Brrr... the furnace is on the fritz

Today's picture isn't exactly artistic. But, I'm too cold to think about art. The furnace decided to take a break this morning.  The house got down to about 60º on the first floor and a chilly 57º in the basement.  The furnace repair guys are on the way.

Our Florence Nightingale

We were at Epcot wrappping up our last day at Disney. The plan was to hit the few things we had missed during our 1/2 day there on Thursday and to revisit a few highlights (like Space Mission and Test Track). As we were just walking in, I asked the girls and Ty to pose in front of the dome at Epcot. As I was taking their picture, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find a little Disney employee asking if I wanted her to take the picture with me in it. This was one of the very nice things about Disney. Not only the employees volunteered to take pictures with our digital camera, other guests would volunteer as well. So, for this vacation, you’ll actually see some shots with me in them (Ty also took a few). Back to my story, Florence the Disney Employee, after taking the picture asked where we were headed. We said to The Land to check out Soarin’. We had missed Soarin’ (and The Land) on our first pass through and wanted to catch it before dinner. She asked if we had checked out the wait. I was a little taken aback because the park was pretty empty and we hadn’t waited any time for anything on Thursday. She took us a few steps over to the board where the wait times were posted. 45 minutes for Soarin’. We hadn’t waited 45 minutes for anything in the 4 days we had already spent at the parks. She said “Do you want me to take you to the ride with no wait?” My thinking was that she was going to steer us to another attraction that we could get on my more quickly. But, she then said that she was with the Year of Million Dreams team and that she was adopting our family to make our dream of getting on Soarin’ come true.

As Florence led us to the ride, she told us about how long she had worked for Disney and that she was actually a college math teacher who took this as her “fun job”. She alternated between handing out gifts, handing out Dream Passes (a group of six Fast Passes for the most popular attractions, randomly handed out during the day (we had gotten some on Star Wars the day before at MGM)) and handing out this special treat. She led us to The Land, gave us a walking tour on the way there, telling us the story of the handmade inlaid art work done by a guy and his daughter with over 155,000 pieces each (the two walls were identical except for one green stone, he added to commemorate his daughter’s birthday). Florence had been searching for years to find that one stone. As we walked up to Soarin’, I felt like a VIP. Florence walked up to the guy accepting Fast Passes and told him she needed five. He handed her five and we walked through, right past a 45 minute line and up to what Bob Euchre would call (and a line I had been repeating all week “The Front Row!”. Florence asked the girls what each of their favorite Disney characters were and asked if they had gotten into pin trading. They had not.

Kayla was a little nervous about the ride as she is afraid of heights. The ride is a simulated hang gliding experience where you are in a row with about 8 people and are raised up in the air and thrust into a screen that surrounds you on all sides, above and underneath. You really get the true sensation of flying as when you look anywhere in about 180 degrees peripherally and 360 vertically, you see hang gliding scenes taken from the California sky. When you fly over the orange groves, you smell oranges, when you fly over the trees, you smell the forest, etc. It was truly an amazing experience. I comforted Kayla by having her try to get out of the seat before we took off (so she could see it was impossible to fall). While we were flying, she because a little overwhelmed, so I had her look to her left to see the people beside us to get a little perspective and close her eyes when it became overwhelming. She did great. I was so proud of her!

After the ride, Florence gave each of the girls a pin. Donald Duck for Shayna and Minnie Mouse for Kayla. Then, we thanked her and she was off to do her next good deed. As she left I thought of a few things. Was this a life changing experience (aren’t they all)? If I had not stopped the girls and Ty (who were several feet ahead of me) and directed them back to take the picture in that spot, we would not have met Florence. Had we not met Florence, we would not have gotten the opportunity to walk right up onto one of the two most popular attractions at Epcot (unbeknownst to us at the time though). I We would have headed home never having experienced what was an amazing experience for all of us. As a Black man, in a White world, there’s always that little feeling in the back of your mind of how White people really perceive of you. When a 60 year old White lady who can adopt any family she chooses, chooses our family, and not only takes us to the ride, does it with us, talks to us before and afterwards and shows genuine caring and concern for us, it reinforces my faith in people. It was one of those little magical moments at Disney that I’ll always remember.

An Armchair Quarterback Needs The Right Gear

I literally wore out my last office chair. I kept wondering why I'd be sore in the rear area at the end of the day. And, I was having some numbness in my legs. I finally figured out that the chair I had had for the last who knows how many years (I'm guessing at least 7) was just worn out. When I sat in it and thought about it, I could feel the padding was completely gone and it was like I was sitting on a board.

As I was bringing the chair into the house, it occurred to me that I often play Monday Morning Quarterback, blogging about things that happened the day before and how I would have done them differently.

This morning I had breakfast with Scott, where we discussed "church" again. I never thought I would say this about Scott. But, I think Scott's pretty burned out on church and struggling with seeing the purpose of the effort. I'll probably blog more of my thoughts on my other blog continuing the theme I started last week.

p.s.- on a photography note, this is one of the only pictures I've ever taken where the color with the flash was richer than the color without the flash. This is the flash version.

My New iPod Case

I've been riding my bike again and like to listen to my iPod when I do. I was thinking about buying an iPod Shuffle to clip to my shirt because my jumbo-sized 30GB iPod is uncomfortable in my pocket and I can't control it while I'm riding. But... Kayla made this case for me in her sewing class. It's perfect!

Sum, Ergo Deus Est

How'd you like my attempt at Latin? I'll explain it later. I promise. Last Thursday I was at the "She Who Is" meeting on feminist theology (yes, me at a meeting on feminist theology). We were talking about feminine versus masculine images of G-d. It was a very good conversation. It's the first time I've really been able to talk about this with anyone since reading "Is It Okay To Call God Mother?" and being laughed at by Mark and Scott. (you can continue reading after scrolling past the picture)

But, this post really doesn't have much to do with that. In fact, it's not at all about the femininity or masculinity of G-d. It's about doubting the very existence of G-d. It came up during the meeting and prompted a meditation session, which led to this post. I think the existence of God is something we all wrestle with from time to time. I've had doubts on and off all my life. But, usually they're pretty minor and pass fairly quickly. Doubting God's nature. Now, that's another story. I do know some people who are serious doubters though and it's often difficult for me to relate to them. I'm reading a book called "Doubt" right now. It's a history of doubt down through the ages, from the earliest recorded time up until the present. I got it to explore my own doubts and to help me better understand some people I'm pretty close to right now who have serious doubts about the existence of G-d. The author points out that we divide ages into periods of belief, but we often overlook the in between times of doubt. Her focus is on those troughs, those periods in human history where doubt seems to prevail. The book is not my usual read as it deals a lot with philosophy and history; two of my least favorite subjects. I find philosophy confusing (and often pretty silly) and history just plain boring. However, I have made it a spiritual discipline to complete this book (I must confess I have skipped one chapter so far). The book is over 500 pages of small type. But, I'm learning a lot about doubt and doubters. I just finished a section about Descartes who said "Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum". In English, "I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am." Now here's what I'm talking about when I say philosophy can screw you up. This dude sat in a room and thought so long and hard he began to doubt his very existence. I mean, if there's one thing that is self-evident, it's that I exist. He began by doubting all his senses, wondering if he might be in dream state and (I guess) wondering if he might be a character in a dream. Finally, the one thing he could cling to was that since he had thought, he could at least trust that he existed (even if his perception of himself was an illusion). The fascinating part though is that after he finally established something he could firmly believe in (his existence), he set about to prove the existence of G-d. Amazingly, that was simple for him. Basically he said that we have an inner knowing of G-d that G-d has placed in us. We just know G-d exists. People until that time had been trying to prove the existence of G-d through looking outside of themselves, through looking at nature and through logic or philosophy. Descartes flipped the whole thing upside down basically said "Sum, ergo Deus est" (my phrase). "I am, therefore G-d exists." When I first read this I thought "Whoa! This guy couldn't figure out that he existed? Yet, once he finally established he did, he so easily 'proved' the existence of G-d from 'inner knowing'?". This is the idea I want to explore.

