rallies and the christian right

Please let me start this by saying that I am not a Democrat, and that this is not party affiliated or even influenced writing. Actually, this isn't really about most of you. Most of the Americans that I know that voted for Donald Trump did so because of political reasons. I don't agree with many of them, but I think I can go as far as saying that I understand the reasons that you did so. If I don't, you of course are welcome to tell me. My broad range of Facebook friends have given me all of the meme-driven propaganda, misinformed and otherwise, that I can handle. I don't subscribe to those quick jabs. When, for example, I just recently started seeing a bunch of clips from Betsy Devos' interview. I was immediately offended. This is after all my profession, and I am certainly heavily opinionated in this arena, but I didn't quickly shoot out a copied meme/clip of the type that flaps around the social media wing of the internet like flies. I went and listened to the whole three and a half hours of the hearing.  I also went and researched her background and her platform ( I still believe that she's not a good candidate btw). I do have political opinions. They tend to range in and out of both party affiliations. This isn't really about that. I don't agree with Trump. I do believe that he suckered a whole bunch of people in this country by playing on very valid fears ( in the name of industrial towns being driven into poverty) and also some invalid, such as a widespread lack of knowledge surrounding systemic racism (this in the name of a slipping majority who feels the rug being pulled out from under them in  a way that is gaining speed and intensity). Also, and this I can whole heartedly agree with, there is the whole corruption in politics card. I am so on board with this. There is an oligarchy in power that is becoming revealed. I believe it. I think Bernie Sanders, and Donald Trump both played on this. The difference between the two is that Bernie Sanders is legitimately upset by this, and Donald Trump actually is the oligarchy. (My vote was obviously cast for Bernie.) So, instead of trying to carefully walk down the rest of this twisting introduction, lets just sprint: I haven't bought into the rhetoric from either side. I am certainly influenced by it though, as it is impossible not to be, but I try hard to be informed and not bought out by quick reasoning. This is a difficult thing too. Just take a listen to the first two speakers in Devos' hearing for example, that truth is being spun like the wheel of fortune and it is hard to find where it finally stops.  So here is the crux of what I want to write about. Trump being elected for political reasons I kind of understand... My offense is nearly entirely with those Christians that voted him in and did so in the name of Christ. This, I cannot understand. 

Jenny is at the Boston Women March For America today. I am proud of her. She is participating in the very essence of our country, she is speaking out against a government leader that she feels not only does not represent her, but also explicitly attenuates the values that she holds dearest. This is the good aspects of our government in action. I am happy to see her go.

 I see so many people post things on the internet that amount to them just wanting to live in the positive. These come from well meaning people who, in my mind, are passively doing damage to others. To create a life for yourself that is insulated from the negative actions of others is certainly your right, but it isn't compassionate, it isn't done in love, and it is the opposite of living a selfless life. I am actually really drawn to this lifestyle. Let the world rage around me and you can find me in a little cabin with no road attached siting nicely out by a stream that no one knows how to find. Seriously, if you guys know of anywhere like this please let me know. I dream of places like this. But that is not what Christians are called to do. That is the entire opposite of what Jesus did. Lets remember here that he was tortured to death because of His actions. He didn't build an isolated cult and breathe in positivity and out negativity. He had nothing to do with the utopian lifestyle that I dream of. He was a man of sorrows and He did not want happiness. Hard to say that right? He did, however, promote pacifism. That pacifism is not a peaceful life, by any means. Those that sought him for that kind of peace were given answers that rocked them to the core. "Give everything you have to the poor." What? All I was looking for was meaning? Not poverty, not hurt, not the unbalancing of my own life. What about my kids? What about my house? He was not a man of happiness. What he did, was upset

oligarchies. And in truth, that is actually what the Jewish leaders of that day actually wanted, only they wanted desperately to be saved from the tyranny of a conquering foreign force, to finally be saved from a massively powerful and violent oppressor: Rome. They did not want what he offered: For their own strongholds to be scattered, and their own leaders to fall and break. He was not about building countries, about making countries great again, in truth he was about breaking political structures down and building up individual  people from the inside; a massively turbulent process. This he instructed was to be done by giving everything in their possession to help everyone else around them. Seems impossible for a government to run this way right? I totally agree. It would be chaotic, crazy, it might even create violence. Who would lead us? Wouldn't people, other countries, just march in and destroy us? Well, this was early Christianity. In the colosseum Christians were killed for the pre-game show, and this paradox is the real reason that Christianity spread like fire in the late throws of the Roman empire. What would happen if someone in your town was actively giving everything that they had, everything, to everyone else they knew in need. Even people that you knew. Maybe even your family. And they were killed by someone else because of it. You would maybe write them off as crazy right? But what if there were a bunch of them, and you saw the army come in completely mow them down, right in the center of town for everyone to see. Could you continue to support the army? Wouldn't you feel the draw to help them, to help others? This is the fire that consumed Rome. It was unrelenting and the greater the killing got, the bigger the fire grew until it finally became such a force that Rome was forced to bow, at least politically. Constantine, in true political genius, protected the Christians, and thus was born the underlying war between politics and Christianity. A subversion that has continued to this day and is so entrenched in our culture that it is almost impossible to see through.

