Next stop: Bangkok, Thailand.
Next 5 days (in fahrenheit): 98, 91, 93, 89, 89.
Don't even get me started on humidity.
31 March 2008
29 March 2008
in-flight entertainment
I generally prefer aisle seats. I can stretch out, access the overhead bins, walk around, be the first to jump up and go nowhere when the seatbelt light is turned off.
I ended up in a window seat on my way back to California and found myself mesmerized by the clouds. In some spots, the clouds were foam floating on a clear stream; I could see the contours of the land beneath. In other spots, the clouds were frothy waves on a stormy sea. In yet other spots, the clouds took on the shapes of wildlife and city skylines. In my mind, I knew that if I reached out and touched one, my fingers would not sense the fluffy, cottony texture and substance I'd always imagined in childhood; a cloud is little more than water vapor. But it looked so... real. How is possible that something could so dramatically defy its own appearance?
I felt deceived by my own eyes. Surely God gave us different senses, heart and head, mind and body and spirit, because sometimes parts of the bundle mislead us. The clouds may deceive the eye, but not the touch. What's visible is not always real or tangible; what's invisible and intangible is not always imagined. And once in a while, what is real is better than what we can touch or imagine.
These were some of the thoughts that coursed through me as the plane chased the setting sun. For a few hours, I could see its rays just beyond the wing as we sped westward; it seemed that we might catch up. But that, too, was an illusion. Nearly five hours later, we landed under the night sky.
I ended up in a window seat on my way back to California and found myself mesmerized by the clouds. In some spots, the clouds were foam floating on a clear stream; I could see the contours of the land beneath. In other spots, the clouds were frothy waves on a stormy sea. In yet other spots, the clouds took on the shapes of wildlife and city skylines. In my mind, I knew that if I reached out and touched one, my fingers would not sense the fluffy, cottony texture and substance I'd always imagined in childhood; a cloud is little more than water vapor. But it looked so... real. How is possible that something could so dramatically defy its own appearance?
I felt deceived by my own eyes. Surely God gave us different senses, heart and head, mind and body and spirit, because sometimes parts of the bundle mislead us. The clouds may deceive the eye, but not the touch. What's visible is not always real or tangible; what's invisible and intangible is not always imagined. And once in a while, what is real is better than what we can touch or imagine.
These were some of the thoughts that coursed through me as the plane chased the setting sun. For a few hours, I could see its rays just beyond the wing as we sped westward; it seemed that we might catch up. But that, too, was an illusion. Nearly five hours later, we landed under the night sky.
27 March 2008
if you can't take the heat, get off the trail
Chelsea Clinton's reaction to a question about her mother's handling of the Lewinsky scandal churned in my gut for a few days. I didn't like it, to be sure, but something else about it bothered me.
A few days later, I watched a televised segment of Chelsea's campaign speech at another college campus. She likened herself to the students in the audience. I'm a young person just like you, she told the audience. I share - I know - your struggles and concerns for issues such as affordable higher education.
Chelsea's own words put the finger on my discomfort during the earlier brouhaha. She grew up in the governor's mansion and the White House, under the protection of armed guards. I doubt FAFSA ever featured in her considerations about attending Stanford and Oxford. Whatever disadvantages that accompany such a cloistered life, it is a privileged life; in this regard, she has more in common with Paris Hilton than with the average American college student.
Her claim - that she once was your typical college student worried about paying tuition - is a lie, and her brush-off of an inartful but legitimate question blew the cover off her act. The content and tone of her response betrayed a belief that some things, albeit acceptable for the common person, are beneath her; she is not subject to rules that apply to others. Every other person who goes on the campaign trail must face and address the press; but not I. Others on the campaign trail must face and answer uncomfortable questions; but not I. One can only speculate the extent to which this outlook is an individual or a family trait.
A highly educated, 28-year-old investment banker does not need the same level of protection as a 14-year-old girl. The former should not be afforded such protection when she holds herself out as a public voice in one of the most contested and important American elections in recent history.
A few days later, I watched a televised segment of Chelsea's campaign speech at another college campus. She likened herself to the students in the audience. I'm a young person just like you, she told the audience. I share - I know - your struggles and concerns for issues such as affordable higher education.
