot dogs, it's like mush. I get that you can only eat so many hard boiled eggs before you start losing your mind. But a foot's worth of wasabi? Twenty feet of rice, seaweed, and something? That's just not right.

It's just not right.

Not Real Doctors

2007-07-25T06:55:00.001-05:00

In the rare case that I have a podiatrist reader here, be forewarned. It's not personal, but this is the stuff I've heard around the way... Podiatrists are not real doctors.

A quick Google search on the subject shows that there is a legitimate debate out there regarding the topic. Well, here's my addition to the topic. My wife's co-worker's husband quipped one time about podiatrists not being real doctors. Himself, he's an anesthesiologist. Unverifiable to me, but apparently it's spoken of that podiatrists go to podiatry school, not medical school. Interesting.

Well, I went to a podiatrist earlier this year and it was okay. He indicated to me the problem I suspected that I had in the first place: flat feet. He fitted me with orthodics, and I was on my way. The orthodics were very hard on the heel, but gave me the support I was looking for. It also cost hundreds of dollars to get. At the time, I asked if it was okay for me to use it during sports or heavy activity. He said that it should be fine. Months later, now into my church softball season, my left heel begins to sting with pain.

This time, as my wife and discuss the options, I opted for an orthopedic doctor. I visited the surgeon who reconstructed my ACL back in 2003, Dr. Haythem Shadid. He's with Genesis Orthopedics. Since they did such a great job for me then, I knew he'd give me good care now. Besides, he's a sports medicine doctor and pro-sports minded. So my appointment was set for yesterday afternoon.

Upon entry, while having to wait a long time, I did take note that almost everyone in that office (this wasn't his regular office, but one he stations at once a week) was there to see him. That's a good sign in terms of business. When I did come in, I eventually was relieved to know that what I had was something he could take care of--with a cortisone shot and orthodics. I pointed out my current set to which he said, "but not those." I needed something softer, but not as soft as those you can buy in the store. He asked me my shoe size and it fit like a glove.

Wait a second here, a podiatrist checked me out, fitted me, then made me spend hundreds of dollars (the actual cost was more than the baby crib), and it was too hard? He hit me with a shot, stuck the new orthodics in my shoes, and I was out the door with brief instructions: see him again as needed; probably shouldn't go hard until the pain subsides; wait 2-3 days for the cortisone to kick in. I got in my car and drove home.

Are you kidding me? That's it?

I'm not denying that podiatrists don't work hard. However, I'm not so inclined to go with one the next time I have a foot problem. It just doesn't seem worth the trouble.

Why is this taking so long?

2007-07-14T01:46:00.001-05:00

Yow! Today, I took my normal half day at work to hammer at the Track video for the afternoon. Even with that, I know that this is taking a long time. In the past, I used to take about an hour per minute. These days, it took me an entire afternoon to get one quality minute done. I shake my head in disbelief at myself. Why?

I think I know why. Now, I'm not writing this to try to excuse how long people have been waiting. I can't excuse stupid reasons, but I think I have some other things going on here. I think it's really hard to find good music. Every song I try has to be edited down to get the good beats. It never used to be like that. And then the footage is, well, not so good. There's a lot of garbage that I have to sort through. Some of it is my own fault (turn off the camera while carrying it) but there's a lot of waste when others took the camera too. Thirdly, my computer has not been the most cooperative. For some reason (probably because the project is too large), it won't let me scrub through footage easily and quickly. I have to go frame by frame. That's not helping when I have 30-45 minutes of footage to parse per meet. Sigh. But, all that said, I don't think that's what's keeping me from finishing more quickly. I think the real reason is me.

I think I've tapped out on creative juice. All season, I envisioned the opening sequence. I saw that and made it. However, I didn't have inspiration for the rest of the year. On top of it, I used so many new techniques in that opening sequence that I pretty much ran out of cool things to do with the video. Now of course, I could put up crap, but I always end up changing it in the end because I can't stand the sight of my name attached to crap--especially videos. So far, I'm happy with what I have--it's just takes so much longer to make it: find the music; edit the music; find the clips; cut the clips; get the pattern; find more clips; change the angles; mark the time; drop in the hook; where's the segue way to the next sequence? It's so much harder than the way it used to be.

Again, I apologize to the Tracksters who've been waiting for this year's video. I did make a dent today. But, I need sleep before tomorrow comes. Whoops, it's already here.

My Take on What the Pope Said

2007-07-11T00:01:00.000-05:00

Yahoo was publishing an Associated Press report from Rome on July 10, 2007 regarding what Pope Benedict said regarding non-Roman Catholic churches. I believe it made it on the 10p news here in Chicago. To say that I did not have a reaction to this would be a lie. However, I'm not offended as I am torn in so many other ways that I'm truly left speechless.

Before continuing, I will note that I was raised as a Roman Catholic and have no fight to pick with Catholics. Today, I consider myself a follower of Jesus Christ and follow the teachings of the Holy Bible. I am not a theologian nor a Bible scholar. However, I do feel like I have to speak my peace regarding the Pope's statements. Finally, I realize, even from the time that I was going to old Notre Dame Church in Clarendon Hills, IL, that many people didn't buy all that Catholicism had to offer and teach. I doubt that all Catholics will line up directly behind the Pope on this issue. However, again, my remarks are only a response to the statements, not blanket arguments against a group of people. With that said, if I haven't lost you yet, please take these statements as simply that--my response to this article and the Pope's comments; not an attack on Catholics as a whole.

(are the PC police happy now? =) )

So the Pope said that if you call yourself a Christian, but don't go to a Roman Catholic church, you can't really call that church of yours a church at all. They are "ecclesial communities and therefore did not have the 'means of salvation.'"

The other communities "cannot be called 'churches' in the proper sense" because they do not have apostolic succession — the ability to trace their bishops back to Christ's original apostles — and therefore their priestly ordinations are not valid, it said.

You mean to say that unless you go through a Roman Catholic bishop that has some connection to the original apostles, you're have no means to salvation? If I read my Bible, it says this:

What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

"For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. -Romans 8:31-39

Nothing comes between me and Jesus. Who has the right to say that someone has no access to salvation because their overseer is not traced back through history? It is only Jesus who judges. It is only Jesus who has the right because the punishment for the sin that would keep us out of a holy Heaven and away from a holy God was paid for in Jesus' blood. So He alone has the key--not a Catholic bishop. Furthermore:

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. -Ephesians 2:8-9

Everyone has the freedom to believe what they want to believe. And, if everyone has freedom in their minds to believe what they want, then that means everyone (Jew, Christian, Muslim, Atheist, Buddhist, Agnostic, etc.) has access to becoming a believer and access to salvation in Jesus Christ. Again, a church nor bishops nor people truly have the power to save. Only Jesus.

Again, I'm not really offended that the Pope says that my church is not a legitimate church. See, because frankly, my hope is not in my church. My hope is in my faith in Jesus Christ--the one that didn't let anything, even death, come between Him and me.

Why Ethiopia?

2007-07-10T23:18:00.000-05:00

First off, I wanted to let people know, if they're interested, that I posted pictures from the Faith Alliance Bible Church Summer Missions Trip to Ethiopia during July 2004.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jermball30/collections/72157600738785521/

Also, I wanted to explain why and why now? Well, the quick answer is "why not?" However, the personal answer comes from a realization I had recently while talking with Cristine. So at the risk of sounding dorky, I'll continue.

The Great Commission calls all Christians to play an active role in missions work around the world to bring people from every tribe, tongue, and nation into fellowship and worship of Jesus Christ. When I hear this, I usually allow the familiarity of the verse (Matthew 28:16-20) to hinder my actual interest. So, recently, Cristine and I have been trying to encourage our interest in missions by going to missions meetings at church, serving at the missions table after service, and meeting with the missions pastor. However, nothing has really built up to "critical mass" for me. Even our trip to Ecuador in 2006 was hugely significant in terms of developing practical next steps for us, I'm still missing something, not so much in my heart, but in my interest. Don't get me wrong, of course. It's not that I'm not interested in missions, but it's that my feeling is so flat about it. This is where Ethiopia comes in.

Pastor Reggie Ramos, the leader of our team, gave me and others a DVD of all the pictures he had from our month in Ethiopia. I began to upload these pictures to my Flickr site a while ago for archival purposes, but stopped. For some reason, I started looking at those pictures again, and realized that I could just upload them while I was at work or sleeping at night. So I did. Then, as I began to scroll through the pictures, I began to remember the stories. I went downstairs and got my journal from the trip and remembered that I always wanted to transcribe the entries into my blog. I never got that far. However, now, I'm interested to match the stories with the pictures. And so it began again... that is, my renewed, sincere interest in that trip.

At the time, of course it was powerful, blessing, life changing. It still holds to that description. But something was lost since then. Even as I read my testimony, I remember saying to my friends that even in that short period of time I was back, Ethiopia faded quickly into the background while work, home, any my personal life took hold of my immediate attention. Today, I'm hoping to turn that around.

All that said, this is the bottom line: There is really no need in my life, one that has been blessed by God to have received such an experience at Faith Alliance Bible Church, in Ethiopia, in Ecuador, at Moody Church, and at WMBI-AM, to artificially well up interest in missions. God has already been trying to show me his heart for the world all through my life, and especially now. The cross-cultural experiences continue to prove to me that there is more to this world than America and that God's heart extends far beyond this land. Today, this reset attention I'm placing on Ethiopia is my first step to just take what God is giving and doing and going with it.

Lucky Day for Weddings?

2007-07-07T23:57:00.000-05:00

Now of course there's all this news about people wanting to get married on 7.7.7 for good luck, but I didn't really put much weight to it. Ironically, I was planning on going to a wedding that night, but didn't really make the fully connection (mostly because it was a Christian wedding, and that kind of superstition is just absurd). However, something clicked with me on Saturday 7.7.7.

Between my softball game in Clarendon Park (Montrose and Clarendon) and my Noon appointment at the Hotel Allegro (Randolph and Clark), I passed a huge line that stretched around the corner of Randolph onto the sidewalk of Clark. I thought that it could well have been the line for a matinée show at the Cadillac Theater (next door to the hotel), but then I realized that the theater was on the next block. As I passed the line, I saw the sign: City Hall. Yes, all those people were standing in line at Chicago's City Hall to get a marriage license on 7.7.7.

Wow.

Push, Pull, and Priorities

2007-07-04T03:27:00.000-05:00

(note that the beginning of this blog was drafted on 3/8/07 at 651a; I've noted where I picked up and finished; I apologize for anything that turns out to be anachronistic)

Two situations recently highlighted a sole question to me:

When you take a stand, how long should it last?

For the last few years, I've been volunteering for an alcohol/drug/tobacco prevention program at the District I work at. These days, I'm conscious about the kind of programs I get involved with. This one has earned my respect enough for me to spend my time on it. However, recently, I heard about an incident that if true, would be an amazing shock and disappointment to me. Yet, in saying that, is it surprising? Besides that fact that if someone is under 21, they are breaking the law by drinking anything alcoholic, for anyone to have made a commitment to not drink so as not to be hypocritical during the program, shouldn't be so eager to drink after the program finishes. By one account, this was a month after the big retreat. Illegal, yes. Hypocritical, possibly. Sad, definitely.

There were people coming away from that retreat who vow NEVER to touch another drink. There were people who's lives were changed to the extent where they were going down a path to trouble and were turned around for good. I claimed these as victories. It's not that people didn't drink for a weekend or that people were away from home to get away. No. That's not victory. It's that through that, lives were saved. I don't take that lightly. Lives were saved. If I played any part in it, I am honored beyond imagination because if someone saved my life, I'd honor them. So then to hear that some people have considered their commitment to not drink as ending after the retreat ended is more than troubling. To me, it's downright pathetic.

All that said, I do also want to point out that the student commitment was technically only for the duration of the program. Basically, this is saying that once the the retreat is done, everyone is free to make their own choices. The commitment ended as agreed upon. So what could I really expect, especially out of high school kids?

Unfortunately, I just expected more.

The second situation was a conversation I had over dinner which related to my time this weekend at UIUC celebrating the 10th Anniversary of the Asian American Studies program. Honestly, I appreciated the challenge of my friend's questions to me because it really dug to the deep question in my heart--what's my issue? That is, where do I see myself in this world of 10 years ago, all grown up into what I see today at UIUC.

My answer is that my heart wants to act. My head says, be smart. That is, there is still a need. I can't fully put my finger on that need, but it's there. It's the kind of need that begs me to get involved (often to my detriment, but always to my satisfaction). It's the kind of help I want to give kids at Snowball. It's the kind of help I want to give to those struggling with budgeting. It's the kind of help I want to give at a soup kitchen. When I see a need, and I actually have the skills to help them, I want to be there for them. In this case, with the struggles of organizations back on campus, I want to bring my experience to help.

The connection between the two is that both situations are on opposite sides of the same thing. Both have the core of validity, legitimacy, and need. However, one situation pushes me while the other pulls me.

(again note at this point that I wrote the above text on 3/8/07 and am finishing it 7/4/07; the following statements will be made with the advantage of 4 months of time passing)

However, neither can even stand a chance to truly effect my life the way my new baby will (and is already). It breaks my heart that kids (as well as adults) can be so fickle about their convictions. It stirs my soul that the work for equal dignity for people is not yet finished. And while these forces push and pull me, I see and understand so much better now, 4 months after the frustration that drove me to start this blog in March, that I can only do so much.

Cristine and I met with one of our pastors this Sunday and he described the struggle he had in ministry (among other things) when he and his wife began to have children. He first had to cut out things from his life--good things. When they had another child, he then had to cut great things out of his life so he could spend time with his wife and kids. Today, he's finishing up classes, working part-time as a pastor, and caring for yet another child at home. Despite the push and pull these good and great things have in his life, he chose to not be swayed from the things that really matter.

Does teenage drinking upset me? Absolutely. Does racism stir me? You bet. Will my passion for those things ever be greater than my love for my family? I'm going to do every thing I can to make sure it doesn't--so help me God!

So, to answer my own question that I asked 4 months ago: When you take a stand, how long should it last? I think I need to consider not just the commitment of standing, but the value of that stand itself in my life. I think in March, I was becoming consumed with the push and pull, particularly of these two issues. Today in July, I see more clearly that God has different plans for me and those battles can and will be fought by those He ordains to fight them directly. So God bless them in their efforts. I will be seeking God's blessing on my journey too. How long should it last? Until God says otherwise. I think that's just the way it is. For me, I believe God told me "otherwise."

Rice, Soy Sauce, and the Real Deal

2007-07-04T01:51:00.000-05:00

Three episodes and one anecdote to frame my rant...