So Trump. If someone wants to leave their Christianity at the doorstep and vote for political reasons, I totally get that. Actually, I respect it. At least they are agreeing that the two have very little to do with one another. But somehow justifying this man within the confines of Christ's teaching, I just do not understand, and it grates on me like crazy. You, my Christian Trump-voting friends, and I mean that literally if you are reading this, fall into three categories: 1. You have separated out your politics from your Christian world view. 2. You have been duped by a liar. or 3. You have either very little understanding of the basis of your religion or have completely lost sight of it. There is a culture that has been raised in the name of Christianity that is losing power. We call this the Religious Right or sometimes Right Wing Conservatives. This was a massive group of Christians that at one point represented the majority of people in this country. They had standards that were central to the said culture of our country, and they are now quickly losing ground. The ensuing panic is the wave the Trump rode to victory on. Make America Great Again harkens back to when this group held power, were supported financially, and controlled the outward showing morals of our country. Echoes can be heard everywhere. Listen to them bounce off of the empty streets of the midwest industrial towns: "Dear God, why do you allow violence in schools? Dear concerned student, I'm not allowed in school anymore." Heard that one? I just pulled it off of my Facebook wall. Can you hear the desire for an old, now passing, way of life? By the way, just because I just mentioned it, prayer has never been outlawed in school. Any student is absolutely able to both represent and practice their religion in public schools. Christianity is just not forced on students. This, also by the way, is the thing that Jesus fought against, and arguably what got Him killed: publicly enforced religious standards that only ever reach the surface of people and never ask of them to give and change from their heart. Ask a pharisee about public prayer and I bet they will tell you that they enforce it. Jesus said to pray in private, where no one could see you. Mathew 6:5-6.

The Christian Right's ability to back Trump is infuriating. He has used them to gain power for himself by hinting at, and sometimes actually straight out making, the impossible promise that they would be back on top again, and they lapped it up out of desperation.  They outrageously ignored any moral criteria that formed the entire basis of their own righteousness, a righteousness that was obnoxiously lorded over people, judging them as worthy and unworthy of God's own grace. This was the outward show of their own brand of Christianity, the central core of what solidified them as a people. Their abandoning of it was nothing short of straight-forward hypocrisy. Those of you that have been affected by it know it so well: Churches built upon moral ladders that isolated those that most needed their help and gathered the rest together in little private social clubs paid for by their own pride and misguided or false humility. Those church leaders still to this day turn their backs on people on the basis that they refuse to let go of their "sin" and with that same motion turned toward a man that flaunts his as the God-empowered savior of their country. It is the penultimate showing of a fake culture of Christianity that has finally turned up its ugly belly for the world to see... and it is horrendous to take in.

Within what I would see as true Christianity, Trump is typical.  He is corrupt. He is crude, sexually degenerate and aggressive in that corruption, a liar, intensely self-serving, and even dangerous in that pursuit. All of this however does not separate him even a hair's width from Christ who is able to see through all of that into his dark, convoluted, disgusting heart and find beauty. And, we should all be very thankful for that, as it is the same way Christ sees and knows us. Even as I am writing this I am starting to feel the angst that I feel toward Trump slowly drain out. He is like me and I have to come to terms with that if I am honest with myself and with what Christianity really represents. I have to... and it is hard because he embodies a lot of things that I hate, but I have to see in myself those things as well. I have to also see that I embody a lot of the things I hate. That is the knife's edge of Christ... the true two edged sword. The fault lies in all of us and God's grace is spread out evenly like a blanket. It isn't earned or even accepted most of the time, but it is there. That grace is sharp, because it is the undoing of every point of pride. It muffles everyone's right claims to privilege and will completely whittle away the private stores of your wealth and pride. If I am like every one else, why should I let some of them suffer? It can't be ok for me to build myself up at their expense. Making America Great Again might not be about building walls and wealth up in our own country, but in finally tearing down every wall and building up every one else around us. It hurts, because I have worked really hard for what I have, and that hasn't really amounted to much.  But, I think that it is the real way of Christ. Not blaming others, or benefiting from them, but by truly serving them and not myself. I honestly, as I am sitting here right now, want to write it off as impossible so I don't even have to think of it, but literally everything else is hypocrisy. This is the hard and narrow road of Christ, massively difficult not in its exclusivity, but counterintuitively in its acceptance of everyone. It asks for everything, just like He did with the rich young ruler, just like He always does. It is the opposite of what seems safe, and it is what is at the heart of what bothers me about Trumps platform. Because women and gays, Mexicans and illegal Aliens are all me, as important as I am, the intricacies of their lives are as valid as mine, and it is not my role to govern them, it isn't even my role to tell them right from wrong, it is Christ's only calling to help, and by that I mean self-sacrificially, where my only judgement is held for myself, and my only responsibility is to lessen the over-whelming weight of this world on their shoulders... and all of this at my own expense.