Chelsea's own words put the finger on my discomfort during the earlier brouhaha. She grew up in the governor's mansion and the White House, under the protection of armed guards. I doubt FAFSA ever featured in her considerations about attending Stanford and Oxford. Whatever disadvantages that accompany such a cloistered life, it is a privileged life; in this regard, she has more in common with Paris Hilton than with the average American college student.
Her claim - that she once was your typical college student worried about paying tuition - is a lie, and her brush-off of an inartful but legitimate question blew the cover off her act. The content and tone of her response betrayed a belief that some things, albeit acceptable for the common person, are beneath her; she is not subject to rules that apply to others. Every other person who goes on the campaign trail must face and address the press; but not I. Others on the campaign trail must face and answer uncomfortable questions; but not I. One can only speculate the extent to which this outlook is an individual or a family trait.
A highly educated, 28-year-old investment banker does not need the same level of protection as a 14-year-old girl. The former should not be afforded such protection when she holds herself out as a public voice in one of the most contested and important American elections in recent history.
24 March 2008
generations
Before I left for Uganda a year ago, my brother brought his daughter to California to see me off. My niece was not yet two and had only started to walk and speak.
A year later, she is running and chatting, quite a different little person than the one I last saw at LAX. She has favorite colors and food preferences and mood swings and the cutest little mug. She nows knows how to both pose for and foil a shutterbug.
In a week, I will see the grandfather who I last saw in 1996, who, then 85, had both the towering height and commanding demeanor to induce fear and submission in small (and not so small) children. My brother warns that grandfather looks much older and is much more frail than I'd ever known this family patriarch to be.
I spend much of my time with people in the prime of life, during which a year or a decade makes some but not very dramatic differences in one's physical aptitude or appearance. But those at the bookends of life remind me that life keeps moving and growing and changing everyday, every year. We should do likewise.
A year later, she is running and chatting, quite a different little person than the one I last saw at LAX. She has favorite colors and food preferences and mood swings and the cutest little mug. She nows knows how to both pose for and foil a shutterbug.
In a week, I will see the grandfather who I last saw in 1996, who, then 85, had both the towering height and commanding demeanor to induce fear and submission in small (and not so small) children. My brother warns that grandfather looks much older and is much more frail than I'd ever known this family patriarch to be.
I spend much of my time with people in the prime of life, during which a year or a decade makes some but not very dramatic differences in one's physical aptitude or appearance. But those at the bookends of life remind me that life keeps moving and growing and changing everyday, every year. We should do likewise.
21 March 2008
weeping in the west
I took a lot of medication with me to Uganda. Infections and ailments - especially "traveler's diarrhea" - seemed inevitable. But apart from an annoying cough that subsided once I adjusted to the air quality, I remained in good health.
No health warnings are typically issued when it comes to travels within the so-called developed West. But after a few weeks in a few cities and states, I've got projectile emissions coming out both ends.
The irony provides some comic relief as I "weep fluids" (as one medical website so aptly describes). But I'm plenty ready for the hilarity (and the weeping) to come to an end.
No health warnings are typically issued when it comes to travels within the so-called developed West. But after a few weeks in a few cities and states, I've got projectile emissions coming out both ends.
The irony provides some comic relief as I "weep fluids" (as one medical website so aptly describes). But I'm plenty ready for the hilarity (and the weeping) to come to an end.
20 March 2008
travel companions
I was shocked - dismayed, appalled - to learn during my current travels that some airlines now charge fees to watch movies during domestic flights. (If you want to buy their headsets, that's an additional charge.) The gall. How am I to pass the time? Meditate? Do my taxes? Talk to my neighbors? Listen to my neighbors??!!
The airlines' stinginess (and my own) may work out to be a blessing in disguise. In an age of 200+ channels and youtube, there remains something uniquely powerful in the written word. The pen is mightier than the remote control.
The airlines' stinginess (and my own) may work out to be a blessing in disguise. In an age of 200+ channels and youtube, there remains something uniquely powerful in the written word. The pen is mightier than the remote control.