1. I remember in college, while visiting my friends at Illinois State University, finding it a little odd that my White (*note, I'm not going to get PC here and deal with "proper titles"--it's not the point of this blog) friends had a rice cooker. That was cool. Then she said out loud but to herself, "Hmmmm... Soy sauce or teriyaki sauce?" I asked for clarification on her dilemma. She said, "I really like having rice and teriyaki sauce, but I had that last night." I shuddered at the thought of either choice being at all appetizing.

2. This article: http://www.chowhound.com/topics/322508 (note the food theme of my last few blogs. =) )

3. Cristine went into the International Mall in Westmont to get herself a small snack on Monday. She saw a bunch of White teenagers taking their meals to their table. Turns out that at least one kid was carrying rice with only soy sauce to top it. And that there was that person's meal--their entire meal.

And, the anecdote...

1. Recently at a formal dinner, a White young man from a southern border state (I want to say Texas, but I'm not sure) was telling me about how the Mexican food in Chicago is just not really authentic. He said, "Lalo's does it right, but most places are just not real Mexican food." Meanwhile, across the table from me, a guy born south of the border is sitting there speaking Spanish to his wife. I know the Latino guy, so I know he knows what's up. I was becoming increasingly uneasy as I could just feel tension growing in me. I thought to myself, "Is this guy seriously To top it off, a Mexican was sitting across the table? By the way, Chicago has more Mexicans living here than Houston. You don't need someone non-Mexican to determine what's authentic and what's not." Because of my uneasiness, I stopped engaging in that topic and moved quickly to something else to ease my tension.

I suppose that I could have responses like those found in the Chow Hound article. It's a cultural thing. Yeah, there's truth to that. However, I think Cristine hit the real issue for us. It's not disgust for the difference in culture (as some in the Chow Hound article may have you believe). It's frustration that well meaning people are missing out on really good Chinese food (or Korean food or Filipino food or good food in general) when they (White, Black, Blue, Purple, or whatever color God gave you) are eating rice and soy sauce (or teriyaki sauce for that matter) and thinking that that's a legitimate meal. It's just not.

Don't get me wrong in this, if you like rice and soy sauce, eat up. However, I won't be the last to say to you to consider opening your horizons to the amazing variety and joy of Asian food.

That said, and to honor my favorite news show, Anderson Cooper 360, I would like to take a look at it from a different perspective. While the above is true, I will not (nor should anyone else) quickly claim that they know what authentic ______ food really is.

I simply do not understand how people can call ANYTHING authentic in terms of food. Be it as it may, I know better than to go into Panda Express thinking that the Orange Flavored Chicken is the real deal. Puleezzzee! Or, if I really thought that Chipotle represented true Mexican cuisine, I should slapped out of my senses. However, even when you go into a well respected (or maybe not even so respected) restaurant, people in there will rave about how authentic the food is. Are you kidding me? We live in America. We live in the land of taste testing and market research. We live in the land of illusion and impressions. We live in a place where drinking sugar water (cola) seems just as legitimate as drinking regular water--if there is such a thing anymore. What's authentic? Who has the right to establish that standard on any food here? I surely can't.

Now please understand that I'm not so much insulted (not personally of course, but more intellectually if at all), but I'm more amazed that people think they know what the real deal is... especially when they're American... like me (regardless of White, Black, Blue, Purple, or whatever color God gave you). We grew up on virtual this and pseudo that. It's hard to just get something that really is WYSIWYG. So how do you know what's truly authentic? Further, I will finally say that this is not to say that there is absolutely no one who knows what authentic something is. There are. However, I'm not so quick to believe just anyone who's eaten a lot of (let's just say, Mexican) food, particularly an American (like me), when they say, "Yeah, that's authentic (Mexican, for example)!" Most of the time (but not always), it just doesn't have any credibility.

I'll frame it one final way. When I visited Ethiopia with my former church in 2004, the first two villages that we stayed in offered us a goat to eat (this was a great honor and highly sacrificial gift they offered). This wasn't goat pieces under plastic; it was a live goat they they dragged over and laid over a rock. Then they handed one of us a knife to slaughter the animal. Both times, I had full cognition that the goat I saw was the goat we ate [ pix1 | pix2 (don't click if you'll get grossed out)]. Even to this day, I still will not claim to know what's authentic Ethiopian and what's not, but at least I know, without a doubt, that I ate goat (and it was really good). Can we as Americans say that much about food here? And if we can't, who are we to call out what's authentic and what's not?

The Geese That Stopped Traffic

2007-07-04T01:31:00.002-05:00

I don't really have much to say about this. The pictures speak for itself.

On my way home for lunch, I noticed that oncoming traffic was at a dead stop on 63rd St. The car to my left slowed down, so I did too. Between the stopped cars was a perfectly straight line of geese making their way across 4 lanes of traffic.

What can you say about that?

Hot Dog!

2007-07-04T00:26:00.001-05:00

Happy July 4th!

So yesterday when I came home for lunch, I turned on ESPN and caught a re-broadcast of the 2006 Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest. I guess the big news this week is that Takeru Kobayashi, the reigning, 6 time defending champion is complaining about an injury to his jaw. They liken it to a sports stars who injure that Achilles Heel part of their body, so crucial to their specific sport--that is, if you can call hot dog eating a sport. that said, it is on ESPN (just like the Spelling Bee | video)

But really, I barely could finish 9.5 White Castle sliders during my good eating years in high school. And now, you're telling me that someone's inhaling almost 60 hot dogs (with buns) in 12 minutes? That's 5 per minute. That's a hot dog every 12 seconds--without breaks--for 12 minutes.

I'm sorry for how stupid this sounds, but this is fascinating! It must be to others also. Look at this Mastercard commercial.

I think the quote that got me was one guy being interviewed last year said, "Yes, I'm a professional eater." You know, it's one thing to get riled up about cooking. It's another thing to get into presentation. It's yet another thing to be into preparing the atmosphere in the room. All those things, I can see in the competitive arena. However, eating... And to be PAID to eat? Apparently, this is no joke. Take a look at the IFOCE website.

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch

2007-06-25T17:40:00.000-05:00

Normally, the sound of crunching at my feet at this time of year, every 17 years, brings a certain amount of joy, disgust, and wonder. It's the sound of cicadas being smushed beneath my feet. I mean, I'm seeing dead carcases all over. Smashed under my garage door, smushed inside my car trunk, flattened by walkers by... The other day, that joy, disgust, and wonder didn't really change--except in magnitude when I saw Victor munching away at his new found, outdoor snack. The pictures speak for themselves.

I tried to kick it away from him and then jam the bug between the deck planks. He went right back to it, licked it out, and crunch... crunch... crunch...

Nice.

Big Yellow Taxi

2007-06-16T01:52:00.000-05:00

So among the many things happening in Westmont, it turns out that this story slipped passed me by [ link ]. It's kind of interesting. I went to the school to take care of some work inside, and I actually saw the cutting of the tree down. I thought I should take pictures, but instead, I just went on working. However, I did get these pictures of the stump:

Then Friday, I took pictures from the second floor of the school:

Now, don't get me wrong, I know how parking is at the school. We are desperate for parking there. However, part of me does honestly empathize with these kids. I mean, I'm a Manning School alumnae. That is, I went to Central School which was renamed Manning in 1985, my 5th grade year. Yeah, that tree was there and saw me through those early 1980s. I'm sure I touched that tree countless times during recess. I'm sure I enjoyed its shade many a day. Yet, I honestly can't say that I really recall it specifically. Believe me, I get that our world is short on respect for the past and historical memory. However, sometimes we have to let go to gain.

With that said, the song Big Yellow Taxi runs through my mind (I just purchased the Counting Crows/Vanessa Carlton version on iTunes). So of course, the lyrics of interest are:

Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you got till it's gone
They paved paradise and put up a parking' lot

Well, is that what they've done here? I don't know... I'm a little torn.

I will say this much though. We really needed the parking space and I just love listening to Vanessa Carlton sing.

4 People In The Bed

2007-06-16T01:26:00.000-05:00

Now, it's not that I'm being gross or inappropriate or over-revealing, but I just need to get it off my chest. It's getting crowded on the bed.

Ever since little "Billy" has grown large enough to be seen by all, it's been interesting. See, because that meant that Cristine has had to sleep on her side. And so, that means that to bring the most comfort for her, we needed to get her a big body pillow--you know, the 6 foot long pillows that she can hang on to and stay on her side. It's become the running joke in our house that it's a third person in the bed. And, it really is. Often, by the time I get to bed (after blogging or working or what not), there's just a slice of real estate that's left after accounting for Cristine and the "third person", her body pillow. In fact, it's often hard to see her past the pillow. It's been kind of a "barrier" or "wall" between us... sadly.

And then, there was another.

See, the 5 foot body pillow we bought didn't really fit the 6 foot body pillow case. Admittedly, it was a little strange and tough to get comfortable with (I tested that out for myself). So, I did what any other good husband would do. I agreed to buy an actual 6 foot body pillow. However, we did not get rid of the 5 foot body pillow.

And then there were "four people" in the bed.

Now, it's just grab a space wherever I can. I'm sure there's a better way. I'm sure we could have found a simpler solution. But, you know what, it's okay. Why?

It's all for the comfort of the mother of my child. It's all for the comfort of the woman I love. It's all for the comfort of my best friend (after Jesus) in this life. It's all to take care of her whom God has gifted me so wonderfully with.

I'll put up with 4 "people" on the bed. In the end, Lord willing, we'll have 3 happier people in our family. And I already thank God for that.

Papa Speaks!

2007-06-14T23:59:00.000-05:00

Referring to what Baby Bautista was saying in his blog... I just want to reiterate that Jake is probably our greatest liability in terms of immediate safety for the baby.

Tonight I just filled out a short survey for Blue Cross/Blue Shield regarding an incident that happened that put me in the hospital. I couldn't remember what exactly put me there, but it was on May 15, 2006. What happened? Softball? Track? Then Cristine reminded me that I had to go to Northwestern Hospital. I remember that. I did hurt my ankle, but from what?

May 14, 2006 was a Sunday. We were supposed to go out to dinner with Ama and Apa (my parents-in-law) but they were at church (and didn't tell us). So, we met Joe and Yaejung (with Nathaniel, their 4 year old at th time) in Vernon Hills at the Kim house--but, no Ama and Apa. They wanted to get their house ready to go on the market, so we were all taking out our stuff and what we wanted. Joe was cleaning out the aquarium while Nathaniel and I took Jake out to the back yard to play. We knew that Jake's life in the Kim house was dull, boring, and mostly inside. However, the backyard was far from prepared for showing. The grass was up to my knees--even taller than Nathaniel. I bolted to the corner of the yard with Jake and Nathaniel chasing me. Jake was so happy. His 80 pounds of joy galloped awkwardly towards me. For a moment, I lost sight of him in the tall grass. I looked forward and then down and then SWOOP!

Jake cut me off from left to right directly in front of me. I was totally caught off guard and he flipped me on my back, twisting my ankle. I rolled around on the ground (which probably was not... cleaned of dog doo in a while...) writhing in pain calling out to my wife (inside) for ice. Nathaniel finally caught up to me, shook his head, and said, "you have to be careful." Wise. Truly, wise. I literally dragged myself over to the patio and called out for ice again. Eventually, I limped inside, and then back out to the car for dinner. While eating at this Japanese restaurant, I iced my ankle on another chair.

I didn't think it was a big deal, but when the next day didn't bring further relief, my wife took me to Northwestern Hospital in Chicago to get it checked out. This is now May 15, 2006.

I'm convinced that the baby and dogs will never, under any circumstance, to be alone together, unsupervised. Who knows what will happen. I just know that if Jake can flip me over unexpectedly, what would happen if it was me that Jake is excited to see...

The Girl From Ipanema

2007-06-13T17:14:00.000-05:00

Everyone knows the song The Girl From Ipanema, right? It's a classic. Well, I totally love the song, but have been away from it for a while. A few months ago when my brother was giving me music to set up for his wedding, he had a version of the song as sung by Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto (at least, I think it's them). Of course, this is the original, and I was like... Wow! That really is awesome. Portuguese, English, bossanova... It was like a dream listening to it. It's on my iPod now, and I listen to it all the time. So, as dorky as it sounds, I want to blog about it because I have to get this whole thing off my chest--that is, everything I want to say about this song.

First of all, it's the saddest love song I think I've ever heard. Here are the lyrics. First in English as most people know it. Following, it's in Portugese, which if you heard it, you'd just fall apart in the Getz/Gilberto version:

The Girl From Ipanema

Antonio Carlos Jobim - Norman Gimbel
Portuguese lyrics by Vinícius de Moraes (below)

Tall and tan and young and lovely,
The girl from Ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes
each one she passes goes "a-a-ah!"

When she walks she's like a samba that,
Swings so cool and sways so gentle,
That when she passes
each one she passes goes "a-a-ah!"

Oh, but I watch her so sadly,
How can I tell her I love her?
Yes, I would give my heart gladly
But each day when she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead not at me
Tall and tan and young and lovely,
The girl from Ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes
I smile, but she doesn't see,

She just doesn't see,
No she doesn't see

Garota de Ipanema
Antonio Carlos Jobim - Vinícius de Moraes
English lyrics by Norman Gimbel (above)

Olha que coisa mais linda, Mais cheia de graça,
É ela menina, Que vem que passa
Num doce balanço, caminho do mar

Moça do corpo dourado, Do sol de Ipanema,
O seu balançado é mais que um poema
É a coisa mais linda que eu já vi passar

Ah,porque estou tão sozinho,
Ah, porque tudo é tão triste,
Ah, a beleza que existe
A beleza que não é só minha,
Que também passa sozinha

Ah, se ela soubesse, Que quando ela passa,
O mundo sorrindo se enche de graça
E fica mais lindo, Por causa do amor

There was a day a bunch of my friends and I were either Karakoke singing or singing by the piano or something and my friend Tricia went up and sang this song. Now understand that Tricia is a rather prolific singer with a broad range of exposure. However, while singing the song, she interjected the statment "Oh my gosh! This is so sad!" (or something to that effect). I guess I never really listened to the lyrics myself. When I actually did, I agreed. Dang, this was really sad!

Years pass and around the time that Lou Rawls that passed away, one radio show was playing his music in a tribute format. They played his version of the song, and I just about fell apart. I'd never heard it with such sadness and longing before. By far, the best version of that song I'd heard--and the most touching (note to self: I really should find that version and download it or something).

Then, last year, my brother shares with me the Getz/Gilberto version, and now I'm hooked. The way the lyrics say...