It is natural for me to want to wall up, leave all of the negativity on the outside of my own self-created and immaculately managed world, but Christ's eyes are wide open and his face is not turned away from them. Mine shouldn't be either.

hail and harry potter

It's sleeting outside. Both kids are upstairs, praying for a snow day tomorrow. Henry, Nora and I just finished watching episode 2 of A Series of Unfortunate Events on Netflix, a genius Netflix rendition of the story in my opinion. Henry is kind of enthralled that Nora loves it. It is the first dark show that Nora has watched, and Henry, who last week was still reading his way through the Call of Cthulhu, loves that she loves it.

That got him talking with her about books that he loves. One of the more subtle things that define book lovers is their desperate need to share in the experience. Reading and writing are unlike other media in that they are so insulated. Everything happens in your mind, and sometimes the experience is so great that you desperately want to share it. Henry tried for a good ten minutes to get Nora to read the Hunger Games, his absolute favorite series. She, typically female, progressively hardened to it the more he tried to convince her to read it. I explained this phenomenon to him, and he complained that he just wanted to read to Nora. So I told him that maybe he could read something that she wanted to read. (a lifetime of wisdom in that advice)

So as I sit downstairs in the living room hearing the hail bounce off of the windows, he's up there right now, sitting on her bed while she lies under the covers, reading the first Harry Potter to her. I couldn't really imagine a better night.

unicorns

This little unicorn lives at the bottom of the stained glass window at my church.  It symbolizes hope. That's its official symbology, not just my own take on it. It also symbolizes Scotland... but other than making me imagine how cool Scotland might be, I don't really identify with that. The Bible actually speaks about unicorns in Job and a few other places. In Job it speaks of their strength and aloofness. Strict adherers to the unadulterated truth of the Bible don't like to hear that the good ole Unicorn shows up there...oh, and in the super authoritative  KJV too.  But I kind of love that it is in there. I think the word was actually created by the writers of the King James when they didn't know what to call a specific animal that was showing up in the original Hebrew.  It certainly is a thing of myth, but maybe one of the more beautiful mythological creatures we have come up with. J.K. Rowling saw it as a creature of pure goodness in her Harry Potter books. It appears in the Arthurian Legends as something of light and mystery, a trophy for those pure of heart. For me, it speaks to the mystery that I am asked to believe every time I step foot in that church on Sundays, a bridge between the mundane and the spiritual. It is a little symbol of the great step I take to have faith in something hard to believe in: God and his love for us. Grace and its impossibility. That there is hope for humanity beyond our self-destruction, and that death doesn't actually keep us. That there truly is something made of pure goodness, and that that being sees us, understands us, knows and holds us, in spite of us. That is a lot to believe, and in my own life of worry and work, it is no small thing to try to allow for unicorns. 

the natural order

We had a lot of chickens die last night. I found what was left this morning. We had seven chickens now we have two.

I went out to let the girls out this morning and it was super quiet. Rosy, our friendliest chicken, normally pokes her head out and clucks, and she wasn't there. She was like a pet. She wanted to be picked up all the time.  There was no blood, just some feathers in the snow behind the coop. I had to leave for school right away, so I just came in and quickly told Jenny, who quickly teared up. We didn't tell the kids right away. I thought it would be better after the school day was over.

While I was at school Jenny texted me to tell me that she was tracking whatever got them. She was pretty confident it was a fox (through learning how to track with Nora's girl scout troop). I totally agree, it was a fox. It took them out to the ledge behind our house. Jenny found more feathers out by the stone wall.

I was pretty sad at first, but through the day I felt better. When Jen told Henry after school, he was as smart and self-aware as ever. He immediately flushed and went outside. He stormed back in five minutes later and started to say that he was mad, and he wanted to kill something. He stormed around the kitchen then sat next to me. "Dad... I am so angry, but I am not angry at the fox... you know... it was just doing what it needed to."

I told him that I might need to kill that fox if it comes back for the others. He became upset... "It wasn't its fault Dad..." so I told him I would use the pellet gun and make it really uncomfortable for him to come back, but I wouldn't kill it. Fair enough. I totally understand his thinking. Still, I am not going to be a Fox grocery store, and I do love our chickens.