19 March 2008
bean there, done that
A week in Beantown is best the third time around. The pressures of rising early, hitting the pavement, seeing everything "worthwhile" have already been vitiated by prior visits.
This time, the only agenda is to see and spend time with good friends, to be a part of their life in Boston, to share in the everyday things. To meet the newborn and find an easy excuse to stay in and cook and chat, to watch "Hot Fuzz" then quote and reenact it ad nauseum, to feel the time and space of a year fade away in the span of hours and days.
This time, the only agenda is to see and spend time with good friends, to be a part of their life in Boston, to share in the everyday things. To meet the newborn and find an easy excuse to stay in and cook and chat, to watch "Hot Fuzz" then quote and reenact it ad nauseum, to feel the time and space of a year fade away in the span of hours and days.
13 March 2008
stand down
When a newly elected official takes office, there is usually some unofficial training where he or she learns both the formal and informal procedures and protocol that accompany the new office.
I wonder if there is a similar class for the spouses of politicians. It certainly seems like "Stand By Your Man 101" is a mandatory course for wives of politicians and public figures, in the event the elected spouse is caught with a 20-year old call girl, a 20-year old intern or, for extra credit, a male escort. The course covers everything from what one would say ("This is a challenging time for our family, but we love and stand behind him") to what one would wear (dark suit, classic accessories, somber expression) at the inevitable press conference where the man who vowed honor and fidelity to wife and office declares that, alas, he is only human. The course would not cover how to maintain a healthy marriage while competing with the demands of the office and the ego boost that comes with the territoriy; it would only address what happens when the infidelity is documented and undeniable.
This being nearly 2010, it seems time to tinker with the syllabus. For starters, the press conference protocol should be changed so that, as opposed to standing behind him in silence, the betrayed spouse could serve him - stylishly and with great flair - with divorce papers.
I wonder if there is a similar class for the spouses of politicians. It certainly seems like "Stand By Your Man 101" is a mandatory course for wives of politicians and public figures, in the event the elected spouse is caught with a 20-year old call girl, a 20-year old intern or, for extra credit, a male escort. The course covers everything from what one would say ("This is a challenging time for our family, but we love and stand behind him") to what one would wear (dark suit, classic accessories, somber expression) at the inevitable press conference where the man who vowed honor and fidelity to wife and office declares that, alas, he is only human. The course would not cover how to maintain a healthy marriage while competing with the demands of the office and the ego boost that comes with the territoriy; it would only address what happens when the infidelity is documented and undeniable.
This being nearly 2010, it seems time to tinker with the syllabus. For starters, the press conference protocol should be changed so that, as opposed to standing behind him in silence, the betrayed spouse could serve him - stylishly and with great flair - with divorce papers.
11 March 2008
remains of the year
Two days ago, I gave a presentation to a Sunday school class about my time in Uganda. I shared stories as I scrolled through pictures. At points, I caught myself laughing at a memory too tangential to explain. At other points, my voice would catch as I recalled the people and interactions on the screen.
Yesterday, I ate a piece of a "really good" pineapple given by a family friend. It was all I could do to resist the urge to spit out rather than swallow the mouthful.
Today, as I scrubbed red dirt off the soles of my shoes with an old toothbrush, I unthinkingly wished for a practical way to preserve a specimen of the richly colored soil.
So it continues, the inexplicable grip that Uganda has on me. Whatever imprint my brief time there has left on my tastebuds and soul (or sole), it hasn't yet fully lifted.
Yesterday, I ate a piece of a "really good" pineapple given by a family friend. It was all I could do to resist the urge to spit out rather than swallow the mouthful.
Today, as I scrubbed red dirt off the soles of my shoes with an old toothbrush, I unthinkingly wished for a practical way to preserve a specimen of the richly colored soil.
So it continues, the inexplicable grip that Uganda has on me. Whatever imprint my brief time there has left on my tastebuds and soul (or sole), it hasn't yet fully lifted.
07 March 2008
remote control
My most relaxing week in the month since my return was spent at my sister's in Morro Bay, a lovely spot on the central coast of California. My sister and I would hang out during the weekend and in the evenings after she got home from work. During the day, I'd roam about town, go to the beach, visit the local library (for internet access), and watch The Office and movies on DVD.