When she walks she's like a samba that,
Swings so cool and sways so gentle,
That when she passes
each one she passes goes "a-a-ah!"

the bossanova groove makes you even feel that samba like your watching this scene for yourself. It really does lull you into a late summer afternoon with the water lapping and people just people watching. Then...

I guess this is the joy of the song. To feel the samba, and feel the joy, and to feel the accompanying unrequited love. And the magic of it is what makes me enjoy music so much.

I guess I've listened to so much talk radio over the last few years that I've forgotten how much I truly love music. Lyrics, especially, but also I miss the groove, the beat, the harmonies, the patterns, and the sheer joy of music.

Thanks Jay for the song. Thanks Cristine for the iPod. Thank God for music.

Ouch!

2007-06-07T22:57:00.000-05:00

A few years ago, I went into Galyan's (now Dick's) Sporting Goods store and wanted to climb. If I remember the story correctly, my friends who were with me were ready to just climb. I, on the other hand, insisted that I stretch out first. And boy, did I ever. It was kind of funny, but I knew, even then, that whatever athletic activity (big or small), I had to stretch out or I was seriously going to hurt myself.

Today, my softball team, the YMYF Mustard Seeds (YMYF = Your Marriage, Your Family Adult Bible Fellowship @ Moody Church) had our first scrimmage game with another team. We pulled a couple guys off the street (literally) to join us, so we almost went 9 on 9. I tried stretching out. I did my skipping. I did my tapiokas. I did my kariokas. I did my paper cutters. I did some basic stretching. However, by the 4th or 5th inning, I knew that something not good was going on between my knees and ankles. My calf muscles were both about to pop. I could feel it while patrolling the outfield for an inning (I'm normally a shortstop). I couldn't wait to get back on the bench, rest, and stretch. But, who was up--me. Drat!

I tried to stretch a little before stepping into the box, but time had run out. I hit a tame fly ball into left field. I started for first when my right calf muscle gave up (pushed off it coming out of the batters box). I basically hit the ground in pain. The guys helped me down and stretch. Not pretty.

I'm still hurting now, at home. I've been icing and putting on a bandage, but I re-learned my lesson. Stretch out. Stretch out even more! I'm an old man. Get the heck in shape, Jeremy.

That's all I gotta say about that.

Making Way for Baby Bautista

2007-06-03T08:41:00.001-05:00

Cristine and I just started a new baby blog. If you want to catch up on how Baby Bautista's growing and doing, check it out:

http://babybautista.blogspot.com

Graduation

2007-05-29T23:00:00.000-05:00

Of course, it's not my graduation, but in some ways, it is. See, the Class of 2007 features the young people that I started my District 201 career with back in Manning School. I've not known my time at Westmont without these folks, and I'm invariably attached to this class. So, as they graduate today and move on, it makes me think about how my life has changed in the last ten years.

Ten years ago, I was so green, I didn't even question my position as a special education aide. I didn't know the first thing about autism. I didn't know anything about physical therapy. I didn't know anything about adaptive technology. Accupressure. Routines. MDCs. It was all lumped into my job. My job paid $10,000 a year. I did whatever they told me to do, and I didn't think twice that I was ill prepared or ill trained. I didn't realize how difficult my situation was until I had trouble getting a substitute for my job. I even bribed a girl with dinner to sub for me.

As I went on, I aided two more years and eventually worked in the growing IT department for two more years. I learned a lot about what really ran the District. The politics, the backroom deals, the damage control, the mind games. Meanwhile, I was itching for the chance to teach. I had just finished my Masters Degree and really wrestled with wanting to be a teacher, but not having a place for me. So again, the District found something for me.

I began to work 50% as a teacher and 50% as an IT staff person. At the time, this looked to be the best deal. I could teach my computer stuff with full control of the curriculum. Meanwhile, I had the resources of being an IT staff so I could set up my lab any way I wanted. What was supposed to be a 50/50 job turned out to be 100% x 2. It was impossible to get anything going in a reasonable amount of time. It took too long to fix things and technology preps took too long to prepare. It utlimately killed me. So, I decided to go full time into teaching while a consulting firm took my spot as IT staff. However, the school gave me 5 preps for 7 classes our to 9 periods (this includes an overton). I was so swamped with lesson planning and grading that by May, I simply resigned. It was at this point when I began to appreciate the class of 2007 again.

At the end of 2005, I began to tell the sophomores on the Track team about my decision to resign. It really killed me to not be able to see this class graduate, but the reality was that I had run my course at District 201 and there was no where else to go. I told the other people important to me at work, and they were supportive. And in the last breaths of my life at District 201, even in the middle of me trying to get a job at Northwestern University and Robert Half Technology, the District rehired me into my old job as IT staff. I was back in, much to my surprise and relief.

I've been in this position for two years now as IT staff, with my office at the High School, but also with the great privilage to coach some of my favorite people in the Class of 2007 during Track and Field season. My relationship has grown much more appreciative of these young people in these last two years. Partly, it's because they were graduating and I wanted to get to know them better as they were on the cusp of leaving me. But also, I'm drawn to them because they represent to me the growing pains of my life in the District. They were never the cause of my pain and trouble, but they were always the smiling faces and the hope of better as I searched for it through these years. Mind you, it's not always been easy nor pleasant, but nothing ever is purely pleasant when it comes to people who have become dear and close to you.

It's once been said that the polar opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. There's been classes that I've been indifferent about. Strangely enough, I've never been indifferent to this group of people.

Today, I honor and thank the Class of 2007. God brought me through 10 tough years at District 201. He also gave me the Class of 2007 to be a great source of joy through it all. Congratulations to you, Class of 2007. Godspeed to you as you head towards your future. Come visit every once in a while.

Why I Coach

2007-05-28T23:58:00.000-05:00

We had just gotten home in Westmont after a long trip back from Eastern Illinois University where we just finished up at the IHSA Boys State Track and Field Meet. And since it was late and the alarm was probably on in the school, we put a number of things away in the shed. I was walking back with a couple of the guys when one of them commented (and I'm paraphrasing):

I love that feeling of coming into the stadium onto the track, and everyone in the place is cheering since it's the first event.

I comented back, "Why do you think I coach?" I explained it like this: Coach Kaplan had gone back to her room and I stayed downstairs with Coach Wolf and Coach Fischer to chew the fat a little. The topic came up as to how best focus our athletes on the task at hand when so many distractions are apparent. One good point was that we look at it from an adult point of view and they're not there yet. Another point is that from a teenager's point of view, things we take for granted and can set aside, can be huge to them--as it probably was to us when we were younger. My point took off from there. I think the fact that we are even concerned about this topic is probably because as high school athletes, none of us in our small circle ever made it to this privilaged of a situation--to run for a State Championship. Honestly, I think that for me, I relive (and grieve) my past and play out my dreams every year I go to the State Meet.

So I guess my thoughts are all caught up in the reality of my past--being denied such an opportunity as to jump (I was a long jumper)--my present--the real joy it is to see these kids get the chance of a lifetime--and my future--to be able to leave a legacy that somehow redeems and makes up for my past through coaching and investing in these and other athletes like them. I know that as one who's prefers to be considered a "purist" in most things, I realize that it's hypocritical to say this because I should enjoy coaching simply because it benefits the kids. That's certainly true for me. However, I've come to also accept the fact that there's more to it than that.

I would love to see my long jumpers break the school record. Why? Because... well, I used to hold the Westmont High School Long Jump Record. It was broken 3 years after I set it. I the kids I coach break that record, yes, it's his name up there, but really, I know I played a part. I know it sounds selfish, but I honestly have vested interest. When my long jumper made it to State this year, you gotta believe that I was proud--proud like a parent. Honestly, a big part of me was on that runway with him.

All this to say that it used to be simple for me; and it's not so much any more. I coach because I love to work with kids. That's still true. However, I confess that I coach also because I too love to hear the roar of the crowd at the start of the first event on the track because when they cheer for my guys and girls, there's a part of me that feels it too.

The Speech That Never Was

2007-05-24T23:11:00.000-05:00

As the assistant coach, I know my role. The buck certainly does not stop with me nor does the prime privilege of bragging fall on my shoulders. It's not that I'm not capable or either, but it's not my role, and I'm comfortable with that. However, sometimes, I'm put in a position to have to fill the shoes of the head coach. I'm getting more used to running practice (a practice I didn't set up) and being responsible for things like meet management. However, it all came to a head on Wednesday when the head coach asked me to be the backup speaker for the Senior Sports Awards night. She handed me the notecards and that was that. She was going to be late, but just in case, I was supposed to be ready.

So, I was.

In some ways, I was a little sad because as I reflected on the notecards, I felt like I had somethings to say to and about these guys from my heart that I hadn't been given the platform to share. However, it's not my privilege to do that as the assistant coach. The following is what I would have said, had I taken the platform that night.

---

First of all, on behalf of the Boys Track program, I want to thank the Boosters for feeding us and taking time to honor these Senior Athletes. If you don't know who I am, I'm Jeremy Bautista, assistant coach to Rainy Kaplan who we expect to arrive at any time, but sent me honor these men for their efforts in the case of her absence. We also want to extend our thanks to the many parents who not only attended, but pitched in to help our meets run along. Without you, we wouldn't have been able to run our meets as efficiently as we do. We also thank Bonnie Wanner who took care of much of our travel logistics and the administration: Mr. Carr, Mrs. B-T, and Mr. McCord for their support of our program. As an assistant coach, now in my 7th year, I have said before, but continue to believe, that I will not coach for another group of coaches. Rainy Kaplan as our Boys/Sprints coach, Steve Wolf as our Girls/Distance coach, and my fellow assistants, Sarah Jakalski (pole vault), Jerry Fischer (throws), John Hartmann (high jump), and Chris Bailey (distance). We are a very complete and specifically skilled in our disciplines which we believe was part of the success of this year.

However, we're not here to talk about adults. We're here to honor the larger reason we've had so much success this year--our Senior Athletes. As I look at this group to my left, I remember thinking--no, feeling, sensing--that they wanted more. That is, after an amazing Cross Country season, there was fire that needed to run its course through Track and Field. Even before the first indoor meet, these guys were talking about the Illinois Prep Top Times meet, a meet that took invitations from all around the state of Illinois. It was an early season goal to run at that meet, and they did. It was the first time we went, but even there, they were already in mid-season form. That fire did not subside through the outdoor season. We won all our dual meets, won the Ridgewood and Chicago Christian Invitationals and place highly at Yorkville and Nalley losing only to 2 Class A schools the entire season. In our first year in the Interstate 8 Conference, we handily took first by 35 points looking forward to Sectionals where we finally defeated Walther Lutheran by about 12 points qualifying athletes to the IHSA State Meet in 14 of the 18 events. This is unprecedented. Why? It's in large part due to the men you see standing here.

I've often seen seniors who take senioritis so seriously, that it effects their performance on the track. Not so with these men. These men all stood up and took leadership of the team, drawing the best out of the rest of the team whether in practice or in competition. There's fire and passion in everything these men do, and the dividends are paying off. Each gentleman you see here has qualified in at least two events for the State Meet this weekend. Their season is far from finished. Their work is not complete.

Individually, let's begin with Matt Heimann. Matt will never be mistaken for apathetic when it comes to throws. As the season progressed, the terms "beastly" and "monstrous" were more and more exemplified through his throwing. Towards the end of his season, he thought that his discus began to suffer while his shot put success grew. In the end, however, he leveled out his success at the Sectional meet becoming the first Westmont athlete to double in Shot Put and Discus, qualifying in both for the State Meet. Amazing work, Matt.

Continuing on to Adam Vorha. Adam really is a distance runner. He trains with them. He strides like them. He scores with them. However, Adam is also well aware of the team and was willing to help the team out, especially half-way through the season when we really needed help in our 4x200 relay--our other sprint relay. In the end, Adam had the fastest split of the group helping us shore up points and keeping the competition on their toes. That said, Adam qualified in the 4x800 for State and is conference champion in the 4x800. His leadership in on and off the track speak of his heart and the heart of this team. Adam Vorha.

Next, Chris Habib. To fully appreciate Chris' accomplishments, you have to understand somehow grasp the distance of half a mile. Then, you have to picture order of events at a meet. The first event, Chris runs a half mile--all out. At exactly the middle of the meet (about 60 minutes later), he's asked to run another half mile--all out. Then, for the final event, he's asked to run a quarter mile--all out. While given less opportunity to run events, he made the most of it by usually helping win all three of these events (4x800, 800, 4x400). He's conference champ in all three, sectional champ in all three, and will be running at State in all three of these events. Chris Habib is a top notch athlete. Chris Habib.

Then, there's Dan Benton. Dan could be running after soccer balls, but after being convinced by someone, he ran down the backs of other sprinters. If you've ever seen him run, you'll notice in a 100, he's faster at the end that at the beginning. He's improved that tremendously through this season. He broke 4 indoor records, came in 5th at the Indoor Classic meet, went on to win Conference in his 4 events, take home a Sectional Championship in 3 events, but qualifying in 4 events for the IHSA State Meet for the second year in a row. His speed is rivaled only by his class, friendship, and quiet leadership. Dan Benton.

Finally, Fadi Bakhos. Fadi started off as a hurdler, then a distance runner, and then a sprinter. This year, he just about did it all. Fadi ended up dropping his hurdle events passing the torch on to younger runners while taking on the task of the 4x800, 4x100, 1600, and 4x400. Now if you're familiar with Track at all, you would probably stop us here to comment that this meant that Fadi was running two events, the 4x800 and the 4x100 back to back. That is, Fadi's a distance AND a sprinter? Our answer would be, "darn right he is; and a darn good one in fact!" And Fadi was amazing. At Chicago Christian, the coaches noted his amazing diversity and honored him with Male Athlete of the Meet. He went on to win Conference in all 4 events. He then won two Sectional Championships, and qualified on all 4 of his events, second to accomplish this to Dan Benton.

Together, Chris, Dan, and Fadi scored 91 first places this year. Their leadership on the Track as point scorers, along with their infectious passion for Track, drawing the best out of the team, earned them a each a share of this year's MVP for Boys Track.

For these men, there is still one more weekend to battle. I congratulate them on a great year, a great run (so far), and personally say that I can't wait to see what we do at State this weekend.

Thank you.

The Bad News; The Good News

2007-05-22T08:10:00.000-05:00

So the plumber came over last night around 6p while I was at the Spring Sports Night. My wife and dad were over at the house to see what was up. It turns out that there was a lot of blame thrown around that needed to be redirected.