Nora was at a Yoga class at her school. Jenny picked her up and told her on the way home. There was no tears. She dealt with it the way we all did; with balance and understanding. All in all, I am really proud of my kids. There was no drama, no hyping up of the situation. They just took it in, reacted and dealt with it. I think Jenny took it the hardest. She went out looking for any strays. There might still be some that return. Sometimes that happens I guess. She had a special love for Rosy and I know it was hard for her to look for them in the woods.

I am sad when I think of Rosy, but not devastated. It really is the natural order of things. I am going to protect what we have left, build up the back fence to be sturdier and taller this spring, and place a trap cam that I have near the coop. I hate that this happened, but I can deal with this. I guess we can all deal with it.

d + d

Today was kind of awesome. I started a Dungeons and Dragons club in my school and today was the first meeting. I really started this for Henry. It is a great interface with other kids at school, and its something that he really enjoys. Also, he got to invite one of his best friends that goes to another middle school in our district to be a part of the club with him. Pretty awesome. To be honest, I loved playing this when I was younger and I just started playing again with a group of my own close friends this summer. So there is that... but starting a club is a pretty big endeavor. Even picking the time to do it in is crazy. Jenny's schedule is hard. She works alternating days that don't alternate regularly. So, I never really know far in advance if I will have to be home to get Nora off of the bus or not. Clubs usually meet from 3 to 4, but Nora gets out of school at 3:30. So, after a lot of consideration, I chose to make this grand event happen from 4:00 to 5:00 one day a week. This allows me to get Nora and bring her back to school with me if I need to before the club starts. 

And it did start. First let me say that I never interact with sixth graders, and they are like shiny, little, tiny, adorable puppies compared to eighth graders. At 3:40 the vice principal called my room and said that she had a student that needed to come up because he was pacing all over the place and just couldn't wait for my club to start. I had some 9th grade girls that had come back to visit, visiting with me at the time (something that I completely love) and this guy just burst into my room: "Hi! I am here for the Dungeons and Dragons Club!! What can I do to help!" No shame. No fear. I don't think he even noticed the three girls in the room. They laughed and said they would come back later. A few more of these tiny middle schoolers stumbled their way into my class, all smiles and dimples, and I went to make some copies of some character sheets. I didn't know in advance how many students were going to show up. I was hoping for somewhere between 6 and 10. When I came back into my class I had twenty students from all three grades gleefully waiting for me. 

Let me just put a plug in here for starting an extra-curricular club. Students are made to behave a certain way during the school day. It is a pretty strict behavioral norm that is enforced, and I definitely am part of that enforcement. The line between order and anarchy in middle school is a thin one, and once it is broken it is pretty hard to put it back. I am pretty relaxed as a teacher, but I won't tolerate behavior that detracts from learning in my class at all. Extra-curricular clubs are a chance to get to know these students outside of those limitations. They aren't badly behaved, just differently behaved, and it is wonderful to see... jokes and laughing, their guard is let down and it is all just plain good natured fun. I really love it. It keeps the jaded side of the teaching experience in check. Teacher friends, trust me, it is totally worth the extra time put in. 

So, twenty or so faces all looking up at me. Only two had played D&D before, so a pretty inexperienced bunch. But they had heard rumors of the game and wanted to learn. I kid you not, I was handing out character sheets for them to begin to learn how to fill in and I heard from somewhere over my left shoulder, "Oh my god... character sheets. I have dreamed of this day!" No sarcasm, just sixth grade, Christmas-morning-like, unadulterated joy. We only made it through an explanation of class, and race, with a quick caveat about spell casting. They wrote like three things down and rolled some stats, but I rarely have seen a more satisfied group of kids leaving my classroom. There are going to be a few tough things to deal with: There are too many kids in this group for a D&D campaign so I am going to need someone else to DM, or I am going to need to split the group and do one every other week. 5:00 is a long day to be around tons of kids. There is a lot of prep work that goes into putting a group through a module. I get cranky around 4:00 without a snack. But the look on Henry's face when he came home and started pacing around the entire house, smiling ear to ear, was completely worth it. 

sundays

Sundays are pretty great around here. I start out early, wake up and get ready. I wake Henry and Nora and they pop out of bed, and I mean that; I only have to ask once. I know, it sounds impossible. Trust me, it's not like this any other day of the week. There are valid reasons for this act of God... I print out the music sheets for church, get my guitar and whatever else I need to bring that Sunday, and the three of us are off to church. We leave here at around 7:30. Jenny wakes up after we leave because she doesn't have to be there for practice. Cana Community Church is in Worcester, so we go through Holden center and stop at the Bagel Inn, the secret behind the miraculous rising of my children. Nora gets a plain bagel, untoasted, with olive and pimento cream cheese, Henry gets whatever he decides he is into that day, but its always toasted, and I have some sort of bagel with miami spread (my favorite!!)