There's an old song called "He Lives". Mike Williams brought it up in one of his sermons at the Grace Gathering last week. At least, I assume this is the song he was talking about. Part of the lyrics are:

He lives (He lives), He lives (He lives), Christ Jesus lives today!
He walks with me and talks with me along life's narrow way.
He lives (He lives), He lives (He lives), salvation to impart!
You ask me how I know He lives? He lives within my heart.

Don't tell anybody. But, when I was growing up, I thought that song was a bunch of hooey. I know He lives because He lives within my heart? No, I could know He lives if I could see Him. I could know He lives if I could touch Him. And, later, I might say I know He lives because I can see His handiwork in the world. But, the last way I would know He lives is because He lives within my heart. But, I've slowly come around to this concept that G-d lives within my heart and that is where I can find Her. Once I stopped looking (and listening for G-d) so much outside of myself and started looking and listening inside, my doubts about G-d's existence and (amazingly) Her goodness began to melt away. That and giving up my false, preconceived notions about what I expected G-d to be like (not that I've completely given them up. It's just now I know they're false preconceived notions). J.B. Phillips "Your God Is Too Small" is a great little book I recommend to doubting Thomases. It's now available in PDF format for free. Click on the link above or do a Google search to find it. When I begin to doubt G-d now, I really don't doubt the existence of G-d as much as I doubt my conception of G-d.

It's abundantly clear to me that because I am, G-d exists. Because I am a personal, spiritual, human being, there is something greater than I, a First Cause, at a minimum. There is something inside of me that whispers and sometimes shouts the existence of G-d. Buddhists call this something Buddha Nature (although they don't talk about G-d). Christians might refer to it as the Holy Spirit. New-Agey type Christians (which I might be accused of being) refer to it as Christ Consciousness. But, I believe this spirit is in each and every human being (although it's sometimes so deeply buried by junk it's hard to find even for the person possessing it). Someone asked me yesterday if I believe I have a spirit inside of me or if the very Spirit of G-d is in me. Tough question. I can't honestly say. But, there is something and this something lets me know that G-d does exist. Now, does the big old White man on the throne with the beard and the furrowed brow exist? No. But. Sum, ergo Deus est is a proof of the existence of G-d that works for me.

Grace Gathering 2007

I had a rare opportunity to meet some fellow on-line seekers face-to-face this weekend.  I went over to the booming metropolis of Straughn, IN to meet my blogging buddies of a couple of years, Bruce and Geo.  Unfortunately, Steve couldn't make the gathering.  I also had the opportunity to meet and listen to and meet Mike Williams in person.  The Grace Gathering 2007 was a special time and I want to thank Cliff, Bruce, Geo and Steve for their sacrifice (in more ways than one) in putting it together.

Cliff, Steve, Bruce and George have combined their blogging efforts into Bold Grace now.  The day I attended (Saturday), Mike was speaking on the difference between Redemption and Salvation.  If you think they're one in the same, you owe it to yourself to listen to this talk. BTW, a bit of a spoiler... Redemption is something we all have and that G-d has accomplished (past tense) on His own with no help from man.  Salvation is something we all need (and it's not a one time thing).  Mike spoke from Romans Chapter 10 (and Chapter 5) and did a wonderful job of breaking it down over the  period of about an hour and a half.   Friday, Mike spoke about his discovery that G-d is not angry with us.  The talks from the weekend are available at Bold Grace- here.

These guys took me under their collective wing a couple of years back when I first started exploring universalism (a word they hate and I'll explain that later).  I can't remember how I found them or they found me.  But, they turned me on to Mike Williams who is a gifted preacher and Bible scholar who happens to believe that Jesus' work on the cross is finished and He accomplished the task of saving everyone.  One thing that is interesting about these guys though is they shun any attempt at labeling them.  So, when I mentioned universalism, they kind of bristled a little.  Their impression is that Universalists believe in a temporary "hell" or period of punishment.  That is somewhat true.  Many Universalists do believe in a period of correction (burning away of the dross if you will).  But, not all.  See my post here for what my thoughts on what a Universalist is.  IMO, these guys are Universalists.

 

click on the picture to have the opportunity to see the full set on Flickr.

Anyway, I digress, back to the meeting.  I walked in as they were having a sharing time.  What was funny is I saw Mike Williams sitting in the front row as I walked in and the guy speaking was addressing him.  But, I had this picture in my mind of Mike as an older guy, a little guy (for some reason his voice on the recordings I had heard sounded like a little guy) and kind of conservative looking.  But, Mike is a big, shaved bald guy who was wearing cowboy boots.  He's well-built and an imposing figure.  Kind of like an NFL tight end. 

Mike's speaking voice though is not intimidating at all and his knowledge of the Bible is amazing.  What also comes across in his speaking is his absolute love and reverence for scripture and his total commitment to Jesus.  That is one thing that could not be any clearer when you listen to Mike.  As he was speaking I was reminded of a commenter here a couple of days ago who implied those who believe Jesus will save all are ignoring scripture.  No one could make that accusation of Mike.  Mike also made it very clear both days that he spoke that he believes in Jesus and the Gospel story literally (from the virgin birth through the resurrection and ascension).  Both days he spoke, he took time out from un-teaching the distortion of the gospel most of us have heard all our lives to make a declaration of his faith. It was a very detailed declaration and necessary because if you tell people you don't have to believe Jesus saved you to be saved by Jesus, they automatically think you must be some kind of lunatic or worse, a liberal.  Mike's websites are Gospel Revolution and Gospel Logic.  Many of his talks are archived there.

Something I found fascinating about the weekend is how we have come to the same conclusions via different paths.  I overheard Mike telling some people after his sermon that he feels he does not have a choice in what he believes concerning God.  Mike trusts in scripture, it sounds like 100%. Mike has a very high view of scripture. I heard him say if God did want to condemn people to eternal torment, he's God.  Certainly He could do it.  I guess I agree with that. But, what I don't agree with is that if scripture did clearly say God was going to do such a thing, I still wouldn't believe it.  I'd have to toss out the scriptures.  I believe scripture because I believe it reveals the true heart of God. But, I don't believe scripture because it says I should believe it.  It was a relief for me when I found out that scripture did not say what I had been taught it said all those years, because I was at the point where I was just about to reject scripture and Christianity as nonsensical and pointless.  I could never love the kind of God that was supposedly revealed in scripture (something else Mike and I agree on).  One thing Mike said that really jumped out at me was something to the effect of:

"The day your heart is kinder than your doctrine, rest assured it's not your  heart that is wrong."