While the plumber rodded out the line between our inside drain (in our utility room) out to the main drainage pipe (leading out to the street), he said that this wasn't the main problem. The cause of the clog was not stuff from inside the house, per se. There was a break in the terracotta piping that sits 8 feet below my driveway. Apparently, the plumber (who also does real estate) has seen this kind of stuff before. He's convinced that the previous owners knew about the problem, but didn't disclose it. It's apparent to him that they simply covered up the fact that the house floods regularly. Furthermore, there are clues in the house itself that show the previous owners inept handling of the situation (over-caulking the toilet; covering up the auxiliary drainage in the utility room). Ultimately, this is a big job including digging a hole in the driveway to access the pipe and to replace some of the terracotta with PVC. However, all that said, the plumber (probably talking from his real estate side) suggested that we pursue the previous owners for repayment for this work because they failed to disclose these "features" of the house.

So, I've been telling people that it's been a rough week. However, I take heart in a couple things. My wife and I could be mad and angry and upset at each other, at ourselves, at the world, and at God. But, I say this to you, my friend, that honestly, God takes care of us. While it's been hard, Cristine still have our lives. We have this little life growing inside Cristine that seems to still be kicking and growing. We have our parents who live on the other side of town who've been taking care of us. Cristine had minimal things in her wallet when she lost it, and I'm almost 100% back from food poisoning. The dogs are taken care for. My sister let us use her bathroom if we needed. We saw our church open a new Christian Life Center. The weather is beautiful. The boys of my Track team won the Sectionals and are taking a ton of guys to Charleston. And honestly, we smile, laugh, and continue to love.

God is so very good to us.

Now, I'm interested to see what's going to happen today since a full week of chaos would end Wednesday morning. But, whatever it is, we're ready for it.

I really am dying

2007-05-18T17:14:00.000-05:00

So on Wednesday night, Cristine and I went to Boston Market because we were looking for some comfort food for dinner. It sounded good to me. I had the 1/2 chicken, creamed spinach, and mashed potatoes--a typical meal for me. Cristine wanted soup and had 3 of her own sides. The meal was okay, but nothing mind boggling.

When we got home, my dad came over to take Cristine's blood pressure. That morning, Cristine had a fainting spell. Apparently, it's a common thing with pregnant women, but we're only learning about such things. I also had my blood pressure taken. For the first time in my life, I came out with "high" blood pressure. After Dad left, I started working on the Track video again. But, it wasn't without writing my blog "I'm dying". Video was going fine until around 12m when I started feeling crappy. I went to bed, but I was freezing cold. I couldn't get enough cover with the sheets and blanket. Furthermore, Cristine said that I was burning hot. I was a furnace. Then, periodically through the night, I had to go to the bathroom. Not good--diarrhea. Every few hours, the same thing. I burned though the night.

Thursday morning came, and fortunately, I had already taken a 1/2 day to go to Northwestern with Cristine for our last prenatal doctors appointment before switching to Good Samaritan in Downers Grove. That morning, I called into work again and said that I already felt like crap and I think that taking a full day would be better. We gingerly took our time in Chicago, but my condition really didn't change. When we got home, I napped for a couple more hours and took some Advil. We called my parents (both nurses) for advice. They said to head to the hospital. And by 730p, we were at Good Samaritan in the ER.

They brought me in and started feeding me saline solution by IV. I was really dehydrated. They took a blood sample from me and found that I had a slightly elevated white blood count. From the diarrhea, blood count, and general symptoms, the doctor was guessing that it is probably salmonella poisoning or something similar. Needless to say, it wasn't comforting to know that considering I had just eaten spinach.

I took today off also because my fever had not really subsided yet--I woke up with a fever still. I slept in. I ate crackers. I watched the Cubs-Sox game. And, unfortunately, I'm missing the Boys Sectional Meet. However, what's most frustrating is that not being at 100% means that the Track video may not be what it should be. I know most people won't mind considering what happened. But, it was a bit of pride on my part to always have this gift to give the team. I did what I could.

Anyway, back at Good Sam's ER, my mom stayed with me while my dad took Cristine home. She said a couple times that this was a wake up call for me. I didn't disagree with her. I thought the Wednesday blood pressure thing was enough. However, quite possibly, God didn't think so.

I'm dying

2007-05-16T20:29:00.000-05:00

We're all dying, but that's not the point. I was listening to a radio talk show maybe a couple years ago and the host (rather blunt and abrasive as he was), said a very interesting thing through his ranting.

The 30s are the worst time in life. You think you're dying all the time. Every little thing leads to the thought of dying.

I kind of shrugged it off at the time, but it never left me. I know we're all dying, but as a kid, I didn't think about it much. I was too interested in living. When I became a Christian, I considered it the great privilege to die and finally rest with Jesus in Heaven. But now, while I still have those thoughts (and proper I may add), the thoughts that consume me are more about what would I leave behind if I were to die. Not so much that I wanted to enjoy life further (I know Heaven is far better), but what would my wife do? What would my yet-to-be-born baby do? Who would take care of my family? I want to live for them. It brings to mind traveling to Illinois Wesleyan University for the Illinois Prep Top Times Indoor Classic this year. To keep Coach Wolf company, I sat up in front with him on the floor between the drivers seat and the entrance to the short bus. At some point I realized that if we crashed, I'd be dead for sure. Coach Wolf then said, "I don't want your baby to grow up without a father." Well, neither did I! I took a seat again. Well, with all that said, I want to say that today did not go so well.

I had a headache. I have an elevated pulse. I have high blood pressure. I'm way overweight.

Okay, I know I'm not dead--I'm writing this, aren't I? But, I was floating for a while. Did it take this feeling of dying to wake me up? Seriously, I feel like a blood clot is going to just jam itself in my brain and I'm just going to have a stroke. I know that sounds bad, but my mind is going nuts about this. *sigh*

I'm wrestling with my comfort in the thought of dying and going to Heaven and my fear of leaving my family to fend for itself.

No more French fries (again). Easy on the meat (sorry IHSA Track State fans). More exercise (sorry computer). And walks with the dogs.

There's no glory in jumping 16 feet in practice the other day, beating out our best girl long jumper who I'm twice the age of and twice (or more) the gut of if I'm dying.

Google Me

2007-05-15T03:13:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I'm a dork. I was bored (at 3:15a) waiting for video to compress on my other computer. So, I Googled myself. Interesting. I found two articles from the Daily Illini where I was quoted: [ 1993 | 1994 ] I also found websites at UIUC where they list me as part of various Asian American organizations. It's kinda nice to still have something historical to look back on, not just trusting my own memory to recall where I've come from.

Okay, I'll find something better to do.

What's it Worth?

2007-05-12T22:27:00.000-05:00

On Friday during lunch, I noticed a sign in my neighborhood directing traffic to an estate sale. Interesting enough. I am in the market for a crib and miscellaneous gadgets. So, why not? Friday was a little busy, but we finally got around to going on Saturday. Honestly, there wasn't much there that impressed or piqued my interest. However, some thoughts did cross my mind.

Now, I haven't been around the block too many times, but I think I can gather that probably the owner passed away and there was no one to take care of the "estate," hence the sale. That said, it's a lot different going through that kind of a house than going through a garage sale. I mean, the person's dead. I'm going through a dead person's stuff. And actually, it's ALL of their stuff. From shirts to belts to the bed mattress to lawn chairs. Even the Christmas tree was being sold off. The National Geographic Magazine collection was up for sale. If it could moved off site, it was up for grabs. So that alone is a little eerie, admittedly. It's one thing to go to a person's wake and catch that glimpse of their life. It's completely another to go through their stuff after the fact to scrounge for what's interesting or valuable in my own eyes. Worse yet, the people running it have really little emotional attachment to this stuff. Now, I'm not saying they should--it's probably best that they don't. But this is some personal stuff we're selling here. Imagine the stories those things could potentially tell. If my computer could talk... But that's my point exactly. It just felt so inappropriate to be going through all the stuff of a dead person and debating in my mind whether I through the end table was ugly or not and if it would fit in our living room. Then again, how much of a deal is it really once you're dead since it's pretty well established that you can't take it with you.

Cristine found a cute purse for $5.

Good News

2007-04-24T23:45:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends...

As some of you already know, by God's grace, we are expecting our first child in late August. We just passed the halfway mark and have learned another bit of news we'd like to share with you all...

Lord willing, we will be welcoming a baby boy into our family!

Thank you to those who've already sent well wishes. We appreciate all your support as friends.

Hope all is well with you...

Jeremy, Cristine, and Baby Bautista

Wrestling and Closure

2007-03-05T00:45:00.000-06:00

I was looking back today at my blog and realized that I hadn't actually put up the final version of my Asiantation keynote speech online. I meant to (for documentation), but never did. It's here. Not the best written speech, nor the best circumstances, but my heart nonetheless. It came up a couple times in conversation this weekend while talking with a couple people at UIUC. Some people actually listened and it made some impact on them. For that, I attribute it to God and my wife (who helped me edit a ton out). Kidding aside, after re-reading it, I realized that it's the best starting place to being this blog about the wrestling I have in my heart about who I am today--a far different person than who I was in 1996--and where these Asian American issues fit into my life, my heart, and my faith.

As I read this speech over again, I know that I'm not truly starting from scratch on this issue. I've been wrestling with this for a while. In fact, when I graduated from UIUC, I was so burned out from APA stuff (programming, politics, drama, in-fighting, etc.) that I pretty much blocked it out of my mind. I started working for Asian American AIDS Foundation and tried to start up with Pintig. Neither worked out for me. I think I just didn't have anything left to give after giving so much already and leaving college with, well, a diploma and a pat on the back. No Asian American Cultural Center. No Asian American Studies Program. Still, there was a Chief Illiniwek. And, there was of course the knowledge that LAS wanted me out that semester "or else." So long to UIUC too. I really didn't have much love for UIUC. I couldn't cheer for sports on TV. I ignored alumni emails and requests. And, I lost all interest in the University at that point. I started working for my old school district (Westmont CUSD 201), so I didn't need a school affiliation--I was a Westmont Alumnus. This was the lowest part of my post-graduate time.

It was Easter 1998 when I went to my sister's church to witness her baptism. It was at that point where my life was saved and redeemed by Jesus Christ. I became a Christian on Monday and my life was reborn then. Everything (and I really mean EVERYTHING) started off from scratch. I quit smoking on Wednesday that week. I faced my antagonistic parents differently. I stopped swearing and going out for drinks on Thursdays with the Special Education teachers. I had forgotten all about college. And for 4 years, my life revolved around my church. By 2002, I got to the point where I was "working" every service I went to as an audio mixer/sound engineer. In a regular week, that'd be 3 services (Friday night, Saturday leadership, Sunday afternoon). That February 2002, I began to meltdown at church. There are a lot of issues here that are related to church life far separate from being a faithful Christian, but most are not relevant to my interest in Asian America. However, this is the context in which I visited UIUC in 2002 for the Asian American Awards dinner/ceremony when we roasted Yuki Llewellyn for her retirement.

That night with my friends, we visited the almost-moved-in Asian American Studies house. It was kinda bare with books in stacks and some furniture strewn about. I looked around and felt, not accomplishment, but redemption. I mean, there in those rooms, I began to feel closure on all the pain and heartache and fighting and screaming and frustration and research and planning and plotting and networking and coalition building... It was happening. UIUC had a legitimized Asian American Studies Program. It was at that time that this question began to be asked. Where does this all fit in. Maybe it was God's timing (duh!), but my gradual desire and actual pullout of church activities, allowed me to open my heart back up to seeing why He didn't save me back at college. God had other plans for me. He used me in some manner to be a part of the bigger picture. Just because it doesn't say "Jesus Christ" in bold letters doesn't mean God does not have purpose in it. God taught me much about organization, programming, networking, computer technology, and audio/video skills I would never have had without those specific experiences. And on the flip side, some of the things I did really did play a key role in the creation of the Asian American Cultural House and Studies Program and existing programming and organizations. I mean, we all played a role, but God had it for me to be at UIUC during those years and in those roles. I talked with HoChie this weekend about it and I told him that we are not revolutionaries, yet we were a special group that worked together with common purpose. Take a puzzle piece out of that mix and then what happens in 5 or 10 years? So in seeing this building in 2002, I began to get the closure I so urgently needed. As well, seeing it from a God perspective, I also feel like it was not all in vein. The Apostle Paul once listed his skills and said that they now were going to be redeemed and retooled for the glory of God. That redemption was only beginning for me.

In 2005, I wrote and gave my keynote speech at Asiantation 2005. More importantly, I wrestled the days leading up to that speech through conversations with friends of various backgrounds. In the end, I could see value in celebrating and encouraging Asian Americans in the same struggles I went through as an undergrad. At this point, I may not use the same tactics I would have used 10 years ago, however, I believe that the heart of the issues do not go against my understanding of Christian faith. I pause here briefly to note that while becoming more of a conservative politically as I grow older, I see that this theoretically should immediately disqualify me from being a supporter of Asian American or ethnic studies entirely. I find this an oversimplification and problematic. The way I look at it can be illustrated best by considering the political makeup of the State of Illinois. This is a blue state, period. However, are we free from corruption? Despotism? In-fighting? I'd answer no, no, and no. The worst part is that the Republicans can't even put up a good enough organization in the state to give legitimate opposition. Political parties mean nothing in Illinois. And in many ways, as political as the Asian American Studies Program and Cultural Center is, it's not and can't be party affiliated. This is an issue of social justice and education. I've come to accept that this is a moral responsibility to have and support. An ultra-conservative or neo-conservative might say that this is the means to the ends of assimilation of ethnic studies into traditional American history and anthropology. A realist might say that this will never happen. I tend to agree with the realist, myself. Most of the book of Romans was about not being discriminatory to the non-Jewish people. The gospel is for all people. Even then, people had to break their biases. Today, racial education and appreciation can come from these centers of education.

So where am I today? Before I left for UIUC, I had one question in my heart. What's the value of this education to the community. In ways, I didn't need a direct answer. I needed to know that they head that question in their hearts as well and were looking earnestly for an answer. To have a Studies Program or Cultural Center without any effect on the community, then what's the point? Kent Ono, the Director of the Asian American Studies Program told me that they've been trying to get an internship program established, but have had trouble up through now. Would you believe that this single statement made the entire weekend for me? Had that statement not been made, I don't think I'd be satisfied to the point I am now. I see the justification on my own end and in my own heart. What I needed to know was that the Studies Program shared that heart. Now, I'm sold. Everything else was support for that alone. Everything else, to me, leads to this goal. That is, spoken negatively: The Asian American Studies Program/Cultural Center is not there to puff up Asian American kids for fun. Spoken positively: The AASP/CC is there to make a real change in our world through those trained and equipped in these programs. That's something I can believe in and put my money down for.