We get to church an hour and a half before everyone else to practice with the worship team. The team varies all the time depending on who is available. Today it was my friends Jared and Ruben. Jared played bass and Ruben played piano. I play guitar. All three of us are capable singers, so it works out pretty well. We practice for an hour or so and then go down stairs to the chapel to set up for the service. Our church meets at the Greendale People's Church and we use their little chapel (they have two). They use it right before us for their smaller communion service and they don't want all of our mics and other things in the way. So we set up and tear down every Sunday. Our church is actually pretty spectacular. David Gentleman is our pastor and is both smart and kind. I could go into why I love my church, but it would take a while, so maybe I will wait to give that its own entry later on.

We get home around lunch time. We eat and hang out here together until supper. The kids only have one hour of screen time, so they burn through that pretty quick. We are left with hanging out with each other until supper.

 We always eat supper together at the big table in our kitchen, and on Sundays we try to have something more substantial. Tonight was a roast chicken with stuffing (rice pilaf for Nora because she hates stuffing... Who hates stuffing?!?!) We pretty much make everything from scratch. I actually love he way we eat. We buy good food and cook it well. Both Jenny and I are capable cooks. I sometimes wonder if Henry and Nora will continue this with their own families. I hope they do, but it is hard. It takes a lot of time to cook everything from scratch, and those pre-made meals are so easy to throw in the oven/microwave.

After supper Henry goes to Boy Scouts until 8:30. Then the kids have half an hour of reading time and they are off to bed. The picture above is of Henry and Nora watching the old Parent Trap, you know, the Haley Mills one. They loved it!! I loved it too when I was young. These Sundays are like a calm eye of the storm, a purposeful break in the midst of an over-busy week. It is time to settle in and prepare for all the work that comes the next day. They are something that I protect. I rarely allow them to have friends over on Sundays, and I try not to complicate the day in anyway. It is now 8:22. Time to go get Henry from Scouts. Nora is sitting right next to me watching me type this. Chaucer is lying on the rug in front of us and we just finished watching Oh Brother Where Art Thou. Eight minutes until reading and sleep.

caught up in circles

Sometimes it is really nice around here. Henry and Nora have somehow worked it out today. They literally came downstairs ten minutes ago, Henry with his arm around Nora's shoulders, smiling, happy to be together. This does happen sometimes. Again, I am not sure exactly why or how, but it does, and I love that. So, its kind of quiet, and for like twenty minutes I don't have to allocate half of my brain to managing them. So I have been sitting in this little white ikea chair by this window, learning this song, "Time after Time." Cyndi Lauper was a totally under-respected musician in my opinion. She is one of those pop singers, 80's pop star royalty really, who has depth and talent beyond most of the music that they are pushing out to the public.

There was this line from Lev Grossman's book The Magicians "Most people carry that pain around inside them their whole lives, until they kill the pain by other means, or until it kills them. But you, my friend, you found another way: a way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel, for light and warmth. You have learned to break the world that has tried to break you."  This is what I think of when I think of Cyndi Lauper's music. Actually, this is what I think of when I think of almost any music that I tend to like. I am past the genre thing. I find things that I like in almost any type of music. I have a hard time getting past the cliche's of popular country music, but there are some songs and artists that reach past that into what I would call reality, and I love that. I feel the same way about rap, rock, I guess all of it. Henry and Nora make fun of me for only liking sad music. I call that innocence, although, that is already slipping as the hard surface of the world shows itself to them. Music is comfort to me, and comfort has to be honest or it is just platitudes.   

There is a desperation to Lauper's music. Under all that orange, and lip-gloss there is hurt. I think I could even feel it back in the 80's in the frantic racing of her songs. This one though, just lays it out plain.

            "Sometimes you picture me, I'm walking too far ahead. Your'e calling to me,
              I can't hear what you've said. Then you say, go slow. I fall behind."

Quick, and searching, I find that bit the most powerful part of the song for me. I am sure that this is true for everyone, but I can tell when something like this has something for me, when I need to dig into it and find why it is pulling me toward it. I can't even read it without feeling moved. I know it is reflecting some aspect of my life back at me, and that it's a big one, but I don't really know what specifically yet. I guess that is what meditation is. Learning to listen.