I agree with Mike 100% on what he said there.  I don't take scripture as literally as Mike. I don't even attempt to reconcile everything in the Hebrew Scriptures with what we know about G-d today (or think we know anyway).  I believe in progressive revelation.  Paul said we see through a glass darkly. I believe that has always been the case and that the glass is getting a little more clear (even though it's still darkly).  I believe the UCC motto that "God is still speaking..." and I think we're slowly, slowly hearing.  But, what is really cool is that while we may not agree on the mechanics of how we got here, we do agree that God is bigger than Churchianity teaches and that he will (or has) redeem every last one.

George, Cliff, Steve and Bruce have a thing of telling each other how perfect they are.  I guess they are talking about being perfectly righteous because of God's grace.  But, I have to admit it makes me a little uncomfortable.  I'm more in line with Martin Zender's view that we are Flawed By Design.  I'm perfect for what I was designed to be.  But, I still have quite a ways to go to be the person I am capable of being.  However, I think their reminder of their perfection is a far cry better than the condemnation of the traditional teaching that says we are all still just miserable sinners.

Anyway, the Grace Gathering was a very special time.  I am hopeful that as George and Bruce are saying this is just the beginning of a revolution.  I'm certainly ready to do my part to make sure that happens. Where do I sign up?

Peace,
Brian

Vortices, Boxes and Mindfulness

Ty and I had a fight last night (shh- don't tell her I told you). It wasn't a big one. It was mild as arguments go. But, I observed a few things from it that are pretty interesting.

First- some background. Kayla and Shayna had a disagreement earlier in the evening. Normally, Shayna has been sleeping with Kayla. But, last night, Shayna reported something that Kayla did and it embarrassed Kayla. (Everything embarrasses Kayla these days). Kayla, in spite, made Shayna sleep in her own room. At least that's what we assume happened because when we came up to bed, we found them in their own rooms.

Now, here's where it gets interesting. When Kayla exhibits certain behaviors, Ty gets mad at me. This has been going on for years (since Kayla could talk). Certain things that Kayla would say, like making observations about Ty that she found critical or "talking back" to Ty would trigger Ty to attack me blaming Kayla's behavior on me. Not that there is no merit to that. I am a critical person and it's very likely Kayla has picked that trait up from me. But, it would actually turn into an argument between me and Ty when Kayla would say certain things. Last night, the same pattern presented itself. This time Ty came into our room saying "Kayla is so reactive and unforgiving." (OK so far). Then, "I wonder where she gets that from." Uh-oh. Since there are only two of us and I was pretty sure she wasn't accusing herself, I could do the math. To be honest, Kayla is pretty reactive and so am I. That's a fair observation. But, Kayla is not unforgiving at all and neither am I. And, Missy Ty, Kayla's being so easily embarrassed certainly doesn't come from me. But, all of these thoughts I kept to myself. Here's where the vortices and the boxes come in. I decided to step back and not react. The mindfulness practice is beginning to pay off. I felt the emotion rise in me. I felt the violation of my honor and I felt the desire to defend myself as I have so many times in the past. I did not want to go down this vortex into the circular argument I knew we were heading for. After all, what is the point? How do I win this one? No. I decided to let it go. But, Ty had me pegged. She just knew I was going to "react". This is where the box comes in. So often we think we know people so well, we don't even give them the chance to react. We react for them. I consciously chose not to react to her taunting. But, everything I said from that moment on was taken that way. I couldn't escape the box. Now, here's where I made my mistake. I asked Ty why she had gone into Kayla's room and started talking to her. This really had nothing to do with the discussion we were having. But, it was too closely related. I should have said "How about those Reds?" (next time I will). Often when we come to bed, I'll go kiss the girls goodnight first (because I'm usually the first one up). Then, Ty will go in and I hear a conversation. My mistake is that she took this as me accusing her of doing something wrong. That was all it took and we were headed down the rat hole. She told me that Kayla had really been awake when I came in to kiss her goodnight. Possible? Yes. But, she had no way of knowing that. I had kissed Kayla goodnight a good ten minutes earlier and Kayla's door was open. During that time, Ty had yelled up the stairs for me to come down and help her with something. That is possibly (probably) what woke Kayla up. A minor point? Yes. Not worth discussing? Absolutely not. But, guess what? Now we were going to discuss this. I tried to tell her I was merely pointing out that she had no way of knowing whether Kayla had been awake when I entered her room but I was not accusing her of anything (including waking Kayla up). Remember, this is a side-trip from our original argument about how "reactive" I am and my role in passing this trait to Kayla. I was not interested in this detour, so I tried to shut it down. But, the more I tried, the more it was just and example of how reactive I am.

Finally, I realized a couple of things. Mindfulness was not going to save me. She had me in the box, we were on that winding path and no matter what I said, she was hearing something else. Finally, I decided to grab my book and go to bed. Which she took as a sign I was angry and further confirmation of my reactivity to her simple observation. So, what I have learned is that while mindfulness can help me control my behavior or reaction in a certain situation, people's expectations still rule. People will assume they know how I'm going to react and put that on me no matter what I do. So, I've just got to accept that and roll with it.

This morning Ty said she was sorry we fought last night (not that she was sorry for her role in it) and that she didn't sleep well. I told her I was sorry she didn't sleep well (and I am). But, I did not apologize for my role in the argument and I'm not going back there with her again. She is convinced I was angry last night and there is not a thing I can do to convince her otherwise. Part of wisdom is knowing the things you cannot change.

Harry Potter Craze

I hate to admit it. But, I guess we, kind of, succumbed to the Harry Potter hype. Everyone's been talking about Book 7 which was released yesterday. It's been on the news for months. Where was it being printed? Who had a leaked copy? Which characters would die? Amazon had a deal where you could order the book from them and have it arrive the day it was released (or some such nonsense). We were not about to go stand in line to get it for Kayla. But...

Yesterday, we made our pilgrimage to Costco. We were feeling withdrawal symptoms because we had not been in over two weeks (16 days to be exact). I had thought Costco would probably have the book, soon. And we would probably buy it for Kayla, eventually. But, there it was, in the case which said "Do Not Open Until July 21st". Shayna couldn't stand it. She had to buy the book for Kayla. So, we got it for her. And, that is how Kayla got the last Harry Potter book on the day it was released.

Yesterday was a perfect day weather-wise. We're still kind of recovering from our trip last weekend. So, after the Costco trip and cutting the grass, I just relaxed. I sat on the deck and did some reading. It was 80 degrees, low humidity and there was a nice breeze. I took some shots of just how beautiful the sky was. Rarely is it this clear in West Chester. There was work to do, but the weather beckoned me to blow it off and I did. I'm finally reading Martin Zender's "How to Quit Church Without Quitting God". As I do, I am once again just amazed how so many Christians can't see the hypocrisy in the standard Christian "gospel". I was also looking over a brochure about Ohio Wineries, planning a trip for next weekend.

The British Open is this weekend. Tiger's not playing so well. Today's the final round and I haven't seen any of it live. When Tiger's not in contention, my focus just isn't there. I'll watch it today though (DVRd) after church. I have to be there early to help set up (there's just no escaping the work when you attend a nano-church).

OK. It's 7:30. Time for a bike ride. I haven't exercised in almost 2 weeks.