This is the wrestling I went through this weekend. I don't participate in things I don't believe in. I'm too old to waste my time like that. In this case, I'm on board. And more retrospectively, the hopes and dreams I had 10-15 years ago, are finally getting closure. That pain wasn't in vein. It was necessary in the grand scheme of things. Clark Cunningham calls it "a lot of luck." I don't believe in luck, but I do believe that I will not grieve the fact that I was a part of a very special time at UIUC for Asian Americans and that seeing all of it in action brings great joy to me.

Ahh... New York...

2007-02-19T23:44:00.000-06:00

Here's the agenda: The drafty window. The Brooklyn Tabernacle. The surrendered life. The nightmare at TGIF. Another lost afternoon. Lost on the trains in Brooklyn. Going into Macy's. Meeting up with Pui, Eugene, and April. Koreans who aren't Korean. Kalbi, kalbi, kalbi. Being at the Players club. Opting for Ellyn's Stardust Diner. Karaoke singing servers. Our slow Monday morning. Paying our respects at Ground Zero. Catching a cab to LaGuardia. Visiting baggage claim at ATA. And the debacle about our lost suitcase continues. Continuing the trend of lack-luster food in New York at LaGuardia. The "go to hell/rot in hell" fight at the gate. Our decision to NEVER take ATA EVER again. And our early arrival back in Chicago (which is 20 degrees warmer than NYC) to our clean house and 3 dogs.

I certainly can't write all about this today. But I will. I promise (as if anyone even cares).

However, before I log off for the night, I will say this. God sent us to New York for a reason.

Thank God for Pui.
Thank God for Rach.
Thank God for Nicci.
Thank God for Marilyn.
Thank God for Pastor Jim Cymbala.
Thank God for Eugene.
Thank God for April.

Every person effected us in an important way during this trip. God did not intend us to have a vacation with the perfect weather, conditions, food, timing, and circumstances. God brought us to New York to get us on our way here in Chicago.

To those listed above, we are thankful. You have been used by God.

Some Vacation

2007-02-17T23:03:00.000-06:00

Really, vacations are supposed to be easy, kicked back, and relaxing. Although, I know Cristine did not look at this as a vacation (it would have had to have been in a warmer location than New York City), but at least we're not working! So far, it's been... well, interesting.

The short of the story is that we've had a lot of difficulties so far, but by God's good grace, we're still enjoying ourselves here in Manhattan.

The story begins in Chicago. Thursday night, I was up all night cleaning the house so the dogs wouldn't tear things up while we were gone. My dad was scheduled to come over regularly through the weekend, but without anyone home for extended periods of time, we worried about the dogs becoming destructive. So, I was tired that morning, but still wanted to get an early start. However, we opted to go a little later for a number of reasons. Regardless, we did not account for rush hour traffic (duh!) nor security at the Midway. Once there, however, we got our bags through security and got some breakfast. Once at the gate, it turned out that our flight was delayed as it were and we eventually got up and out about 30 minutes after scheduled. I happily slept while Cristine watched the TV without sound. Maybe she slept too. =) Eventually, a little worse for the wear, but we finally landed at LaGuardia at around 3p.

It was at LaGuardia where we began to have issues. First off, it's shack of an airport. It's cramped and small. There's people everywhere. And it's very difficult to find information you're looking for. Eventually, we somehow found our baggage claim area. I decided to sit back towards the end of the track because it was so crowded at the beginning. Why so impatient? I'm on vacation. =) I claimed one bag as Cristine got ground transport information. People picked up their bags and left. Eventually, there were no more bags and no more people and they stopped the conveyor belt. Ummm... Where's my other suitcase? We put in a report to ATA about the lost “mis-handled” baggage. We called later to see if it arrived on a second flight, but it didn’t. I still think someone walked off with it. However at this point, we’re through ever using LaGuardia again; no better than the old Midway airport. We bought a ticket for ground transport by van to our hotel. As it were, we were tired. However, we were not prepared for a 20 minute wait (still stressed about the lost suitcase), another 20 minute wait in the van (waiting for 4 more customers to pack the van tighter) and the impending 120 minute van ride, criss-crossing Manhattan in rush hour traffic. We were so close to our hotel, we could have walked from another person’s stop. Nope. We sat in the van as the second-to-the-last passengers. Let’s just say, we’ll consider Newark in the future. We’ve got friends.

To be continued…

I’m too tired to keep writing, but there’s the hotel, dinner with Pui in Union Square, walking through Times Square, eating pizza next door, shopping for clothes, seeing the Empire State Building, lunch with the Three Chicas, seeing Broadway, and the many comparisons I have between Chicago and New York.

Tomorrow, we head to Brooklyn to visit the Brooklyn Tabernacle for Sunday service.

Officer Down

2007-02-12T20:59:00.000-06:00

Early this morning, I receieved this email through the Chicago Police Department email alert:

On February 12th 2007 at 1:45 AM, a Police Officer was shot to death in the parking area of his building at 2527 W. Harrison. No further information is available. The person(s) responsible for this crime should be considered armed and dangerous. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO APPREHEND. CASH REWARD UP TO $1000. 1-800-535-STOP or 311. [ PDF ] [ Update ]

Ummm... 2527 W. Harrison is about 1 block from my old condo. Ummm... We used to walk our dogs down that street. In fact, Victor got away from us and ran directly in front of that house (dodging traffic along the way). We're kind of in shock by the whole thing. He had a wife. He had just moved there. He was coming home from working his second job. It's all too familiar a story to us. I think the shock is that, it could well have been us.

We moved out of Chicago in August, but it could have happened to us then too. The killer didn't know he was a cop. The killer didn't care where he was. It was a simple as a robbery. Cristine and used to walk our dogs that late at night. We used to come home and park on the street that late without a second thought. We knew the street so well. We knew the people up and down the street. We were always comforted knowing that there were a significant number of police personnel around our area. Sure, they were off-duty, but you know their eyes were always peeled. Who knew that this all meant nothing. We could have been shot. Or worse, one of us would have been killed while the other died a slower, more despicable death--of the soul--trying to get by without the other.

I know we live in Westmont now. But it was like what Michelle Obama said on 60 minutes last night. She was asked if she worried (like Colin Powell's wife) that someone will just come up to Barak and shoot him dead. She said that as a Black man, Barak could be killed going to the gas station. Shoot (no pun intended), the man lived on the South Side of Chicago for years. Michelle Obama said, "we weren't raised that way [to worry]."

Life is short and ends not at your choosing (more often). I could be glad that we moved, or be glad God gave me another day.

I hope and pray for comfort for that officer's family.

Snowball Flashbacks

2007-02-11T22:54:00.000-06:00

I know it's 5 days (or so) before the Operation Snowflake retreat at Westmont, but did you hear about the 8 teenage kids who got into a car driven by a drunk 23 year old girl? Result? 4 dead, rest hurt.

Snowball folks... Remember the Drunk Driving skit we saw? I do. I just saw it flash before my eyes on the news.

P.S. If the Chicago Tribune link doesn't work, try The Sun Times.

Feels like 1,000,000 years ago

2007-02-10T09:53:00.000-06:00

The scene: My basement. The props: Old programs from High School theater shows; notes from University classes; pictures from my years at my previous church. The occasion: An email asking for a memory of my time at the University of Illinois related to the 10th Year Anniversary of the Asian American Studies Program.

I dwelled on thoughts of, what seems like 1,000,000 years ago, and was lost, simply lost, in what happened. It's funny. Not that we weren't serious about what we were doing back then, because that was a huge deal, but I see how the zeal of my youth prompted me to truly go beyond my personal means of today. And, as I look at young people today, I truly see nothing different in terms of their zeal, enthusiasm, activism, and creativity. However, putting philosophy aside, I am still amazed at the turn of events that occurred after my departure. Bear in mind that when I did graduate, I was so disillusioned and burned out. Yet, a few years after I graduated, I returned back to campus for Yuki Llewellyn's retirement "roasting." That was the first time I got to see the original building that housed the Asian American Studies Program. The pride welled up in me. Things we did and talked about and advocated actually meant something. Then, in 2005, I went down again as the keynote speaker for Asiantation on the occasion of the opening of the Asian American Cultural Center. Talk about the fruition of plans borne out of so much frustration and (ironically) hope. In most ways, I'd already put UIUC behind me. I'm not as interested in the topics that so gripped me in the past. They're no less important, but they don't shape my life as they once did. Let me illustrate it like this: I once stated at an interview for an award my Senior year that my goal in life was to see the end of racism. While a nice, idealistic goal, and 100% sincere about the statement at the time, realistically, I don't think racism will ever be 100% defeated. And, in fact, I'm not sure that attacking racism directly is the best way to defeat racism (which we should always be striving for)--but, that's another discussion entirely. The goals are noble and I am not ashamed of (most of) what I did towards those ends. However, when put into the light of 10 years of an Asian American Studies Program and a new Asian American Cultural Center, I'm amazed at the privilege for being a part of such a history, albeit, my very small part.

So there it is, the centerpiece of my college career. Narrow my thoughts and memories into 100 words or less. Seriously. 100 words (I was actually allowed more, but I stuck to 172). However, I feel like it doesn’t even begin to tell the story of my college life. Relationships—I didn’t define years by activity. I used to define them by who I was dating that year. Major—I went through 3 different majors, all with varying directions for my life to go. I was really torn about my future. Then there was my family life. I hated being home. I was truly trying to reach new freedoms in college. I was trying to define myself. I stopped calling Westmont, home. Champaign-Urbana was home. And then there was this life I led as an Asian American leader—whatever that meant. People came to me with questions and my input. I was on the inside of the programming and planning of most of the major Asian American student activities on campus. I had earned respect—respect that has taken many years to see again at my work, but cost so much of my life to earn… and as much as I hated it, I cherished it. There’s stories for everything that happened to me during my years at the University of Illinois. However, I will say this—I don’t regret, nor grieve, nor ever want to give back my experience for anything in the world.

It’s amazing what has happened over the last 10 years since I’ve been gone. I guess looking back the 5 years before that, those were pretty amazing too.

The Day After

2007-02-05T17:18:00.000-06:00

One thing I will say off the bat is that this didn't hurt as much as when the Cubs lost Game 7 to the Marlins in 2003. However, I will say that when one of the students approached me in the hall to ask if I was okay, I realized that I was "recovering from yesterday." I really was bothered by the Bears losing the Super Bowl. I can't say that I'm a die-hard. I've never gone to a game. I don't own anything Bears. Yet, there's still love for the Bears. I think Ozzie Guillen (with other added comment from Sports Talk Radio folks) said it like this: We like the Bulls and Hawks. But we're only so-so on them. If the Cubs or White Sox win, we go nuts, but only half the City. It'll never be a whole City celebration for baseball. We're a split baseball town. And then, there's the Bears. Let's face it, this is a Bears town. This is where the NFL was born. This epitomizes the hard working, grunt type personality that is the defining characteristic of Chicago sports. Everyone loves the Bears here. It bridges gaps between Northside, Southside, rich, and poor. When the Bears win, we truly celebrate as a city. And so as the Bears lost, we mourn (and/or complain) as a city.

I'm a Chicago guy.

So, I felt a little alone yesterday. Cristine and I invited ourselves to my parents house to watch the game on their big TV. We ordered Giordarno's at the request of doing something better than frozen pizza. Hey, this is the Super Bowl! I laughed through the first 15 seconds of the game (Hester's TD run back). Bit my lip most of the game. And then consoled by my wife through the last 10 minutes of the game. My dad (behind me, sitting at the counter) kept saying, "It's lost!" (in Tagalog of course) "Talo!" It was so bad. Why can't anyone else feel the pain? I get my wife not getting it (she still doesn't quite understand the whole Cubs 2003 thing). I guess I get my dad doesn't either (ditto for 2003). So, was I the only Bears fan there? Like, was I the only one getting their heart ripped out of their chest as Rex Grossman fumbled the ball and threw interceptions. Was I the only one that felt the crush of pathetic rain over tens of thousands of fans in the cold rain of Miami as our defense kept giving Payton Manning open looks ALL NIGHT inside and short? Was I the only one there who's life would have been forever changed one way or another by this experience?

Yes. Yes. Yes. And, yes.

Makes a pretty good case to watch the Super Bowl with the guys.

Sigh. Cubs report to training camp in under 9 days.

I'm doomed.

Another Reason to Like Barak

2007-02-01T08:44:00.000-06:00

Just read this great article by Larry Elder.

Townhall.com

Politics suck. Can't we trust an honest person to be a leader in this country? Or, do we really trust the untrustable?

My Past Screams Out

2007-01-29T22:15:00.000-06:00

My baseball card collection: I have a 1971 Topps Lou Pinnela baseball card.
My old notes from student teaching: A birthday card signed by kids who only 10 minutes before giving it, I was yelling at.
My old letters: A post card from the "Girl I Met on A Plane".
My old class handouts: Science handouts from the only class that I got a B in grad school.
My old books: That I less of than the cliff notes to survive high school English.
My old programs: My high school theatrical highlights and low lights and the play I directed.

I found my hair clipper, an old movie projector, old teaching books, shoes, sports trophies, and rollerblades...

I promised myself and my wife that I'll only keep those things I still have a story behind. It's amazing how much my past screams out at me.

Thoughts on Barak Obama

2007-01-28T16:55:00.000-06:00

On Friday, I was listening to the radio and someone had emailed the station about how they weren't ready for a moderate Muslim like Barak Obama to become President. Hmmm... As far as I've read, Barak is a Christian. Now, that's just one email, but the effect of a public mis-informed statement can send shockwaves (intentional and unintentional) through our society. And this is where it bugs me. I can't say that I agree with Barak on all things (i.e. Abortion), however, I have never seen a person of public office so willing to be open and humble about himself and so effective in truly bringing hope to people again. I can't say that I was old enough to remember all the details, but I believe the last person to exude this kind of unity in America was Ronald Regan. However since then, for sure, the partisanship has been completely out of control. We've certainly broken apart at the seams over the last 3 administrations of Bushes and Clintons. And for what? You see great successes juxtaposed with great losses. I know you can't make everyone happy, but the people who hate America are starting to look appealing to those in America. Now, isn't that disgusting?

Which leads me back to Barak. I just read his speech from the Call to Renewal conference. Yeah, he's a Christian. With that put to rest, he also said something about abortion that made me think. He basically said that personally, he opposes it. Who doesn't. He goes on to say:

I have to explain why abortion violates some principle that is accessible to people of all faiths, including those with no faith at all.