Well, the snow is falling in white plaits outside, my kids are laughing upstairs, I am learning this melody with its reflective, jumping bass note F#... E, F#... E,  and I am listening.

worry-wart

I have a love hate relationship with healthcare. Actually, it is probably just a hate relationship. I stayed home from work today because I couldn't manage to sleep at all last night. My throat kept closing. But that meant that I had to go to the doctor today. Its a good thing too, I have strep-throat. I guess that doesn't get better without medicine.

I do love my doctor. She is smart, down to earth, personable, but unafraid to make big decisions. She is actually pretty awesome. Dr. Nottleson. She is a good one. I just hate seeing her. I have hated doctors / hospitals / anyone in white, for my whole life. I remember when I was really young, my doctor was Dr. Miller in Gardner. His office is a car sales place now. I can still remember his spock-like eyebrows and his genuinely nice demeanor. I would absolutely ball at first mention that I needed to go see him. Actually, I could pretty much hold it together until he took out the dreaded.... tongue-depressor. I would immediately cry and he would smile and laugh... nicely though, and he would call me a "worry-wart" and pat my head. It got to the point where he just gave up using the thing. I just had to open my mouth wide.  I was terrified. I still am pretty terrified if I am to be honest.

I think I have a better grip as to why now though. I have this feeling, it is a deep seeded one too, that my life is just precariously stacked up, and that it could easily be blown over by the first stray breeze. Doctors are the harbinger of that breeze. Plus they are so invasive. I guess this has a bit, though not entirely, to do with that Wolff Parkinson White thing that I had. When that went off, it felt like this massive whir in my chest and then my heart was off to the races. It would go off at up to 300 beats per minute. I always had to try to make it to the hospital when it happened, and most of the time it would drop back to normal before I got there, but sometimes it would still be in arrhythmia and I would have to be admitted to the emergency room. Its funny, I have heard of the nightmares that people have had in ER's, waiting forever and ever to be seen, but that never happened to me. I remember once, this nurse started to tell me to take a seat and I took her hand and put it on my chest. She immediately paled and ran to get a stretcher and a doctor. It never hurt when it happened. My adrenaline would be off the charts, and I would obviously be nervous, but it never hurt at all.

When I would be admitted into the ER, the room would immediately fill with doctors. I mean fill, like doctors literally on tiptoe to see my heart thingy beeping like an audacious blue grass song. I was a total guinea pig. The worst of all of that was the medicine that they would give me to bring me back down,Adenosine... god that stuff. It would literally stop my heart to break the rhythm. It felt exactly like I was inflating, massive pressure all over my body till I thought I would pop, then my heart would start again. Sometimes it would be back to the basic rhythm, other times it wouldn't break and I would have to get another shot. The worst. So... I really don't like the whole doctor thing.

When I get my blood pressure taken now, it is normally super high, and I tell them that I get nervous around doctors. They, I think, underestimate how much I mean that. When they take it at the end of the visit, it is always in the nice and healthy range. Dr. Nottelson knows me well enough now to smirk at my nerves and to look right past them. I like people like that. I have often told Jenny my ultimate way to die would be while hiking somewhere far enough away from a hospital that they couldn't reach me in time. Just let me go out in the woods and stay there. Away from lights and peering doctors, away from all that attention. Let me go out in the quiet and become quiet with it.

and yes... I took a selfie in the exam room while waiting for the doctor.,, probably not an ok thing to  do.

lemon ginger honey

Third day sick. Fevers at night, sore throat and headaches during the day. Ugh. Jenny makes this tea. It is so simple, Lemon peel, Ginger clump, water and honey. It is so good. I am not a naturalist. I don't try to replace medicine with plants. All the same though, I also don't take medicine. I just get through it. Still, right now, I am drinking this tea, and I actually took two NyQuil. I never ever, ever, ever take these. This is mostly because of a previous heart condition that I was born with, Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome. It would make my heart speed up to outrageous speeds at random times and it could kill me. So, two operations later, I don't have that anymore. But I don't like taking anything that speeds up my heart rate. So, yeah, I must be gaining a whole lot of confidence that that is gone to pop a couple of NyQuil.

I am not sure what it is about the whole naturalistic, holistic, medicine thing that drives me away. It seems fringe I guess... unregulated. But I don't trust medicine companies either. I guess maybe I am just fearful. I just want to trust in my own body and that's about it. And Jenny... because she's a nurse, and she's honest.

I actually haven't been sick for a few years now. So, these back to back illnesses are probably past due. I hate being sick. I never call in sick. I just can't. Leaving my classes with a sub just seems like such a cop-out. So, I go in and suffer through it. Like I will tomorrow. Ugh.