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What I Did On My Summer Vacation- Monticello

This blog entry is a combination of my blog and personal journal. So, it'll be long and maybe not very well organized. I want to capture some thoughts/emotions I'm feeling after a pretty enlightening weekend. Where to begin? I just returned from the Monticello Community Gathering in Charlottesville, VA at Monticello- the home of my great, great, great, great grandfather (hereafter referred to as great⁴ grandfather) - Thomas Jefferson. This was a gathering of the descendants of the Jefferson family, slaves, artisans, anyone connected to Monticello. This entry includes links to pictures of our trip. There are are about 240 pictures in all. The links only go to a few. To view the full collection go here: Monticello Community Gathering Picture Collection. The weekend was something I was not looking forward to for several reasons.

• Glorifying plantation life is similar to glorifying concentration camps. My ancestors were stolen from their homelands, forced into labor, killed and raped to support the plantation system. I really had no interest in listening to people talk about the "good old days" of Thomas Jefferson's Monticello.


• I hate being away from home. Nights in hotels- yuck. I'm practically agoraphobic (not many people know that). I only leave home when I have to.


• It was a 9 hour drive and I'm not much for long drives.


• It cost money and I'm cheap.


• I'm just not into genealogy or history for that matter.


• I'm not much for family reunions.  I'd rather have a party with people I know than meet more and more "cousins" I'll never speak to again.

I went for the girls and for Mom & Dad. Since finding out that our family includes Thomas Jefferson about a decade or so ago, I've been mildly (at best) interested. My first reaction was "Did he leave us any money?" Being a descendant of Thomas Jefferson didn't have any impact on my daily life. So, I really wasn't interested. That changed this weekend as the faceless names on the pieces of paper that people were telling me was my family tree took on flesh and blood and became real to me. This entry is not going to be a rant about how bad the experience was. It was surprisingly pleasant and informative.


Ty and I took the girls down a day early so that I could relax from the drive before the festivities began. We set out for Charlottesville on Thursday. We didn't get out as early as we would have liked because we had some backorders to get out and had to wait for product to arrive in the mail on Thursday. Finally, around 1 pm we got on the road, putting our ETA into Charlottesville after dark. We had an uneventful trip, in spite of some anxiety caused by Google maps' lack of detailed information and the mile markers on I-64 in Virginia changing twice causing us to not know if we had an hour left on our trip or nearly 4 hours, at one point. Note to the state of Virginia: A couple of signs along I-64 with the mileage to Charlottesville would be very nice. Kayla, overhearing all of our conversation began to worry (as Kayla does). Shayna wanted to know why we kept trying to figure things out and didn't just take the word of the Google map or the girl at the hotel's word for it. We pulled into the Sleep Inn around 10 o'clock, checked in and had a good nights' sleep. We shared a room and were a little concerned how much sleep we'd get with the girls there. But, both of them were out like a light when we finally crawled into bed around 1 am.



Friday, we had some spare time so we went to the Omni and checked in early. We then spent some time walking up and down the mall which is a group of shops, restaurants and street vendors that stretches in
front of the Omni. It is a very nice eclectic mix, very inexpensive and the people in Charlottesville were wonderfully friendly. Any meal that we didn't eat with the "gathering" we ate on the mall. Five Guys Hamburgers was great. There was a little noodle shop where we had some very unusual cold noodles (mine came with a spicy sauce and slices of apples). Shayna ate at Christian's Pizzeria which had everything from broccoli to ravioli to avocado toppings. Of course, she had cheese pizza. The rest of the family rolled in Friday (except Brent who had a couple of days from hell- having to drive to Cleveland to visit Sherri's dying father and comfort her mother before heading down to Charlottesville and hitting a deer about 11 o'clock that evening).




Friday evening we had a reception at the University of Virginia on the Pavilion behind the Rotunda. The significance of the location for the reception escaped me until I got there. I had forgotten that Thomas Jefferson (great⁴grandfather) was the founder of the university. The design of the rotunda and the living quarters of the students and teachers is amazing itself. The rotunda is the anchor point at the end with two wings down either side under covered walkway (you see this same architecture at Monticello). The teachers lived above the classrooms and the students in rooms between. That way, the students and teachers were living in close proximity to each other, creating a real sense of community. The reception was in one of the gardens, which was beautiful. We remembered to bring bug spray to Charlottesville for Kayla (high sensitive to mosquito bites). But, we dressed for an indoor reception worried more about air conditioning (and the girls getting cold) than bugs. Once I got two mosquito bites, we hustled Kayla out of there. Miraculously, she had none. She's always the first to be bitten. We had wonderful appetizers (my first experience with parsnips which were marinated, roasted and delicious).  Also of note was some very nice brie (which I normally don't like) and my first taste of goat cheese (pretty good). But, I hate to say it, Charlottesville, you're not much on the wine-making.



At the reception, the Carr family welcomed us. I might get this wrong because I haven't followed this whole thing. But, I think that was pretty significant because I think the Carr family was kind of a roadblock to the black side of the family (the Hemings) being accepted as descendants of Thomas Jefferson. Dabney Carr was Thomas Jefferson's boyhood friend and married Jefferson's sister. After the deaths of Dabney and Jefferson's sister Martha, Jefferson took the Carr children and raised them as his own. Frankly, a week ago I wouldn't have given a hoot about this one way or the other. But, meeting a guy named Dabney Carr and seeing all the descendants of that story brought it to life for me. The Carrs were very welcoming and played a major role in the gathering. Actually, they used the word gathering rather than reunion because this event was about more than just family, it was about the entire Monticello community. Monticello required more than just slaves to run, there were overseers, artisans, skilled laborers, etc. that Jefferson brought in as part of Monticello. And all the descendants of those people were welcome.



As I was snapping photos at the reception, I was overcome with a sense of belonging that I rarely feel.  I'm not into genealogy, I think for several reasons. Ostensibly, it's been because genealogy divides rather than unites. Genealogy, to me, says "I'm part of this clan and you're not.". I've always been more of a brotherhood of man kind of guy. I look at people as just human rather than part of one family or another or one race or another. I go back to the fact that we're all family through Adam (or spiritually through Jesus- if you want to go there). I don't give a damn who your father or great grandfather was, you're still my brother. But, subconsciously, I think another reason I'm not into that stuff has been jealousy. Maybe my reaction was a sour grapes kind of thing. While my friends could say "I'm Scottish", "I'm French", "My mother's family is from Germany and my father's from England", "My ancestors came over on the Mayflower", etc.; I could only say "I'm Black. My ancestors came over in the holds of ships, many of them dying along the way.". Slavery, over 400 years later still has an impact on the psyche of African Americans. We have been denied the sense of history, of roots, of belonging that is so common among white people. While they can go visit the castles of Europe and imagine what it was like for their ancestors to hold court there, we get to go to the Freedom Center or a plantation and imagine our ancestors being raped, beaten and just eking out an existence. Look back at history? You ask. No thanks. Let's just move forward, please- quickly.