On a faith and religious level, I have to disagree with him. However, on the political level, he's absolutely correct. He has a responsibility to be representative of the entire state of Illinois--not just the Christians. Someone else put it like this. On the radio, someone asked the rhetorical question of if there was a compelling non-religious argument against gay marriage. That's a very good challenge. I'm not in favor of it, but at the same time, my arguments are, for the most part, based out of interpretations of the Bible. That's enough for me, but not really compelling enough in the political arena.

Barak said it like this:

After all, the problems of poverty and racism, the uninsured and the unemployed, are not simply technical problems in search of the perfect ten point plan. They are rooted in both societal indifference and individual callousness - in the imperfections of man. Solving these problems will require changes in government policy, but it will also require changes in hearts and a change in minds. I believe in keeping guns out of our inner cities, and that our leaders must say so in the face of the gun manufacturers' lobby - but I also believe that when a gang-banger shoots indiscriminately into a crowd because he feels somebody disrespected him, we've got a moral problem. There's a hole in that young man's heart - a hole that the government alone cannot fix.

In other words, people's attitudes will need to change. Well, frankly, I don't think George W. Bush has been good at that. I also don't think Hillarly Clinton is good at that either. Slick political talk doesn't work on American people anymore. Can't anyone be as compelling in reason as they are compelling to the soul? That's where Bush and Clinton fail in my book and Obama actually still stands a chance.

I'll admit, I'm only beginning the process of learning what's out there in terms of choices. However, if the future of our country depends on its reasoned choices AND its soul, I hope Barak Obama is in the race long enough for me to offer him my support.

Ranting

2007-01-22T16:29:00.000-06:00

Over the last few days, a few topics have hit me in such a way that I need to rant on them. If you're reading this, God bless you, but be forewarned--I'm ranting.

These colors don't run... The world.

I saw this on a bumper sticker while driving the other day. What the hell is that all about?

First off, this is an insulting variation of the original bumper sticker that said "The colors don't run" implying that America doesn't whimper away when someone messes with us. There's patriotism in that. There's sovereignty in there. There's "stick up for us" in there. This is what family is truly built on: loyalty, honor, support, protection. And this, to mock that?

But there's more. Now, I'd be willing to concede that the statement is true, but who would you rather see running the world? The President of Iran? The leader of the PLO? Hugo Chavez? Honestly, if you really think that this world would run all well and good by having everyone sit around a table and talk is ridiculous. Now, you'd think that the smartest people in the world could sit down, be courteous, share each other's concerns, and walk out of some meeting of leaders with something resembling agreement. Ha! I'm not saying it couldn't happen, but even two Americans with competing interests can't guarantee agreement at the end of their talks. Now, the stakes at the domestic level may not be so high--arguing with your parents, fighting your boss, yelling at the mortgage banker--but don't believe for a second that people wouldn't be willing to go fists to cuffs in America over this and lesser causes. People get shot at nightclubs for getting bumped and having a bad attitude about it. And Bush is going to sit with Ahmadinejad? Are we serious? So who runs the world? I'll say this. I believe it's the one with the power. It always has been; it always will be. Until we are no longer the only superpower in the world (whether by our choice or the workings of someone else in the world), we have the biggest voice. We don't run the world, true. But what's the statement to imply? Let's give people who hate America incite the rest of the world while we cede our stand and stake in the world? Basically, should we then act like we don't run the show? Yeah, because as Americans, we like being told what to do... Hmmmm... does 1776 mean anything to anyone anymore?

Why can't Chicago fans get the losing mentality out of our heads?

I have to admit, I seriously thought the Bears were going to go one-and-out. I thought we had a better shot at the Saints, but I know people who bet and predicted against them. I believe many Chicago writers did the same. I held my breath through the first half, and didn't even think that 11 points was enough. The criticism was fierce. Were we (as Chicago fans--not the Bears) want to lose? I don't think anyone would say that. However, we sure acted like we expected to lose. Then take the Cubs. I think about today and the Cubs are big for 2007. But then I think about how my Augusts and Septembers have been since 1980 when I started watching them, and I think about how ordinary losing is. I believe, I believe, I believe. And then, after Game 7 with the Marlins, I walked back to the train, almost in tears. I kind of expected it. What's wrong with Chicago? Even the White Sox this year... They were an excellent team with a record that the Cubs could only dream they had. Yet, without a division or league championship, it was a losing year.

My theory is this: The 1985-86 Bears epitomized Chicago sports. The 1991-93, 96-98 Bulls exuded the same swagger. And that's exactly it. These teams did not just win (ugly or not). These teams did not just get by. Chicago teams that expect to be revered are dominant. These teams are expected to swagger and strut over their opponents. We need to see the shock and awe of their greatness before they deserve to be called a Chicago champion.

I'm not saying that the 2006-07 Bears are the worst 15-4 team ever. They're treated like that though. Why? Because Chicago expects more. Chicago doesn't win. Chicago dominates. Anything less, unfortunately, win or no win, is not enough for us.

P.S. If the Cubs squeak by a World Series title, this whole argument goes out the window.

Black coaches in the Super Bowl

I like what Lovie Smith said about it, "I'm blessed to be in this position." He's thankful, not distracted.

I'm kinda sick of the whole "skin color/sex/religion/etc. is not a big deal, but it is a big deal" It's very obvious that to Lovie Smith, he's not a black coach. He's a coach--and a darn good coach, at that. Is it a big deal that he's African-American? Maybe? But, you know, he's the coach we've been watching for the last few years here in Chicago. He's our coach, no matter how much he hates the media. He's the one out there fielding the questions, the calls, and the criticism. He doesn't get special treatment because he's Black here. And, I think we don't even see him as Black--just as our coach. I'm not saying that its insignificant that Lovie and Tony Dungy is Black. However, its only significance is that there wasn't someone before them. But is that as important as the game? The team? The drama of fighting these teams to get to the Super Bowl alone? Or do we seriously have to come up with "story lines" to create something that we can talk about for two weeks before the actual main event?

Illegal immigrants committing crimes

My father confirmed with me last night that it took 16 years to get approval for his petition for the immigration of my uncle Ray, auntie Lily, and another relative (who's name eludes me). That is, my parents did what was legal, what was proper, and waited 16 years. By now, it's a little late and my relatives opted to stay where they're at.

How dare people cross our borders illegally and expect to be treated as victims and that they are owed something. I understand that maybe other countries are worse and more dangerous. I get that. But try crossing the southern border--of Mexico. Is this a case of not practicing what you preach? Yeah, I guess if I had the option, I'd cross America's southern border instead of Mexico's. I get that the rules for immigration need to be changed. I'm for that. However, before that, I say, "follow the rules!"

Which leads me to the the news article "Illegal Immigrant Charged With Sex Assault Asks to be Deported to Avoid Punishment". What the hell is that all about? You come into this country illegally, commit a crime and then conveniently remind us (the USA) that we didn't want him here in the first place, so he should be sent home? Who do you think you are? Personally, I'm ashamed that we have such low regard for the rules that Elvira Arellano is still in a church hiding. "All this, over a fake Social Security number she’d used to apply for a job." Yes, that's illegal too. Breaking rules hurts. When someone goes to jail, that breaks up a family. That's why we avoid it. This is a country that's held together in order because our expectation is that everyone plays by the rules. No, not everyone follows them. But that's doesn't justify breaking them. I'll concede to changing the rules. But until then, send Elvira home and prosecute that child molester.

Shouting across the divide.

Today, I almost cried for the story I heard on This American Life. I really feel for this family and how much the stereotyping and misinformation hurt them. Muslims are people. Why can't we understand that as an American society. However, I don't think it's been a one-sided screw up. I believe we've all lost sight of the reason we came to America; why America even was created. America, as Dr. Larry Arnn said, is unique because it was founded on this document, the Declaration of Independence that made it clear that we didn't just believe we have these rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but that it came from a higher source. We're not bound because of similarities of the superficial, but of the fundamental. Why can't we begin this conversation about Muslims in America from that perspective, and driven by that perspective rather than becoming defensive or religious or inflammatory or offended? Why can't we start with something in common rather than start with everything being so different?

If you've read this so far, God bless you. However, I do have one question. Does anyone know who I can talk to about this topic? I'm curious to know the answer of this confounding question I have.

Okay, I'm done. If I've offended you, my humblest apologies.

Love the Kids

2007-01-15T18:47:00.000-06:00

So, I was reading this article on CNN and saw some stuff on CNN on TV that bothered me. I'm talking about the recent discovery of the two kidnapped boys in Missouri. Now, I know that you can't rush to judgment about how the older kid didn't even try to escape. On TV, the report is that the guy brainwashed the child. He'd do something like pretend to be talking on the phone with the kidnapped child's parents. He'd hang up and tell the kid that his parents didn't want him anyway and preferred that he was taken care of by this guy. I know that sounds shocking, but the reality is, at 11 years old, a kid could believe that garbage. Unfortunately, there are too many (one case is too many) times when the parents don't love the kids. And I will go out on a limb saying that kids that have harsh parents can even tell when it's a tough love situation if the parents are giving it. However, for a child to even imagine that their parents have forsaken them is tragic--but is well within the current state of affairs in America.

When we have a child of our own, I promise to never, ever allow them the faintest opportunity to believe--even in the slightest--that we don't love them. There's soft love and tough love, and that all counts. However, the opposite of love is not hate or anger or disagreement. The opposite of love is indifference. And I vow to never come close to being indifferent with my child.

The Video Conundrum (and a moral to the story)

2007-01-11T00:08:00.000-06:00

I admit it, I went to Westmont High School. And, I admit that John Soldwedel was my art teacher. And, through those years, while I was in the plays and musicals, Sod was the tech director for the shows. I remember talking to him one time about the videos we made of the shows. I actually still have them in a drawer in my basement. I know that I feel this now, and may have said to him then that I somehow forgot what it was like to be in my Freshman year show, Grease. That is, I had watched the video so often, that my memories of actually doing the show were replaced by the grainy VHS tape recording of the show. And then he said something that I will never forget (and I'll paraphrase, but you'll get the point):

These videos, pictures, and recordings are only a poor reminder of the
actual memories of the actual events that took place.

That is, nothing should ever take away the actual memories of the show. And to only remember it through photographs misses the point entirely. We experienced it for real. I really did do that dance. I really did play that guitar. I really did dress up like a dork. It didn't just happen on TV. I really did have the awkward moment as a Freshman with four Seniors who thought that it was funny that I didn't understand why some of the original words from "Greased Lightening" were changed (look up the original lyrics, and you'll understand). "Let me explain about the birds and the bees," one guy pulled me aside saying. I still didn't get it. That's not on video. But that's my experience.

I went to Washington DC for the first time in 1995. I remember sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, looking out over the reflecting pool towards the Washington Monument. There was a little kid standing at a step lower than me just looking out. He was there for a while. There was this cool picture in my mind. Amidst these huge memorials and grandiose structures representing blood, sweat, tears, arguments, compromise, and ultimately our great Nation, was this child who represented the hope for that same Nation. Okay, I admit, I took a picture. But, I only reluctantly did after taking out a sketchpad and drawing the scene out. I had it in my mind to stop recording my life on film and to start etching my memories in my mind.

Today, so much of my life is on film. I've even caught myself over the last 5-6 years "hiding" behind the camera. I used to go to Wal-Mart once every two weeks with 6-7 rolls of film. I didn't even bother writing my name on the envelopes. I just used return stickers I got in the mail. The teller knew me by first name. Then, more recently, I've done videos for FABC, Track, and Operation Snowball and Snowflake. Now, it's not that I wasn't involved, but I certainly separated myself from the action. I've often questioned whether or not I was really there. Because frankly, maybe I wasn't. Maybe I "hid" the whole time. I know that most people wouldn't think so, but it's not hard to hide the hiding of a heart. And while this is not to say that I didn't want to be there--my friends know that I don't involve myself with anything I don't believe in. However, where am I when I'm recording? If I'm honest with myself, I'm watching the whole thing on TV.

I share this here because I want it to be known to all that while I love video, I hate video. I love it because it is one of the modes of communication that God has blessed me with. Like I told a friend today, I will cry watching my own work. Why? (And not to be gross, but) I really love the people I film. I'm a HUGE fan of those I film. I love the success. I love the heart. I love memories. I love those people. And, I cry because it's beautiful to me. God Himself communicates to me through video sometimes, and it's a beautiful thing. Yet, I know that I flirt with danger every time I pick up the camera and turn the viewfinder towards me. I know that I'm putting up a wall between me and these people I care for. I'm separating myself from the real interactions that is real life--the real life I intend to present through my videos.

So here's the conundrum. How I love and hate this thing called video.

I urge you (all 3 of you who've not fallen asleep reading this--including myself) to be a part of your own lives. Don't hide behind the falsehood of "recording" life. In the end, living it to the fullest in the present is better than trying to capture it only to shelve it later. That way you lose it once during the moment, and you lose it again in regret not ever being able to go back to it the same way. Also, don't watch video to replace your own memories. Your memories, your REAL memories, are far too valuable to leave it to tape or video or photography. Remember. Cherish. Live. You can't do that through the lens of a camera nor the screen of a TV or computer because it comes in the flesh, in a hug, in a kiss, in person, in a friend, in a conversation.

It'll be tough enough for me.

Splash Guard

2007-01-09T21:33:00.000-06:00

Every night, there's so much to do. Cook dinner. Dishes. Read. Let the dogs out. Clean the house. Read the mail. Pay the bills. Sit and veg... Eh, we'll get there eventually. However, today, after dinner (gotta love Crock Pot meals!) my singular goal was to give my poodle a bath. He's been smellin' so nasty for the last week, that today, I just couldn't take it.

So, just before I was going to give the boy a bath, I went to use the little boys room myself. And, although it was just a number one, the toilet did not flush. You know, the rush of water from above was not followed by a whirlpool of water down. "Bring out the plunger!" I told Cristine. So, I went at it with the plunger--and nothing. You've got to be kidding me. There's not even anything solid in there, and the plunger wasn't going? Five minutes of that led me to a place I had only planned for, but never wanted to go. "Bring out the big gun!"

Months ago, I ran into previous toilet clog troubles. I had a plunger, but I needed the kind with the accordion at the end. I wanted the heavy duty kind. I needed that Cadillac of plungers. So that landed in my cart at Home Depot. But, before I left the aisle, I saw it: Kleer Drain. Now, if you've never seen this before, think of it as an air gun connected to a plunger. Yeah... geek out! It was around $25, but I had to get it. This could save our lives some day!