Before my arrival, the remote control for the DVD player had run out of juice. My sister and I regularly reminded each other to get one during the next outing, then promptly forgot the moment we closed the door behind us. There weren't nearly as many functions on the DVD player as on the remote control, and what few functions still available could only be accessed if I hauled my ass off the couch and physically asserted pressure on the relevant buttons. In short, for all intents and purposes, I had to watch shows and movies all the way through. I "couldn't" rewind to hear missed dialogue, fast-forward past familiar or seemingly unimportant portions, or replay favored scenes over and over (and over) again.
I remember the pre-ipod days, even pre-CD days, when I'd play an entire album all the way through, when I'd listen to every song, not just the ones already favored by the radio stations. In so doing, I had come to find some of the best that were never formally released; they had to be discovered.
I can only imagine how much of life and people I have overlooked because I was fast-forwarding when I should've been paying attention, or because I was replaying (yet again) a past interaction and thus too distracted to focus on one unraveling in the present. In my head and my heart, I know life doesn't have a multi-function remote control; I get to live a given moment once and it's gone. But I can't seem to bring myself to live this reality. I dwell rather than forgive. I take for granted rather than treasure.
The past is full of memories and lessons, the future gives hope and purpose, so surely the present isn't the only one that matters. God's in all three; this I know. But the relative weight of each to the other? That I haven't quite figured out just yet.
Before my arrival, the remote control for the DVD player had run out of juice. My sister and I regularly reminded each other to get one during the next outing, then promptly forgot the moment we closed the door behind us. There weren't nearly as many functions on the DVD player as on the remote control, and what few functions still available could only be accessed if I hauled my ass off the couch and physically asserted pressure on the relevant buttons. In short, for all intents and purposes, I had to watch shows and movies all the way through. I "couldn't" rewind to hear missed dialogue, fast-forward past familiar or seemingly unimportant portions, or replay favored scenes over and over (and over) again.
I remember the pre-ipod days, even pre-CD days, when I'd play an entire album all the way through, when I'd listen to every song, not just the ones already favored by the radio stations. In so doing, I had come to find some of the best that were never formally released; they had to be discovered.
I can only imagine how much of life and people I have overlooked because I was fast-forwarding when I should've been paying attention, or because I was replaying (yet again) a past interaction and thus too distracted to focus on one unraveling in the present. In my head and my heart, I know life doesn't have a multi-function remote control; I get to live a given moment once and it's gone. But I can't seem to bring myself to live this reality. I dwell rather than forgive. I take for granted rather than treasure.
The past is full of memories and lessons, the future gives hope and purpose, so surely the present isn't the only one that matters. God's in all three; this I know. But the relative weight of each to the other? That I haven't quite figured out just yet.
05 March 2008
ocean
Lately, I've been thnking about You
And lately, I've been dreaming of You
And lately, I can't get You out of my head
Get You out of my head
Something about the ocean
Makes me rise up and praise
Something about the heavens
Makes me stand in awe again
Something about the sunrise
Reminds me of Your faithfulness
Something about the ocean
And I'm lost in love again
I'll sing until I sense a smile
Upon Your great and lovely face
And till I know Your glory's in this place
Your glory's in this place
Something about the ocean
Makes me rise up and praise
Something about the heavens
Makes me stand in awe again
Something about the sunrise
Reminds me of Your faithfulness
Something about the ocean
And I'm lost in love again
(by Ten Shekel Shirt)
And lately, I've been dreaming of You
And lately, I can't get You out of my head
Get You out of my head
Something about the ocean
Makes me rise up and praise
Something about the heavens
Makes me stand in awe again
Something about the sunrise
Reminds me of Your faithfulness
Something about the ocean
And I'm lost in love again
I'll sing until I sense a smile
Upon Your great and lovely face
And till I know Your glory's in this place
Your glory's in this place
Something about the ocean
Makes me rise up and praise
Something about the heavens
Makes me stand in awe again
Something about the sunrise
Reminds me of Your faithfulness
Something about the ocean
And I'm lost in love again
(by Ten Shekel Shirt)
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