But, something was different at the reception, as I looked around, I loved the fact that all these diverse people were acknowledging a common heritage. Since it was an expanded reunion, we were not all related by blood. But, in fact, many of us were related by blood. You could see the transition in our family from white to black and sometimes back again. My family reunions normally have a pretty wide range of shades at them anyway. But, this was pretty wild. At the reunion, it was apparent, that most "African Americans" are not that at all, we're mulattoes, mixed race people. But, we're forced to wear the simplistic label of "Black". The thing that is wrong with that it denies a big part of who most of us "African"-Americans are. Not only were our ancestors stolen from their lands and our genealogies lost to us that way, when our European ancestors mixed races with them, they denied the resulting children of half (or more) of their heritage. Sally Hemings, my great⁴ grandmother, was three-quarters white. Thomas Jefferson's wife was her half-sister. Sally Hemings was described by one of her contemporaries as "mighty near white" (unfortunately, no pictures of her are still around). My great³grandfather, Thomas Woodson was 7/8 white. Yet, for both, being mostly white wasn't enough. They were Black enough to be slaves. When Thomas Woodson moved to Ohio, many of his descendants "passed" and blended into the White community, leaving his later descendants in the dark about their true blood-lines until recently. At the reception, when I saw a group of people who not only accepted, but embraced this heritage, I felt a true sense of belonging. In this group, I was finally neither White nor Black, just a darker skinned cousin. We were all there to celebrate our common heritage and the racial divide was set aside. It simply was not an issue for these three days. That was a glimpse of the way things should be every day! For so long, I've wrestled with whether to simply allow people to classify me as "African American" or not. For the sake of simplicity, I usually do. But, I know my heritage is much richer (and checkered) than just that. When I go o just my "normal" family reunions, I can look around and see the results of the melting pot. But, we have to have things in neat little categories. People want to pin me down as an African-American male Christian. Who has the time to find out that 'm not only a son of slaves, but a son of kings (so to speak)? Not only Christian, but heavily influenced by Buddhism and other traditions? Not simply a Democrat or a Liberal, but someone who decides things one issue at a time?



People used to accuse me of being "afraid to be Black". I'm not afraid to be Black. 'm happy to be who I am. But, I am not what people assume me to be when they hear I am Black. And, I will not pretend to be what I am not to live up to (rather down to) someone else's expectations. I was not raised in the 'hood (ghetto). I do not speak Ebonics. And, all my ancestors were not slaves or Africans. I don't fit into the neat little boxes people want to put me in. It's cramped and dark in there. I want out.


Saturday morning, we had the keynote address and introductions. The Monticello families were listed on a PowerPoint slide and each family had a representative give a brief accounting of how they were related to Monticello. My favorite though was the matriarch of my branch (whom I hadn't met until Friday). Mary Casells Kearney is 85 years old and told a powerful story of wanting to belong and of her heritage being denied her. She was a child when her father sat her and her siblings down with a little brown leather journal. But, from the way she told the story, you could tell in her mind it was like it happened yesterday. Some powerful emotions must have be brought forth for that day to have made such an impression on her. From this book, her father recited her heritage to her- how she was descended not only from slaves but from one of the most influential men in American history (and in world history), Thomas Jefferson. Mary is a light skinned woman, as you can see in the picture. But, as a child, when she looked at the ictures in the book, she said with surprise "Those look like white people in that book." She had been told her whole life she was Black (I'm guessing the word was "colored"). She had no idea about how she got the light skin. It was a story of a proud heritage. Yet, at the end of his recitation, the other shoe fell. He told them to learn their heritage, but not to speak it to anyone. A lump came up in my throat and tears came to my eyes as Mary said she didn't care what historians or scientists said, she knew she was a member of the family. It was obvious Mary did care. She carried that book with pride and she loved the fact that finally, finally, the rest of the family was acknowledging her as a member. Mary received a standing ovation.



Prinny Anderson, who did a lot of the coordination of the event, did an excellent job of kicking things off and sharing her reflections on what was happening.  Prinny has been very active in the effort to bring both sides of the slave legacy together, participating in the Coming to the Table project. When she spoke, it was obvious that this discovery of the "other side" of her family had had an impact on her. When she introduced her "cousin Connye Moore-Richardson", old habits made me (and others)expect a white woman to stand up. But, Connye is a beautiful black lady from Los Angeles, CA. It was another reminder of how deeply race and its divisions has been put into us.



The Mayor of Charlottesville, David Brown, addressed us and welcomed us to Charlottesville. Obviously, Monticello and the University of Virginia are major parts of Charlottesville, both given to the city by our great⁴ grandfather. The mayor gave us a warm welcome. I have to admit, I swelled with pride (just a little). How many family reunions have a mayor address them and talk about the contribution of their family (actually the Monticello community) to their city?


The keynote speaker was Associate Professor of History at University of Alabama, Dr. Josh Rothman. His speech was long (too long for some- especially the children). But, I thought it was fascinating. He could not have delivered the information he had to deliver in any less time. I appreciated his thoroughness and was glad he took his time. I was expecting a dry recitation about life on the plantation (which was wonderful if you were White but sucked if you were Black). But, that's not what he delivered. He talked about the complexities of the White-Black relationship, the codependencies and the fact that it truly was an integrated society (even if both sides were uncomfortable with it). He acknowledged (much to my happiness) the fact that Monticello could not have existed without the forced labor of many men, women and children. He did not whitewash (pun intended) the often swept-under-the-rug part of that life. He talked about the complex relationship between slave owner and master. The masters often talked about benevolence to slaves. Yet, most did not hesitate to use the whip or to break up families or rape women. They wrote lofty words about how all men are created equal, yet they traded men like cattle and treated them worse than they would their dogs. They said Blacks were sub-human, yet reproduced with them. They said Blacks were unskilled and untrainable. Yet, while Monticello started off as a very cosmopolitan place with craftsmen from all over the world imported to make the things Jefferson sought, those craftsmen transferred their skills to these "subhuman, untrainable" Blacks who provided free, skilled labor to produce Jefferson's necessities. Masters would often give slaves the opportunity to earn money to buy things for themselves (sometimes selling these goods back to the masters- Jefferson did this). Occasionally, a slave could even purchase his own freedom. But, were these things done out of paternalistic concern, humanitarianism or because it was good property management? Who knows?



One major point the professor made that I hadn't really thought about before was that the plantation life was an integrated community, not segregated. And, it was a community. Blacks and Whites worked shoulder to shoulder and were intimately (in all meanings of the word) involved with each other. It was after slavery that we tried segregation in this country. But, slavery forced us together.


Thomas Jefferson wanted to be completely self-sufficient. It's ironic that he could only do this on the backs of almost 200 slaves. The plaque at Monticello references only about 110. But,from what I've read elsewhere, the actual number is closer to 200. If Jefferson could make a thing at Monticello, he did. He had wool spun, fabric produced, buttons made, a nailery (where they made nails), they produced their own charcoal, they did their own carpentry, at least one carriage was made there), he grew his own grapes for wine (from grapes imported from Italy). And that's just the tip of the iceberg. However, when I look at plantation life, it's not with a sense of longing for the "good old days" or even admiration for what they accomplished. I see an economic engine that benefited a chosen few. An engine whose fuel was the blood, sweat and tears of men, women and children. Monticello, while fascinating in many ways, was still a plantation. Even while I was admiring Monticello during the tour, I never wanted to forget that and I never will. It's not so hard to achieve financial success when you have a virtually unlimited pool of free labor.