So, tonight, I cut this dusty package open and held these little air canisters in my hand. What a joke. There were all these little parts, but I eventually got them all into this jackhammer of a plunger correctly. Then, as I read on, there was a splash guard that you can put over the toliet seat to lessen the... splash. It also said that I should use protective eye wear. I put my glasses on. I taped the splash guard on the toilet. And then... I was ready. All I had to do was put the plunger in and push down on the handle...

POP!

And the water subsided. I was still holding the handle down for a moment, still surveying the damage. The splash guard did catch the... splash. I was still fully dry. And, my glasses were not wet. I rinsed everything out and threw out the splash guard--I guess it was "one use only." Great... How about next time???

I've never used a plunger like that... It was kind of a rush. =)

Old Business

2007-01-08T22:05:00.000-06:00

A New Years celebration is not complete until I meet up with my boys at Jack's Restaurant in Skokie. The format is always the same. We meet to exchange Christmas gifts (a week or so late), we all order breakfast (I always order Country Slab Bacon with Eggs Over-Easy--sometimes twice in one sitting), and we discuss old and new business. That is, we try to recap the previous year and look forward to the next year. This year was no different. It's been 6 or 7 years in the running, and I'm glad and blessed we do.

But in this retrospective mood and mode, I found a part of me yesterday that kind of disturbed me. I've been blogging on this blog on-and-off since 2003 and I've journaled about a lot of different experiences. Yesterday, I read my blogs from May 2005. Wow, I was a bitter man. I felt so frustrated. I felt so alone. I felt so betrayed, taken for granted, left to dry. And, I was so glad to have an end to the tunnel. I was writing about my last year of teaching Jr High School.

I just wanted to say that looking at it 18 months after the fact gave me some interesting perspective. I certainly stil agree with my feelings of that time. It was one of the lowest feelings I've ever felt. However, at the same time, I felt so free from that stress. I could even see the same people now that frustrated me then, and be totally done with the anger. So much has changed. Are the problems still there? Maybe, but I don't even care. My job has limits. I have boundaries. And, I have support that I could not even imagine then.

Today, 18 months after the fact, I'm glad I went through it. I'm a more mature person for it. And, I know that I'll survive even the worst situations if I survived those years, especially those last few months.

Why? Why? Why?

2007-01-07T23:17:00.000-06:00

So, I decided that Blogger, Myspace, Friendster, and YouTube were not enough. Today, I jumped in with two feet into the world of Facebook. Why? Why? Why? They're all so different, yet all have the same appeal to me. Sure, I admit it, while I hate it when people almost beg for comments and attention to their pictures and blog, I kinda long for the attention also. I want to represent myself to more than, well, myself. However, because this is a public arena (even these words that I'm typing right now), I'm past the pure content of material I'm presenting. I'm actually interested in the method, style, and design of what I'm putting up. In other words, and here's my confession, I'm obsessed with making these websites look good.

Why? Why? Why?

I suppose that part of it is the attention (again, see I admit it!), but honestly, it's like this guy from Mike Industries said about it. I love a design challenge. I mean, I feel like this is a great way to learn about CSS. This is an amazing study on the way objects on a website can be integrated and synthesized. I love when I can bring my blog into my Myspace and my YouTube into my blog. Then I can connect them all in Facebook (new folk) and Friendster (old folk). Then, I can see what other people have done, and then I learn off their code. Wow! It's like the old days of learning HTML and Javascript. And all the while, I'm trying to get attention (see, I admitted it again!).

Honestly, though, it's not like I need attention (ha!). I really just want to share the memories (well, at least that's true).

The Ambition of A New Year

2007-01-07T15:45:00.000-06:00

While Cristine and I were visiting various churches in Chicago, we found Chicago Tabernacle and were so amazingly impressed about how spirit-led the worship was. That is, the Spirit of God just moved through that place. The worship leader led from the keyboard and as she noodled along, she sighed and remarked, "so many songs to sing..." Wow. In some ways, I feel like that these days. There's so much that I want to get straight in my life... that God wants to me to get straight in my life, that it's almost like I don't know where to start. I'm sort of in this blissful chaos. The dishes need cleaning, the basement needs organizing, but I want to write. I want to read. I want to study. I want to commit myself to a new life and I want it all to start NOW! However, I really can't. Now, normally, this would stop me dead in my tracks. Is this the ambition of a new year? Or is this really just me finally getting sick of my crappy, mediocre life. I want to live; I mean, really live! I want to get out. I want to be creative. I want to learn. I want to fill in the gaps in my life that seperates me from growing. Yeah, I have to do the dishes and clean up basement. However, I'm so excited that I'm on my way to reading the Bible in one year. I'm exicited that I'm going to actually finish a book longer than 200 pages for enjoyment. I'm enthusiastic about getting our household budget settled. I want to learn about the local laws about our yard.

There's just so much, I almost feel beside myself. This is going to be a great year!

Not Getting The Point

2007-01-03T01:56:00.000-06:00

Now recently, I "discovered" YouTube.com which has been my obsession lately. I've been trying to upload as much of my archive of videos and audio presentations as possible onto the website. If you want to see it, it's at:

youtube.com/coachbau

The thing is, however, that I'm not really doing it to prove anything. The only purpose of it was to share the memories with people. I can handle the fact that these are not the highest of class videos. My style is in development and I've completely taught myself the trade. So, if someone has something to say about my work, I'm open to it.

However, today, I got my first "comment" on one of my videos. In this case, it was a Westmont Track video. The comment was "That guy can't hurdle!" What the hell was that? What kind of comment was that? Does he not get the fact that the video was not about how good or bad the runners were? Westmont Track, make no mistake, is not full of joggers. However, we succeed on the track by succeeding in the heart and mind. We are there to build PEOPLE up, not just make kids run faster. I'm not trying to be over protective or censoring free speech, but I deleted the comment. Who needs that garbage. I'd like to see that guy hurdle and teach me a thing or two about video taping that.

People are just not getting the point.

What Would I Choose?

2007-01-02T15:43:00.000-06:00

I normally journal my thoughts on Bible readings in my other blog, but I think this section deserves to be archived in my regular blog here also. The following text comes from my journaling about Genesis 3 on 1/2/07.

Another thought that I had regarding Gen 3 was something based on obedience and knowing good and evil. Now, as I write this, I realize that I'm not smart enough to know the answer, but I thought it was an interesting dilemma. God said to not eat fruit from this tree. However, after they did, not only did they suffer the consequences, but they actually did know good and evil (Gen 3:22). I won't speculate on whether the cost of this was knowledge was death or that the impending death is punishment for disobedience. However, what is clear is that he knows good and evil. But, they disobeyed. So, the situation begs the question, what would I choose, knowing good and evil or obedience? Or putting it another way, what does God value more? Does God value that I know good and evil or my obedience? Now that's a good question. We've never lived in a world that didn't know that good and evil existed. That is, we've always had those two concepts developed in our history, culture, and lives. Usually we try to pick good rather than evil, and that's okay. At least, it seems okay. However, it's a more fundamental question than doing what's good. Does God ask someone to do what they think/know is good or evil or does God demand obedience to His Word? See, the answer doesn't seem to be one I want to hear. If I was truly honest with myself, I'd want God to trust me with what I know to be good and for me to act accordingly rather than for God to tell me what to do and to do so without question. But, as has been so often been taught to me, discipleship means obedience without question. Questioning opens me up to value judgments on the situation which allows me to get into assessing what is good and what is evil. But that's how I was taught to deal with stuff... at least, not in the Christian world view. This is a hard lesson to understand, grasp, much less follow. However, I don't think this is an insignificant point. Adam lived in world without knowing what was good and what was evil. It just was, there was God, and he just did as he needed directed by God. He was happy and until the fall, all was good. Today's world is not like that.

So now what?

New Year. New Start

2007-01-01T23:47:00.000-06:00

It's New Years Day 2007, and everything is new.

The Bears went from Number One to Number Nothing
My Network Admin had their second child
I want to start reading through the Bible in a year
We're going to track our expenditures on a daily basis (again)
We're going to sign up for a local health club
We're looking forward to a new nephews and neices in the next 3 months
We're new into our house and neighborhood
I'm looking forward to sorting through all my old crap in my basement
We're going to be knocking off all but our car loan this year
I'm actually doing something about my foot problems

In a lot of ways, I know that this is the effect of a "New Year". However, I notice that every New Year is coming faster and faster. I know it's said that the speed limit on your life, but that's no more true than the way I feel today.

What's my reaction to Snowball

2006-11-12T21:14:00.000-06:00

Amazing doesn't describe it. Wonderful doesn't describe it. Shocking doesn't describe it.

When you hear that someone will never drink a beer because of some program you that you happened to be a part of, what does that mean to you? When you hear that people are turning away from drugs after a realization that they either take the way out or live with the consequences, how does that make you feel? When you hear the stories of troubled families and the compassion their peers give, how are you supposed to react?

These are nothing short of lives being saved on our watch.

So what's your reaction now? Mine: awe.

What did I do? I made friends. Talked about important things to us. Listened, cared, and hugged. Encouraged and challenged. However, I did not force anyone to change. No one gave up their God-given free will this weekend.

I changed no one. People changed their own mind.

And as everyone who has tried knows, no one can change another person's mind. And there lies the miracle. Another life is saved just because someone makes up their mind to make the right choice even when everyone else says otherwise.

So to all my Snowball friends and family: Thank you for giving me hope for the future. I pray to God that He keeps you and me from falling. Let's stay strong together so none of us will ever have to fight our battles alone again.

Ecuador: Day 6

2006-07-15T00:20:00.000-05:00

The morning brought us to the hospital. This is the HCJB Vozandes Quito hospital. It is probably the best Christian hospital in the world. They are 76 beds large and serve as the trauma center for north Quito. It is an amazing ministry as God has continued to use this as a vehicle for people to know the love of Jesus. The chaplain had a vision years ago to have one soul saved every day. God has not let this man down. The standards are extremely high for this hospital and do not skimp on anything. They treat HIV/AIDS, rabies, ER, optical, neonatal issues, and many, many others. This is probably the best care people can get. Furthermore, this is not a free hospital. This is an issue of stewardship and unteaching dependence and teaching personal responsibility. On our tour, we saw how God is really expanding the ministry there into physical expansion currently and for the future.

The afternoon started off heading to the Dump ministry. I didn't know what that really meant, even though its been talked about often. First of all, its important to understand what happens at the Dump. When someone throws out their trash, they put it outside their house. Someone is sure to go through it looking for anything valuable from things to resell, recycle, or eat. After that, the trash collectors (similar to those I know of in the States) take the trash, sort out what they want for themselves (in bins above the main trash hold), and dumps the rest of the trash out in the garbage truck. The garbage truck then delivers the leftover trash to the Quito City Dump (now called a Transfer Center). Each truck dumps its trash where it is then sorted out again. The people who sort through this trash call themselves miners. They too collect anything that they want for themselves including food and recyclables to be sold (i.e. plastic bottles, paper, metal, etc.). They get paid pennies to the pound and usually only eat what they find. Interestingly enough as it is, except to say that one must apply for this job. Its not a job that pays, per se. You earn what you get. Also, these are not slouches and lazy people. If given the option of peddling Chiclets and candy on the street versus working hard to make pennies on the pound, Id say these people are very hard working.

However, there are some serious problems. Up until recently, rules did not protect people very well. There were no uniforms, which seems to imply that gloves nor hard hats were not necessary. Also, people brought their children to the dump. They would play as their parents (or parent) would sort through. The youngest ones would be carried by their mothers as she would pick through that trash.

The ministry we worked helped brings food to the people as a good will gesture. There is a now a pastor who overseas a new child daycare center to get the kids out of the dump. (actually, rules have been changed to prohibit children in the dump and to mandate uniforms, a hard hat, and various other things that seem to improve the working conditions). We played with the children also. They were amazingly beautiful and precious. Fortunately, Pastor Jose who runs the ministry at the Dump has met with almost all the families individually to help them see that they can break out of this cycle of being in the Dump. There are some families that are three generations deep of history at the Dump. Our ministry of good will helps him gain credibility and support from the people in the Dump who now look to him for counseling and assistance. A number of people have come to Christ, but it seems to be very hard to break the cycle, peer pressure, and other social stigma attached to their situation.

Dinner was with another missionary family just down the street. Its kinda funny because I really learned a lot about the history of HCJB. I dont think Im really at liberty to tell or comment on all their stories except to say that I see more and more how normal missionaries are and if HCJB has had any success or fame, it is for no other reason than because God has blessed them so. Everyone has their flaws, personality issues, and idiosyncrasies. However, God takes ordinary people and just does amazing things with it to show His glory to all.

Were almost done with our trip. However, I continue to be amazed at the things Ive seen, learned, and experienced so far. Im so glad Im here in Ecuador.

Ecuador: Day 4-5

2006-07-13T00:18:00.000-05:00

Day 4. We hit the road again and ended up at the hospital in Shell. This 30 bed hospital incredibly impressed me. The doctors really see the strangest of cases, yet, God has been able to use that as a strong ministry opportunity. Furthermore, as we toured the grounds, its obvious that they are not simply satisfied with the hospital as a stagnant thing. This is a project that strives to improve in quality and effectiveness.

During lunch, we had one addendum to the story of the Waorani people. It seems that the missionary that we had lunch with, Mairiam, who works with these people now paints a more complex picture of them today. It seems that as these different Indian people groups get more exposure to the outside world, they don't realize that everything that they see is not always good. Theres plenty of vices that can derail them. Unfortunately, many have fallen away from the Lord because of it. God is still working, but it seems to be a great challenge to bring the good news of Jesus, yet help them have discernment about what are things to be avoided in this new world that is coming to their doorsteps. That night, we slept at a beautiful hotel called the Flor de Canela. Its difficult to describe this place without pictures. First off, we had to cross a swinging bridge to get to the front door. Each room was unique. Ours had a double bed built on top of a row boat. We had a private balcony. Other rooms had a waterfall as part of their bathtub. Still another had a loft with extra beds that hung out over the actual space of the second level floor. The grounds were stunning and the rooms were nothing less than paradise in the middle of the jungle. We ate dinner at the restaurant next door to the hotel called El Jardin. They served an amazing fillet minion in a mushroom sauce. What can I say? Amazing.

Cristine and I stayed up and talked about our trip and convictions up through now. We decided to talk to some of the missionaries to get their feedback. Again, HCJB has impressed us so much and is really making us love this country, but also the mission itself. We need to continue to seek Gods wisdom about our next step, but what an amazing ministry this has already proven itself to be. We didnt sleep great, but at least we didn't have to use the mosquito net.

