Just like your Father...

It's funny what can turn your world upside-down.

The 70's were a strange time, but even stranger is the tale I'm going to tell. My father went to Lincoln Christian College to study to be a minister when he was 18. My mother as well, attended LCC... her major was "undeclared." My mother was of coarse a socialite on campus while my dad lived a disciplined life of study and playing on the basketball team (he was an All-American). As chance happened, one night during one of my Dad's ball games, he noticed my mom in the stands. He was actually playing in the game, so he waited till he got benched and asked one of his friends (the team water boy) to go and ask my mom if she would like to go out after the game.

Her reply was, "He can come ask me himself." So after the game was over, my dad humbly walked over and asked her in front of most of the people still in the stands if she would like to go out that night. Her reply (after she made him come and ask her himself) was, "No... I have plans tonight... but I would like you to ask me again some other night." Thus, was the beginning of my father's frustrations.

Trust me when I say that she made him chase her, but once she was caught... as much as my free-spirited mother could be... she actually left college to get a full-time job to support my Dad in school as he pursued his career in the ministry. She has since worked as a legal secretary, while being a house wife, and raising two rather unusual boys.

(Fast Forward 30 years)

My father's world has been turned upside down. My mother just got a job (no college degree) as the Vice-President C.O.O. of a company. She now makes, what is to our family, an obscene amount of money. She works longer hours and has almost given up fixing meals... except on holidays. My dad's not taking this very well. For 30 years he has gone to hospitals, counseling appointments, funerals, and other various job related things and mom has waited at home for him with the kids. But the kids are grown now. Mom isn't waiting when Dad gets home. Sometimes she doesn't get home till late.

This changes who my Dad is. He is not the bread winner. He is not the person with the most important job. She doesn't "need" him anymore. She has something to be excited about that is not church (Dad's job) and not her family (Dad). These are things that are the fundamental make-ups of what Dad views as being a father and a good husband. Because my mom has a new job, my dad's whole role has changed. He doesn't know who he is. He's lonely, jealous, and a little bitter. He is starting to adjust, because he loves my mother... and love means you stay and work it out. It is just painful to watch, because my father is a great father and a good husband. He just doesn't realize yet that he is a great father and husband for all the things he is and not all the things he does.

What will it be in 30 years that turns my world upside-down?

What will I chose for a measuring stick to determine if I'm a good father or a good husband?

I turn 24 tomorrow. I always thought I would be a husband if not a father by now.

I'm just getting used to the idea of being an uncle.

If only I played the bassoon...

Do you ever see people you don't know and make up stories about them. I do. I went to Jason's concert because he belongs to the Wheaton College Symphonic Band. The concert was a success and would have seemed like any other concert, however I knew what was going on under the surface. Or rather imagined what was going on. I find it terribly amusing to make up interesting drama about people I don't know. The following is a account of the events of that night, not as they happened, but as they are interesting to read.

The concert began with a piece called Monument Fanfare and Tribute. It was introduced by a young man named Ryan who was very proud of belonging to the Salvation Army church and Citadel Band as they had just played. He felt that his presence at Wheaton brought diversity to the college as he was representing the Salvation Army. The rest of us however just felt awkward around him as crowds often do around people who truly believe in a cause because we knew that soon we would be avoiding eye contact with him as he rings his bell outside of Wal-Mart with his red bucket.

The conductor of the first piece was the staff director. He was everything a director of a symphony should be. He was a short man with glasses that sat atop his rather pointed nose, dressed in his best and took his time getting to the podium prolonging the applause. It was a great piece that was executed with technical precision as bands technically do for their appointed conductors. At the end the conductor stepped down, his come-over out of place, and took his leave.

Then good ole Jeremy came to the front. Jeremy is the kind of guy that is gifted, but never takes himself or his art too seriously. He does an excellent job at everything he does, but he knows there is more to life than music... like laughter. The lanky percussionist pushes his glasses back into place as he informs the audience that his piece to conduct tonight is The Liberty Bell March which is, in fact, the theme to Monty Python's Flying Circus. He took the podium and began to conduct rather flippantly the band. They didn't care, because they admired Jeremy for his boyish charm and candidness. Jeremy no doubt was conducting because he could and was required to for his major. He knows he's not the best student conductor, but he doesn't care.