After the professor's speech, Lucia Cinder Stanton, Senior Research Historian at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation (and probably the world's foremost authority on slave life at Monticello) spoke to us. She told us about a "day in the life" of Monticello. I assumed this would be a generic, this is what would happen on a typical day. But,
great⁴ grandfather was a man who I'm guessing would be diagnosed with OCD
today. He kept a journal on every detail of his (business) life. So, when you do a day in the life of Jefferson, you can pick a day like July 14, 1814 and do that day. He began his day by noting the weather making notes like "CAR" (clear after rain) and giving the exact rainfall, down to two
decimal places). He gave us the decimal monetary system and tried to take the nation to decimal measures all around. He spent this particular day riding around the property (up to 5,000 acres back then) noting how things were going. Earlier I said he wanted Monticello to be completely self-sufficient. So there was a lot to check on. He would note how much fabric was produced in the mills (by each worker), how many hours each worker worked, how many nails were produced, when the tomatoes would be ripe (three days from now), etc. There are journals covering decades of exactly everything he bought. Yet, such a detail oriented man died in debt (way in debt!). He was obsessed with living the good life and apparently, he was going to have what he wanted, no matter the cost. He said he detested slavery. Yet, he only freed two slaves during his lifetime, allowed two to "run away" and freed five after his death. We did hear stories of others who freed more slaves (in life and in death- it's easy to give them up when you don't need them anymore). But, I always wonder how a man who could write the words of the Declaration of Independence and father so many children by a "Black" (remember Sally Hemings was 3/4 white) woman could sleep at night knowing his crown-jewel, Monticello, was built and run by enslaving men, women and children. Most of us think of slaves as dark skinned, nappy headed Africans. That would at least distance them from the masters in appearance. But, many slaves looked no different than their masters. Children with the same father and different mothers grew up on the same land but in completely different worlds. There's a report of at least one person remarking how much one of Sally Hemings children (a slave) looked like Thomas Jefferson himself. Thomas Jefferson, while a great thinker, public servant and full of ideals was complex and flawed as we all are. He could only live the lifestyle he chose to live by making the decision to keep slaves. Given the compromises I made every day to provide for myself and my family, I cannot honestly say that I know, to a certainty, I wouldn't do the same thing. But, I don't think I would. ...I hope I wouldn't.



After the speeches, it was time to head up to Monticello. I say "up" because Monticello, which means "little mountain" is scenically located just outside Charlottesville up on a "little mountain". From the right vantage point, Jefferson could look down and see his handiwork, the University of Virginia. We missed the scheduled children's tour because they neglected to tell us that you can only drive up to about half a mile away from the house, then you have to take a bus up. But, I think that turned out OK. We were told the next (available) tour of the house didn't start until 5:10 (and it was about 3 o'clock).  I was amazed at the number of people touring Monticello. So, we decided instead to walk the grounds and see the house later (at the reception where we got exclusive access to rooms not available to the public). I as kind of dreading this. As I said, I see plantations as just several notches above concentration camps. The difference being plantations were set up on a system dependent on the exploitation of an enslaved people and concentration camps were set up for a people's destruction. Plantations could not have existed without forced labor. he South could not have produced its cotton and rice (rice shown to them by Africans) without the labor the stole from Africa. As I strolled the gardens that Jefferson strolled, viewed the beautiful views he looked over and walked into the bedroom where he and Sally Hemings may have conceived children that he denied, I felt conflicted. Ty made the comment that my ancestors had worked
these fields and lived in these 12'x20' slave houses. But, I had to remind her (and myself) that my ancestor also owned these fields, owned my grand⁴ grandmother and penned the Declaration of Independence.


After walking through the gardens, we strolled down to the Jefferson cemetery. That's something I normally would have taken a pass on. But, hearing the stories orally, from real flesh and blood people brought these names to life for me.  Not only was my grand⁴ grandfather buried there. But, the relatives of many of the people I had been meeting over the last few days. We joked about being buried there in the family plot, knowing that ain't gonna happen. I later found out that a certain part of the family blocked having the sunrise service in the graveyard the following morning. And there is still an issue with anyone descended from slaves being buried here. But, we didn't know either of those things at the time. As we returned to Monticello for the evening's festivities, we noticed the slave burial ground, almost half of a mile from the main house- way down the hill. Despite the detailed records of commerce at Monticello, there was o record of the slave burial ground. It was only discovered in 2001. Slaves were buried with maybe a rock to mark the grave. No inscriptions.


After the graveyard, we strolled up along Mulberry Row where much of the work was done, back in the day. There were people making cabinets, making barrels, making nails, making baskets from oak (I had no idea how they split the wood to make those things) and demonstrating how the slaves cooked. As I watched the skill involved in those things, I continually thought "How could they say Blacks cannot be self-sufficient when many Blacks were practicing crafts way above the level of the average White person of the time?" It's amazing to me what people can rationalize. Blacks could obviously speak, think, show emotion and reproduce with Whites. Yet, somehow White people managed to dehumanize them. I've heard that Blacks were often compared to animals or to children (of limited capacity). But, when it came to using them for skilled labor or for having sex with them, White people gave them responsibilities they would never give to children and did things with them they would not have done with animals.



Speaking of cooking, did you like the looks of the spread in that picture? Well, here's what each slave was given to live on for the week. That's a peck of corn and a little "fat back". I know they didn't know a lot about nutrition 200 plus years ago. But, they knew this wasn't enough to keep a person healthy. Slaves supplemented their rations by farming, hunting and fishing. But, since they worked, for the master, sun up to sun down 6 days a week, there wasn't a lot of time for this. Masters would though buy back excess food from the slaves, giving them their own spending money. Jefferson allowed the barrel makers to keep every 31st barrel of the barrels they produced. This could be sold for some income. The lady doing the cooking (she had just made an awesome looking chicken stew in a dutch oven) told us about how dependent the plantation was on the slaves and we talked about it for a while. From our name tags, she knew we were with the Monticello Gathering. But, I don't think her presentation was tailored to us. I was happy to hear that visitors to Monticello were being given both sides of the story. She told us she was honored to have us there. That was a strange feeling. Honored seemed like a strong word. But, it was another nice welcome home.


After freshening up for a bit back at the hotel, it was time for the reception on the lawn at Monticello. And, we could finally go in
"the big house". The reception was great. The food was even better than the day before. I was happy the kids got to experience the "fancy" reception. The tour of the house was just fascinating. The first thing I noticed was the clock above the doorway (both inside and out) and the weather vane indicator on the porch. In the entryway, there is the first sign that Thomas Jefferson was not perfect. The clock is operated by a weight that moves from day to day. You see Sunday through Friday. But, then there's hole in the floor and no Saturday. Saturday is in the basement. The clock mechanism is actually too high for the room. Oops! We were allowed to go
up to the third floor into the "dome room" and a couple of pretty plain bedrooms. These rooms are normally not accessible to the public. I was disappointed by a couple of things though. The dome was built below the roof-line on the front of the house. I really thought of Jefferson as sitting up there and looking out over Charlottesville. Not! The windows on that side of the dome don't allow that view. You might notice in this picture, the bottom half of the round windows is mirrored because it's below roof level. Also, there are no high porches or decks he could have sat out on. Major surprise to me. There's a door at the opposite end of entrance to the dome room that looks like it would open onto a deck. But, it opens to a storage area. "Proper architecture" dictated the door be put there to balance the doorway on the other side of the room.  But, there was no where for the door to lead to.