I had a dream last night that a student slipped LSD into a meal that I was eating and that was why my head was racing at night. I won't divulge who that student was ... although it is pretty funny. Hopefully sleep finds me better tomorrow.
good night...

my youtube channel

I know myself. Not completely I am sure, but I have come to peace with a couple things at least. I am almost entirely introverted. I revel in being alone. I need it actually, to make sense of things. That alone time is something really lacking in my life right now. Teaching is great, and I truly love seeing my students, but it expends energy in my life, not creates it. By the end of school I am completely wiped out. Being introverted doesn't mean that a person wants to be alone by the way. I do love talking to people, mostly people that I feel comfortable around though. Touchy people, you know, people that touch you when they talk to you; put their hand on your shoulder, hold your arm, hug you... they're actually my favorite. Knowing that they are comfortable enough with me to do that makes me feel comfortable with them, and being comfortable around people is something that is difficult for me. I should actually write one of these posts about what its like to be introverted. This post isn't really about that though. Introversion used to be a problem for me when I fought against it. Now, I just accept it. I know myself. And even then, I do things that even I wouldn't expect. One of these things is performing music. 

I think I took it up at first to hide behind it. But now it's a big part of who I am. There is something really intimate about playing music; knowing a group of people so well that you can anticipate what they are going to do next. Beyond that, and I know that this might be reaching for some of you, but there really is a spiritual element to music, and playing it with others. You are one thing for a while, and that is pretty cool.

So... I have this youtube channel. This, I think, is the most massive anomaly in my life. I know a lot of performers, people that want the limelight. They need their stage time. Youtube seems like a natural outlet for that, and I am sure that for some people that is exactly what it is. It isn't for me. I actually made my first video five years ago to try to find people that wanted to play together with me. It worked too. I covered a Mumford and Sons song. That video is my most popular as far as views go. It has (let me check...) almost 10,000 views now. Crazy... I think I just played it at the right time. It was just as they were becoming really popular. After that, other musicians started trying to contact me. There is this community of musicians there. Its funny, I find the whole thing .... quaint? 

I play music for my church, Cana Community Church in Worcester, and our pastor just messaged me yesterday to try to learn and cover "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. It is a beautiful song. So, I started perusing youtube to see how other people had covered it. There are good ones and not good ones, people who play it as pop and folk, metal, R+B.. In their living rooms, on stage, in their cars, with instruments, without, on and on. They are all just giving it a shot. Just like me. Here... I will post that first Mumford song that I played a while ago. Forgive the video quality, I didn't have much to record it on back then. 

So there I am. Trying to play it right. Seeing what my take on it will be. Here is another girl taking a shot at it in her bedroom. And here is somebody playing it on solo piano. Here are two guys recording it in a studio. Here's a guy on electric with a bunch of effects. We are all working on this song... kind of... together. I have had a ton of people contact me, thanking me for working out the chords, asking me for help learning how to play it, telling me that they want to do it too.  Hell, I even had some girl call me cute! :) The point here is, this is working for me. I like putting myself out there in this way and I never thought I would. 

There is a lesson in there. Pushing past safe boundaries can have rewards that are worth the push. I see my own kids struggling with their own... probably inherited... introversion. Nora wants so desperately to be an extravert, but she has to put on this persona in public that certainly isn't her. Honestly, I think she picked it up from chain watching Disney pre-teen sitcoms. Henry is so shy with people in school that he barely picks up his head, just a slight tilt and a mumbled (getting lower all the time) "Hi.. Hello.." I get this. And thank God, I also get that sometimes it is ok to push past it. That there are things there that might benefit them in ways that they couldn't imagine. Be an actor Henry, it's ok, that's not the real you on stage. Take up choreography Nora, you won't have to speak to a single person with words, just movements. Walk up into the spotlight, grit your teeth, and do something that you wouldn't. Just to see what happens. 

It's actually more difficult for me to post these videos of myself here, for people who aren't trying to perform to look at and draw conclusions about than it is for me to put up there on youtube. All of that though is easier than trying to muddle my way through small talk at a Christmas party with people that don't know me. We all try to reach out in our own way, maybe this is mine. 

So, here is another more recent one. I like this one. I learned it for Jenny, and it says things that I believe are true about the world, and about me. 

                             

planes, trains and insane projects

It was voluntary. It was supposed to be something that kids had to aspire to accomplish. It was supposed to be challenging. And, it pretty much overshadowed two thirds of our vacation.

This is a snowflake airplane. If you want to amuse yourself, or you are an engineer, please... go ahead and look it up. Actually, let me help. Here is the first site that comes up on a google search. It is also the one we used. Please, jump forward past that nice, three sentence intro paragraph and begin to swim around in engineer-speak. The whole thing is written with a counter balance of incomprehensible measurements and terminology, and as an underlying, child-like glee. " Dihedral gore is1/32...maximum camber is 1/4 inch...tip chord, root chord," are we talking music? I know music! I also know Engineer porn when I see it. Henry wanted to bring his grade up. Actually, we told him.... WE told him... that he needed to bring his grade up. So he took on this extension project. Just to bring things into perspective, Henry is a science minded kid. Not this kind of science, but science nonetheless. Also, this teacher might be his favorite teacher of all time. His class is intense and awesome. But man... this project.