The band finishes in good spirits and moves on to the next song. Mr. Steven Carver, as the boy prefers to be called, walks purposefully up to the mic to introduce his choice for the evening. Steven is one of those kids who is described by the teachers as "...nice" or "a good student." Truth be told Steven takes himself way too seriously. He is a suck-up of the worst fashion. He is the kid of person that makes up for his lack of talent for trying too hard. He would be a date rapist if he wasn't afraid of girls. Steven has very few friends as he has no use of them on his way to the top. Steven has chosen a funeral dirge by Bach, which of coarse, he takes very seriously and is overly happy to introduce after having to play Jeremy's piece which Steven thinks is silly. The piece is seriously played and the audience seriously yawns. Not for lack of talent, but lack of passion. When Steven is finished he puts the stick back up his but, bows to the applause ment for the band, and sits down.

Everyone knows the people up next... because they were checking their programs during Steven's speech. Bubbles of fun Michelle Young steps up to the podium grinning from ear to ear. The grin all women have when they are in love or their crush finally spoke to them, asking them to pass the salt. Michelle introduces her piece which is sweet like herself. A young man named Dar Heinze steps forward to play the solo on the flute. Strangely, Dar is not the first chair flutist. A sharp looking blonde is. She is giving Michelle sharp looks. It is clear by the manner of her expression and the size of her breasts that this "first chair" is not used to not getting her way. I image that Michelle has given the solo to Dar at first as an excuse to talk to him and then as a way to spend time with him. Dar of coarse is oblivious as all sweet boys are and will most likely marry the "first chair" as she will make it her mission in life to be better than him and pay back Michelle for daring to pass her over.

And then a man who is barely a boy steps to the front. A man who can truly be described as beautiful in the Greek sense. Young Greg who's talent and passion are complemented by his beauty, brooding, and arrogantness. He sees life in passionate colors and chooses to conduct pieces of music that are described as "luscious." The boy is cursed with the stunning features of a Disney prince and behaives in a way that make the other men suppose he is gay. He will of coarse never be taken seriously because he is pretty and this will only frustrate him occasionally as the rest of the time he will be showered with praise. But it will frustrate him. He steps to the front and towers over his subjects. The girls in the front blush as they realize they are starring and then become flustered as they realized they are suppose to be watching their conductor anyway. Greg raises his hands as he raises the passions of the band. He is not only their leader, but their muse as well. What ever hatreds, jealousies, envies, or school girl crushes existed they are dispelled and only the desire to fulfill his passions exist. He doesn't lead the music, but inspires the instrumentalists to play from their souls. I admire him for his beauty, but pity him as I pity Dorian Grey, for it will be his undoing. But I applaud none the less.

Warning: Technical Language Ahead

So, being as I am in charge of multimedia at the church. I am now experimenting in a great deal more than I have ever been. You are wondering if I'm trying new mind alterting drugs? Not at all. I'm trying out Flash Animation.

I created a wonderful SWF file involving our church logo. It only took me five hours to make this thirty second clip. What can I say... its my first time. Its a lot of layering and copying. Its all worth it in the end, but the prospect of trying to create a church website using flash seems like it might be the end of me. Right now I'm using a program called Kool Moves, but I might need to find something more user friendly to make the website. This is fun, but diffinitly frustrating.

Happy to bore you.

The Family Business

So there is a rather large church in Naperville called Community Christian Church. It is a good church that a few of my friends attend, volunteer, and work at. The great thing is that they have their own "Young Adult" small group. This works out great for me. I can see some old friends, make some new ones, get tips on how a progressive church is doing things, and have some accountability from people who won't feel weird about me being a minister.

However, it is always interesting to watch people's reactions when I tell them I work for my father. It's always "oh, really?" and they make a face like they just tasted something they didn't expect and don't really know if they like it.

I like it. Not telling people that, but doing it. My Dad and I have an interesting relationship. In many ways I take my cues from him. I trust his leadership and his direction. He can say things to me like, "You know Luke... there are a lot of new songs coming up... you might want to put in some hymns if they fit into what you are doing. I'm not try to appease people, but don't forget they are there." Just the way he says it, I have no problems doing it.