Day 5. This morning was the first time we showed up on time for an appointment. We visited Missionary Aviation Fellowship (MAF) or Alas de Socorro (en Espanol). We had hoped to get up on flights with them that day, but it did not work out. They were too busy. However, we did get to see the planes up close that they use these days. Its an amazing ministry that they can provide in transportation for these people out in the jungle. Again, their history traces back to Nate Saint, the pilot of the missionaries who died over 50 years ago. We even went to see Nate Saints house. In that sense, this was amazingly historic. Apparently, the Saint house (among a number of buildings on this land) is termite infested and will simply fall and be disintegrated. We will probably be among the last groups to see this living, historical location. Rooms that I snapped pictures of were the scene of horror and tragedy over 50 years ago. Today, its temporary storage for work done today. However, its hard to believe that I stood at a place of such historical significance in modern Christian history.

We hit the road again for Banos, a little touristy type town that has a nice restaurant where we ate chicken soup with a ham sandwich. However, this was not the main fare. We got to hear the story of how Ed and Sue Giesbrect came into HCJB. It really was interesting. Cristine and I hope to follow up that conversation with the one of our own. I think well talk on the bus tomorrow, but regardless, Im looking forward to getting personal with them about this issue about being a real part of missions work. Finally, we headed home and not a moment too soon. The ride really sent me for more than a few spins. Ill try to remember to take Advil for my headache BEFORE the bus rides.

That night we made it back in the nick of time to help out with a ministry called Spotlight. This is where nationals come to listen to an English program spoken in 90 words per minute. They are given the text of the program so they can discuss it with volunteers who are native English speakers. Thats where we came in. I spoke to my two men who were pretty good already in speaking. They considered themselves intermediate. I think it really was good to talk to them, meet them, and just have conversation with them. Afterwards, we had more coffee and snacks. Cristine certainly went above and beyond the call as she discussed issues like poverty, education, and the like. I talked about sports and television. I suppose someone had to be shallow.

Ecuador: Day 3

2006-07-11T00:08:00.000-05:00

We started off our day visiting the HCJB compound and heard from various ministries that are based here in Quito. We heard form the German language ministry and the communications students. We took an interesting tour of the compound which piqued my interest in some areas such as the radio production, television production, and IT support staff. The more and more I see and hear about HCJB, the more I see how vast the ministry is. We had a nice lunch back in the Larson Center which paired us up with various missionaries that are here working in Quito. The man I met has been working in the print shop for about 20 years. Even that blessed me because it wasnt like he was some missionary type. He just wanted to serve God by using the talent given him.

After lunch, we got on the bus headed for Ambato. All I knew was that we were heading out towards the jungle. More accurately, we were heading for the edge of the Amazon rainforest with our final destination being Shell (or Shell-Mera). We saw some amazing landscape once we escaped the traffic and fumes of Quito. One of the most amazing sights was Cotopaxi, which is an amazing volcano that is depicted in many paintings. The ride was really long and very uncomfortable, but Cristine and I tried to sleep most of it off as best we could. We did take one stop at a little get-away spot where we had coffee and listened to a band named after the volcano. They used traditional Ecuadorian instruments and played amazing melodies on the pan flute. At one point, they had dueling pan flute melodies. Afterwards, we tried to sleep off the rest of the trip until Ambato where we had dinner. The sea bass was incredible with nuts and Ecuadorian native vegetables. No meal has disappointed us yet. Our rooms view was spectacular as it looked up the slope of a rise. The city lights were like night lights up the side of this mountain. It really was beautiful. That night, we finally saw the documentary called Beyond the Gates of Splendor. This documentary talks about the real story behind the 5 missionaries who were killed at Palm Beach--among them, Nate Saint and Jim Elliot. Much has been made of this martyrdom over the years. Even the movie (that we've failed to see) End of the Spear has recaptured some of the interest in this, probably the most influential mission event to occur in the 20^th Century. It was very difficult to watch for me, but I do praise God that in the end, the Wairani people have a Christian influence within their culture now.

Ecuador: Day 1 and 2

2006-07-10T22:52:00.000-05:00

By the time we arrived in Quito, Ecuador, Cristine and I had already been through the sloppiest travel we've probably ever done. We were a little late getting onto the CTA, but we still made it. When we got on the plane to Atlanta, we were extremely uncomfortable. It was at that point that we weren't sure where our bags were. Were they bound for Miami, like they were supposed to be? A little running around proved that we actually did it correctly (or so we thought). But, we had to go back through security again. We literally did a huge circle around Hartsfield-Atlanta Airport. Our connecting flight to Miami was the next gate after the one we arrived from. On our trip to Miami, we tried to sleep, but again, really uncomfortable. Once there, we took our time getting our luggage, eating an early dinner, and rested. It was already a hard week without rest. We arrived at the gate and we were the last couple that the team was waiting on. *sigh*. Nevertheless, they accepted us in and began the business of getting us on the flight to Quito. I suppose it would have been easier to have checked the bags in Chicago all the way through Quito, but again, one more sloppy hassle we created ourselves.

During the flight to Quito, we sat with an older lady named Joyce. It was just the first of many really nice people we met late that night. And, I really mean late. We sat in the gate 30 minutes late. Then, we sat on the runway for over an hour. Our arrival into Quito was delayed about 2.5 hours. We were wiped out. However, it was nice to get there without hassles with our passports, immigration, and bags. We pulled into the guest house and found it to be far beyond our expectations of comfort. It was a welcomed sight for our tired eyes and bodies.

When we woke up Sunday morning, we ate breakfast and then got ready for church. We sat through a Spanish language service that morning. However, it really reminded me of the old days at FABC. Time simply passed by as we worshipped God. Fortunately, I recognized one of the songs since it plays often at WMBI-AM on Saturdays. Pictures do not do justice to the real worship and passion the people have for the Lord. After church, the team split up. Some of us went to the market while the rest (including Cristine) went back to relax at the guest house.

The market was bustling with vendors selling produce, fish, pork, beef, prepared foods, drinks, CDs, DVDs, scarves, etc. Just about anything you wanted was available. I bought flowers for Cristine as I hoped that it would cheer her and the room up a touch. Our lunch was at a restaurant known and liked for its seafood. There we heard the testimony of one of the missionaries who works in the medical division of HCJB. God really uses people in whatever state of life for His purposes and to His glory. I chatted primarily with the director of HCJB's Latin America region. There are only 5 other peers of his, all connected with their own region. We chatted about radio technology and organization and such. It was really neat and I'm looking forward to learning more from him Monday when he lectures and speaks to us formally.

This was the beginning of a long tour of Quito. It turns out that Quito is a city that was borne out of a narrow valley between two peaks of the Andes Mountains. We're about 9000 or so feet above sea level. The city has grown so much that the population is growing up the sides of the mountain. As a guy from Chicago, elevation fascinates and startles me. We walked around town visiting churches, various squares, and the Presidential palace where it turns out there are amazing stories of the connection between the origins of HCJB, one of our group members, and past presidents of Ecuador. God has truly blessed this place with people in positions of influence at a time when the influence would promote the kingdom of God. During one of our visits to a statue (huge, by any stretch of the imagination), a small group of people gathered at the base, within the tourism desk, as the FIFA World Cup was finishing up. And yes, there were great cheers from Nicki, our 100% Italian girl from New York. Another cultural note was that we didn't realize that when someone gives you toilet paper outside a bathroom, they're expecting something. Cristine and I went back and gave the mother 25 cents. It was the least we could do--not to mention that we were still wearing our name tags! Finally, we also took note of the many stray dogs running around. Ah... we miss our kids.

Upon return to the guest house, we had dinner and I got to chat with Boli, the grandson of the president of Ecuador of years past who opened the door to freedom of religion and missionaries to come to Ecuador. Previously, the country was practically ruled by the Roman Catholic church. The Catholics still have an amazing influence, but the mission work being done by HCJB is met with great interest, enthusiasm, and acknowledgement. In fact, the country has honored HCJB with mailing stamp designs among other ways. It was a great conversation.

I will say this, it's amazing to see the connections that all these things have. Moody Bible Institute, Chicago, HCJB, our own experiences... I really feel like God is putting the context of this whole experience before me early on in the first day or two. After this, we're going to be learning a lot about the ministry, doing some ministry, and just soaking in the Ecuadorian culture and people. I really thank God for putting us here at this time in my life.

A 4th of July Thought

2006-07-04T23:22:00.000-05:00

I saw the Westmont fireworks display tonight at Ty Warner Park. It was actually pretty good. My Mom and Dad came and helped us bring our three dogs to their first fireworks display. A quick report on them: Sofie quivered from the cold and for fright under the blanket. Jake looked away the whole time. Victor wanted to bite the fireworks as they went on, but was intently watching. However, even while taking care of our kids tonight, one thought came to mind.

Some of the fireworks made sounds that sounded like bullets going by, kind of like what you'd hear in a war movie. I thought about that a bit in the context of the new documentary coming out called The War Tapes which is a movie about the war in Iraq filmed by soldiers.

It occurred to me that these guys hear this bullet fire constantly. They also walk around not knowing what's around the corner. Gunfire? IED? RPG? Roadside bomb? A trap? Friend? Foe? And they do this to protect us. Consider that we have not had a war on American soil since the American Civil War. Why is that? Because other countries cannot match what we have militarily. They can "hurt" us, but they will never break us. However, we also not only "react" but are proactive in dealing with our protection by taking the fight to them before they bring the fight to us here at home. People may have their opinions about war, however on this July 4th, I appreciate the men and women of our armed forces that face peril as their job, listening and fearing real gunfire, while we sit in a park and ooh and aah over pretty lights in the sky.

God bless those that protect and preserve our freedom.
God bless the USA.

In the Closet

2006-07-02T08:29:00.000-05:00

I was born this way. I was raised to believe it. And I do. I hung out with people who believed the same as I do. It's so hard to change the fabric of who I truly am.

I'm a Cubs fan.

I was born at St. Mary of Nazareth Hospital which is on the West Side of Chicago, yet north of the Eisenhower Expressway. Well, since there's no West Side teams, I guess I'm a Cubs fan. But even after my parents moved to the suburbs when I was young, my grandfather who lived with us watched Cubs baseball every day. During my elementary school summers, that's all I'd do, watch day baseball with my Lolo. When the school year would start, I'd hope that the game was a late game (3:30p) so I could watch it. I remembering setting up my Topps 1986 set of baseball cards out on the carpet to track the game right there on my floor while WGN broadcast it. I remember Jack Brickhouse, Harry Carry, Ryne Sandburg, Shawn Dunston, Jody Davis, Ron Cey, Leon Durham, Mark Grace, and the whole bunch. And even though through college, I was away, I still felt the connection. When 2003 rolled around, I had really lost track of the players, but I never of my love for the Cubs. The world stopped when those playoff games were on. I walked away from a High Tops and other Wrigleyville bars dejected more than once. I almost cried walking back to the train. I called Cristine on the walk. She only began to understand at that point. The next day, the Tribune had a picture on the front page of a 10 year old boy sitting on the curb crying with his father consoling him. The caption said "I didn't know it was going to hurt so hard." or something like that. It may as well have been me. It was at that point that I too bleed Cubbie blue. Yet, the operative term that day was "bleed."

By 2005, the hopes and dreams of Wood and Prior seemed further and further away with every injury report, surgery, and lack of reporting regarading positives on the rest of the team (with the exception of Derrek Lee, of course). However, there was more going on in town.

See, I live in Chicago now, and I truly believe that there's more to Chicago than the snotty, all-too-important, expensive, and over-played North Side of Chicago. So, albeit, I live on what is considered the West Side, I still have a South Side address. In fact, we looked at condos that were blocks away from IIT and Comisky (US Cellular). I'd made it a minor driving principle to try to get to know the South Side a bit more. Yet, it was 2005 and really, two things stuck out for me on the South Side that year. 1. The huge blackout that happened while I was out at Pancho Pistolas (31st St and Union) and 2. The White Sox won the World Series.

I do not have inherent love for the Sox. As a lifelong Cubs fan, the term "Sox" always came out with the term "Suck". However, I couldn't, in good conscience, admit to that this year. As expected, the Cubs choked. In 2004, the Sox choked also, just during a different month. But in 2005, the Sox didn't choke. In fact, they haven't even shown signs of faltering. Trained as a Cubs fan, the game is over by the time the closer comes in (these days, my expectation is that Ryan Dempster's just going to blow it), so I kind of tune out. However, with the White Sox, every day I look at their scores, they're pulling out last minute (read "clutch") runs to win. What's that all about? You mean, someone in Chicago actually plays major league baseball? It's embarrasing to watch how bad the Cubs are yet deny even the existance of the very dominant Sox in Chicago. Which leads me to my final point.

When Ryne Sandburg was being inducted into the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame on July 31, 2005, I was stunned, frankly. It was lauded as a speech that scolded the showman attitude and play of more recent players and encouraged people to play real baseball. Move a runner from first to second. Respect the game. Do it right. In my own heart, I want to play baseball like it was still Little League with all the fundamentals the my coach Mr. Klimke taught me. It was small-ball baseball. I heard it on WGN Radio one day. I found the text online (a copy can be found within a post at http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1455003/posts ). And you know what, I asked myself this question:

Which team in Chicago honors the words that Ryne Sandburg spoke? The Cubs or the Sox?

I watched all four games of the World Series. Cristine called me from work the day of the parade. I told her to just go. She said, that she's not a baseball fan, nor am I a Sox fan. Yet, I said, GO! Be my representative. The last time there was a ticker-tape parade was in 1986 for the Bears. Just go. This year, Cristine and I went with her sister's family to a Sox-Astros game. We got there early enought to get World Series hats and to see batting practice. I almost caught a homer... while wearing the World Series hat.

I'm a Cubs fan. I'll never not be a Cubs fan. However, since last year, I've also become a "wannabe, in-the-closet" White Sox fan. Is there room for both in my baseball heart? And if there is, how do I come out of the closet?

2006-05-13T13:50:00.000-05:00

Even as I think about the what happens in the government regarding all these scandals (domestic spying, torture, the war, etc.), I realize that there really are two, completely legitimate sides of the story--on everything.

If I'm not doing anything wrong on the phone, what do I care if someone wants to listen
We've never really resolved the actual listening in on phone calls domestically to international locations.

Whatever it takes to get intelligence from these hardened terrorists is legitimate.
Are we giving up the ideals that we are fighting so hard to protect in the way we actually "protect" them?

Everything is legal if they are passing muster by the government.
No one is above the law. Even (and especially) those administering it.

It's so frustrating that the media doesn't really care if the country does better or not. They just want a sensational story to tell. What's equally bad is that our current administration gives the media exactly what they want. We're not really better off either way.