Henry needed so much help at every step. Just the language itself was massively daunting in the beginning, so we had to swallow hard and dive in. Then, bringing it from hieroglyphics to actuality...ugh. I tried to keep a good attitude, and about half the time I did. But this was intense! I graduated from UMASS Summa cum laude. I have three degrees. I built both the shed in my back yard and my chicken coop myself, and just from a picture I saw online. I built the entire upstairs of my house, and all of our downstairs shelving, cabinets etc (granted these were with heavy help from my father) but still... from scratch.  I am not a slouch here. Really, I'm not. Whew... and did it fly? Did we get that amazing moment when it all came together? Well... not really. The wings broke off the first throw.

This thing was there, in the back of my head, all vacation. I still enjoyed vacation, its true. But... yeah. There it is. I am mentally exhausted. Henry worked so hard. I tried to keep the onus on him. He bent the paper clips into pigtail rings. He measured and cut the Styrofoam plates out into their perspective parts. But I had to be there, constantly checking, explaining, researching.... for days. Henry worked the entire day today on just the powerpoint explanation. Not kidding here, he started ten minutes after he woke up, had a 1 hour brake at lunch, and worked through his supper. I need a vacation... from my vacation... this probably isn't good.

I know tonight I am going to dream of flying... or more likely... crashing.

out of the silent planet

I have been here before. Years ago I wrote a couple daily reflection blogs like this. I was looking for a recipe that I had used before for meat ravioli (I am still upset at the horrible coups of cheese ravioli on the american ravioli market...) and I remembered that I blogged about it a long time ago. It got me looking through a couple of older blogs that I had written and I was caught up. My kids were so young. The first blog saw Nora as a toddler, and my accounts of her immediately brought me back to her little pudgy drooling self. She was amazing. In one particular post, I listed what she had done that day, both bad and good. She tried to bite Henry, threw a matchbox car at him and gave him a bump above his eye. I had also burst a vertebrae in my neck (unbeknownst to me at the time) building the ceiling in my house and was suffering from an arm that was alternately going numb and aching like crazy. I wrote that Nora spontaneously came up and kissed my hand and walked away saying "Boo boo, boo boo, boo boo. Henry had crazy curly blond hair and was an ever-expanding pit of questions. Reading these old posts, I felt my world expand and contract with the memories over and over again. 

My kids are so much older now. Henry is 12 and just grew taller than Jenny two weeks ago. Nora just turned double digits this week, and routinely does her own make up.... So much has passed. I have changed too. I didn't even have grey hair in those blogs: I look like a baby! My life has gone up hills and tumbled down them again and I am changed. It is time for me to put another year in blog form. For myself really. but I have just enough hubris to think that some of you might want to read along. Its not that my life is particularly interesting. I am not vlogging/blogging my way through Europe with my ultra-attractive girlfriend. (I actually kind of follow one of those on youtube (Lost Leblanc ... If you want to live vicariously through someone else to get yourself through the New England winter, this is the guy) I am not super knowledgable about any one topic. I am not a person of note. I am just going to try to make sense of things publicly for a year. For example, right in between the word "year." and "For" in the previous sentence I looked up over the top of my computer screen and saw Henry eating peanut butter and saltines, watching an episode of the Simpsons on his iPad and mindlessly attempting to ride a lower cabinet door like a swing. My father and I built those cabinets from scratch. I know the time we put into it. Henry only knew that it felt nice to let the hinges carry his weight for a second. His own experience has nearly nothing to do with mine. 

It is all of the little occurrences of life that add up to who we are, and yours really has nothing to do with mine, but maybe, in the sharing of these, we can gain some insight together. Please feel free to comment, I actually love it. Or start a blog of your own! I will follow right along! All of the pictures for this blog will be my own, and taken the day of the post. All of the writing, however mundane or interesting, limited or extensive, will be my own thoughts. 

I have felt a chipping away this year. Like something might be moving around embryonically in my mind (spirit?) for a while now. Maybe I can bring this to the surface a little more. These yearly blogs always start in the dead world of winter. That is why I am choosing this picture to start with. It is the trees right above my chicken coop. It snowed big, thick snow flakes for two hours last night and by morning everything was coated and silent. Silent, like only the winter can bring. It is good to start in this stillness, before all of the beauty and business of the life that spring brings shows up. I am looking forward to the challenge and focus of writing throughout the year, and if I am being honest with myself, I hope you read along.  

Dave