Inside, I guess I was most fascinated with Jefferson's library and his bedroom (which were connected). His office was literally right next to his bed. He had a thermometer in the bedroom right next to his bed (which struck me as odd since there was no central air or heat). The clock is right at the foot of his bed. It is said he arose when he could see the clock. That's early that close to the East coast. I know because the sun woke me up pretty early Friday, Saturday and Sunday. There is a chamber ("closet" above his bed, someone said that's where Sally Hemings spent many nights. A closet with ventilation holes?


The kitchen arrangements also were worth noting. The kitchen, cooks'
quarters, smokehouse,
dairy, etc. were down a kind of outdoor hallway on the left side of the house. The other side of
the house had a similar hallway with stables, etc. But, the dining room was on the complete opposite side of the house. The cooks (or runners) had to take the food from the kitchen, down this passageway, through the basement, up the first floor. Then, it was put on a lazy susan (to the right side of the dining room) and spun around to the house slaves who actually served the White people. That way, the White people
didn't have to see or smell the sweaty slaves who had to make these trips.


After the tour of the house, we stood outside for family pictures. We took one with the whole clan. As we were arranging ourselves, someone (I'm guessing of us "darker" cousins) broke into a spontaneous chorus of "We Are Family" by Sister Sledge. But, they changed "I got all my sisters with me." to "I got all my cousins with me.". It was one of the goosebumps moments. I don't have that picture yet.

A few more observations on my family. I was thrilled with the way everybody came together. There wasn't a whitewashing of the past or a denial of the past nor was there anger or bitterness over the past. We talked about the past, accepted all of it, shook our heads and said our "sorrys" about parts of it, embraced parts of it and were willing and ready to move on. We acknowledged that there were good things and bad things about it, just as there were good and bad things about great⁴ grandfather. He was a complicated man, just as we all are. He had many good and brilliant traits. He was an amazing architect, botanist, entrepreneur, political leader, philosopher, etc., etc. Yet, he was not without his flaws. He didn't know when to quit acquiring. He didn't nearly live up to the ideals he set down on paper concerning freedom. He denied and enslaved is own children.



As I said, I'm not much on history, genealogy, all that stuff. But, the trip was good. I'm proud of my ancestors. My White friends often wonder aloud why the Black community is so dysfunctional. Their perception is slavery was a blip and the civil rights movement of the 60s fixed everything. Most of us (including myself sometimes) underestimate the effects of the diaspora on Black people. It was more than a scattering, as the term diaspora implies. They were ripped from their homeland, lost their names, their culture and had another culture thrust upon them. Children were born with their fathers denying them. We still see this happening generations later- so many Black childen growing up without fathers. The effects are still being felt. The ripples have not smoothed out yet. OTOH, it was fascinating recognizing the other part of my heritage also. Thomas Jefferson, one of the most influential men of all time is a part of my family. The slaves that left Monticello led fascinating lives themselves, becoming leaders in their own communities, probably due to his influence. As I look at my own family who has escaped much of the misery and poverty other Blacks still suffer, I wonder how much of that goes back to the fact we were fortunate enough to have come through Monticello rather than some other plantation.



As we drove back yesterday, I asked the girls what they thought about the trip. They loved it. But, they loved seeing Brent's kids (Alyssa and Brianna). Kayla seemed to appreciate Monticello. Shayna... not so much. That's to be expected for Shayna. But, I told her I hoped she would remember the trip because we learned some very important things and I don't think we'll be making it again as a family. She said "I'm never going to make that trip again in my long, long life?" I told her she probably would come back there some day with her family and show them what she saw and appreciate it more then. The trip back was good. The girls were great.



We arrived home safely. I love my little retreat here. From now on, I'll think of it
as my own little Monticello. No slaves. But, we are pretty self-sufficient running our own business and making many of our own products. We are pretty active in the community, too. So, maybe a little of great4 grandfather is still in there. To be like great⁴ grandfather and give some detail, it took 8-1/2 hours back (about 450 miles) and about 9 hours to get there. The weather was good. Sunny most of the way, rain coming through the South Eastern part of Ohio. A little CAR (clouds after rain). We made a few stops.  But, only one stop for breakfast at McDonald's on the way back (no lunch). It was nice to pull back into our own little Monticello, up on the hill, sit on the deck and enjoy our view.



All in all, I'm glad I went, very glad I went. A good time
was had by all.



P.S.- Since coming back I've already been in touch with Prinny and
Connye again.  Maybe we can get a little Internet community
going.

Low Key Fourth Of July

We had a very nice 4th. But, it was very low key. Tuesday, we went over to the neighbors to watch fireworks. There must have been a couple of hundred people there watching about $600 worth of imported (Indiana) fireworks. Yesterday, the girls and Ty hung out at the pool until the thunder started. Since the weather was so iffy, we decided to skip going to Blue Ash or Sharonville for fireworks. Instead, we grilled some Black Angus steaks (the girls and mine were just brown on the outside and cool in the center), sauted some kale and I invented up a sweet potato casserole recipe. Then, we watched Les Miserables. The girls loved it. Poor Shayna though bawled like a baby when Fontine died. It took her about 15 minutes to recover.

Just as the girls were coming up to go to bed, we noticed all the fireworks shows were going. It's hard to get an exact count. But, we could see at least 10 clearly from our front yard.

No pictures from yesterday (bad Brian!). Sorry.

What Was He Doing?

If you can figure it out, let me know. I took the picture and I don't know what this pose was about.

Tuesday all the day-time workers took off a day early and they were all at Walden Ponds. It was more crowded than most weekends (so I hear). We played with Andy Ransdell and Tim Armstrong, two acquaintances from the Vineyard days.

I had a good round. I didn't keep score. My drives were unbelievable. Rarely (never) have I been the long hitter in the group. But, I think I was pretty close today. The lesson and the practice are paying off. My iron play was not so hot. Jon had a good round, too. Jon had an appointment, so we had to rush through the last few holes. I was feeling pretty flustered. But, then, I hit my tee shot onto the green on 9 (we played the back first) and made a 30 footer for birdie. All's well that ends well.

Click on the picture to see more photos in the set. I'm going to try to start putting photos up in sets. So, this will work for the last few posts, also.

Squid- It's What's For Dinner

We were at Jungle Jim's a few weeks ago and saw a box of calamari for sale. It was incredibly cheap. ($6 for 3 pounds). What I didn't realize was that it wasn't cleaned. I had to look it up how to clean squid on the 'net. I jokingly asked Shayna if she would help (knowing she would say no). To my shock, she said said "yes". Not as surprising, she was actually able to do it and cleaned several. She is amazing with her hands.

Unfortunately, she couldn't get over the thought of the raw squid and didn't enjoy them after we cooked them. But, I am so proud of her effort.

Jodi Sings

Jodi and Casey did a great rendition of "What About The Love?" by Amy Grant (co-written by Janis Ian). I wanted to buy it. But, apparently Janis Ian never recorded it. And, I didn't really want the Amy Grant version.

After church, we went to Harbin Park for a picnic and some Frisbee golf. Of course, Jon had to compete with me and I had to spank him (hello Jon, if you're reading this). It was a great time. Frisbee golf is fun for the whole family and really pretty good exercise. We only played nine holes though.

Injured Playing Golf- Is This Possible?

You know those embarrassing injuries, like walking into a door and getting a black eye? Well, I got one of those yesterday, only much more embarrassing. On the 18th hole, after a fantastic round of golf, I reached for a ball under a pine tree and didn't see the sharp branch that laid my ear wide open. It sliced my ear down to (and including) the cartilage.

The fun part was I got to spend the rest of the day finding out first hand just some of the problems with our medical system. I was just going to ignore the cut. After all, everything was still attached and it wasn't bleeding. But, Ty and Shell insisted I go to get stitches. I called our family doctor to learn she doesn't do stitches. I'm still trying to figure out what she does do besides take blood pressure. The nurse there told me to go to Urgent Care. I went there, filled out all my paper work, paid my deductible and after being weighed (don't know what that had to do with my ear), was finally taken into an exam room where they asked me why I was there. The powers of observation of the staff there are about on par with their medical skills since the nurse was standing on my right side when she asked and I had a pretty good gash in my ear. She oohed and ahhed and finally called in the doctor who told me I'd have to go to the ER. The cartilage was "nicked" and I might need to see a specialist. I was incredulous. I asked her why she couldn't fix it and she just said I'd need to see an ER doctor. Shouldn't the people working at URGENT Care be ER doctors? Their website says they handle any non-life threatening medical emergency. If they can't stitch up an ear what can they do?

So, then I was off to the hospital ER for a cut ear. I avoided Mercy Fairfield (near us but notoriously bad) and went to Bethesda North. All the while I'm thinking this will be a chance to see how well my patience practice is going because I know I'm going to be in for some trauma going through the system. They had one intake person who almost immediately took my name. Good start, I thought. She asked me to have a seat and said she would call me back soon. When she called me back (about 1/2 hour later), she took my name, age and asked me why I was there. I told her the embarrassing story. She said "OK, please have a seat again and you'll be called for Triage. Then, you'll go back to Pod D where you will see a doctor." By now it was about 3 o'clock. I had been there for about an hour. I was still under the illusion I might be home by 5. When I was called back for Triage, they asked me all the standard medical questions. As a person into computers, I found this extremely frustrating. But, I maintained my patience (like I have a choice). Why don't we have electronic medical records yet? I see my doctor every six months. They shouldn't have to ask people like me for my medical history, it should be available on an computer network. This is a huge waste of time. But, I thought, I'm one step closer to seeing a doctor. But, something is wrong. They haven't asked me for my insurance information yet. I knew no one gets any treatment without this. So, I asked why I had not been asked for it yet? The nurse answered "Oh, you'll give that when you get back to Pod D". So, it dawned on me, Pod D is not where I get to see a doctor, it's just one more step in the process. She sent me through the big double doors to Pod D, where I discovered Pod D is just another waiting room. After another hour or so in Pod D, someone finally took my insurance information and sent me to a bed in a room with about five other people. I'm not sure how many rooms there were like this. But, there were several and there was one ER doctor on duty. Long story, a little shorter, when he finally got to me, he was thoroughly disgusted (actually he came in and asked me about my Urgent Care experience long before he actually looked at me). He told me that the Urgent Care centers (and this one in particular) refer way too many patients to the ER. He told me I didn't need to be there and that the Urgent Care had done me a disservice by sending me there. He ended up calling the Urgent Care to speak to the doctor who had seen me. But, miraculously, she wasn't there. From his demeanor, I'm guessing this wasn't the first time this had happened.

Finally, a Physician's Assistant sewed me up and about 6pm I was on the way back home. The whole time I was thinking "What would happen if we had a real emergency that sent a lot of people to the ER?" I overheard the ER doctor telling the lady next to me that 1/2 the people there on any given day do not need to be there. People go to the ER for colds, she had a dog bite and all kinds of injuries and illnesses that could be treated in other places.

Anyway, the ear's fine. It's a little sore. The stitches were extremely painful. I guess because the ear is basically cartilage it's very difficult to numb. And, lidocaine doesn't work well on me. They always have to give me multiples shots at the dentist. I didn't want to be a big baby about it when it was hurting while the doctor stitched it. But, I was expecting a stitch or two. I didn't get an official count. But, it turned out to be at least 8 or 10, most of which I felt.

The next time a ball rolls under a pine tree, I think I'll leave it. That was one expensive little golf ball.

p.s.- On a happier note, it was a great day on the course. I broke 90 for the second time in a row and I think the third time this season (yippee!). The real fun though was convincing Jon I had bought a $400 Nike Sasquatch Sumo2 driver on a whim in the Pro Shop at the turn. In reality, the guy working there let me demo the club for the back 9. It is sweet. Like swinging a sledge hammer. But, I'm not sure it's better than my 2 week old Taylor Made r7 Draw driver that I got for 1/2 the price.

Here's a picture of my ear- post stitches. It's much prettier now than it was before. But, still- not for the squeamish. Scroll if you want to see it.

My Father's Day...

Everyone else celebrated Father's Day on June 17th this year. But, I had mine a day early. Ty and the girls were headed to Kentucky to have a meal with her family. But, my gift for Father's Day has always been to watch the final round of the U.S. Open. With Tiger only 2 strokes back, I couldn't abandon him (although he let me down and didn't win).

The girls and Ty gave me a collection of golf shirts. And, the girls insisted that we have to do something special to celebrate. But, since Shell and her boys are here this week that probably won't happen.

Afternoon Date

The girls were off at camp and Ty and I found ourselves with a rare moment alone. She's not going to do well at this empty-nester stuff. She was missing the girls. We went out for a bite at Quizno's and, on-the-spur-of-the-moment, stopped by the Wine C.A.R.T. to check it out. We had a blast. Got to taste some very nice wines and I bought a bottle of Argentinian wine that I had never had before.

Visit Home

We went to Columbus to visit Mom & Dad. Mom took the girls and Ty to the Arts Festival and Dad and I hung out and watched some golf. Brent, Brandon, Bridget and Holly dropped by and we all had dinner together.

This portrait of Dad captures him in one of the moments I'll always remember him by, chewing on a piece of ice and mumbling incoherently because he talks with ice in his mouth.

Golf- My Next Obsession

Golf- My Next Obsession
Originally uploaded by BrianWestChest.

I think Jon's got the golf bug about as bad as I do. We stopped by GolfTec for a free evaluation lesson. I think it is going to help. But, I'm going to find someplace less expensive to continue the lessons. They have all the fancy bells and whistles (my lesson is stored up on the Internet for me to review at any time along with audio and video of the instructor and me interacting). But, since my chances of turning pro are nil, I'm not sure I can justify the type of instruction they get.

Good-Bye to Hair

Good-Bye to Hair
Originally uploaded by BrianWestChest.

Funny how life comes full circle. Dad used to take me to a barber shop where he probably paid about $5 for a hair cut. Later, I started going to "salons" and paying outrageous amounts for hair cuts. Since it's all pretty much gone anyway, now I just drop by the Cincinnati School of Barbering and pay them $5 ($10 with tip) to cut short what's left.

Photo Shop

Yesterday, I took a workshop at church on photography and spirituality. It was very good and gave me a lot of time to play with my camera. I learned quite a bit.

Since I took about 200 photos, does that mean I'm done with Project 365? (just kidding). Here are the best ones...