On the other hand, my Dad doesn't necessarily "learn" from me, but in some strange way he looks to me for some kind of advice or validation to take a new direction. Just recently I gave my Dad three books to read. They are about office management the way Romeo and Juliet was about a crush. It is a tremendous book about vision, purpose, and leading a group of people to their goals. He started reading them just as a gesture of indulging his son, but quickly devoured them and the next staff meeting sits us all down Me (worship and small groups), Wade (Youth), Mary Ann (Childrens), Patti (Secretary), and Gayla (Janitor)... he says to us. I think we need to pick a destination. We have a vision, but we don't know where we want that vision to take us. And he goes on to say, "I don't know where we need to be, but I know we'll never get their if we don't seek the destination the Lord has for us. We need a goal and it must be measurable." Then he gives me a little knowing smile because it was all in those three books.

I truly believe my father and I have an "iron sharpens iron" relationship. Something I've missed for a long time. I feel like I have something to learn and something to give in the relationship. So people can make whatever faces they want.

Million Dollar Baby

This is a blog for all you people who thought cider House Rules was a love story.

Right now my rage can only be contained because I'm too busy stressing out about finding car insurance to track down the Academy Awards people and beat them to death with their own shoes. I don't know how they sleep at night.

I was sitting at a table sharing a meal with my parents and an other couple. The wife in this couple brought up that she and her husband had gone to see the movie Million Dollar Baby. In case you didn't know... Million Dollar Baby won "Best Picture" "Best Director" (Clint Eastwood) "Best Actress" (Hillary Swank) and "Best Supporting Actor" (Clint Eastwood). The husband of this couple said, "Yeah, that was a great movie." My mother leans in, "Wait, do you know what that movie is about?" He responds, "Yeah, its about boxing!"

Million Dollar Baby is NOT ABOUT BOXING! It's about euthanasia. It is about a young woman who begins her life as trailer trash. She begins to box and consequently travels the world, makes lots of money, and almost be comes the Women's World Champion. However, in her last match she is pushed and breaks her neck. She is paralyzed from the neck down and is on a ventilator and feeding tube (like Christopher Reeves). She faces life as handicapped and doesn't like it very much.

So she tells Clint Eastwood (her coach) a very touching story about her father shooting her lame dog. Then, she asks Eastwood to kill her. He does. Handicapped people across the world are outraged... no one cares... Hollywood cheers it as the Best Picture Of The Year. Million Dollar Baby did not gross much at the box office and was protested by every handicap organization in the world.

Just to put this into perspective for you... The Passion of the Christ was the top grossing movie at the box office, the actors had to learn a dead language, and it arguably was the most influential movie of our time but it was officially ignored by the academy because it was too controversial.

I wonder what our country views as "controversial." A few years ago the movie The cider House Rules one best picture. It was a love story about abortion being okay.

What is going on?

Sport's Other White Meat

After the disappointing loss last night by the Illini, I accepted that basketball was over and am looking forward to watching the Cubs play. But let us not forget the greatest game ever.

That's right... as soon as the covers come off the pools its time for everyone's favorite game, WATERBALL. Some of you may not have caught on to this sport just yet. It's kind of an underground thing... a cult classic if you will. But trust me it will soon become all the rage. It will be bigger than curling.

This game has Slovak roots. It began in the summer of 2002 in a small town known as Streator, IL. On that fateful day, the first game of the season was played. Given that there was only one team in the boys divition and one team in the girls divition, the championship game merrited interdivition play. Both teams came to the water undefeated, but both could not leave that way. Sadly, the game wasn't even close, but highly entertaining to the fans as the Incomprehending Interns slaughtered the Silly Sisters. It was quite a beating, but a good time was had by all. How many teams are in the two divitions today is now unknown, but this season we expect to see some new teams battle it out with the vetrens. Who will emerge as the Waterball champion of the Universe?

Waterball rules and explinations:

Setting: Played in a pool roughly 4-5ft deep located at a private residence. Said pool must be no bigger than 25ft in diameter and no smaller than 12 1/2ft in radius. Barbed wire is optional.

Concept: Four bases will be assigned to four place on the side of the pool. They may be marked with towels or cracks in the side of the pool. The game is played much like baseball. There are two fielders and two batters. One fielder pitches a "water ball" to the batter who has a "water bat."
Once the hitter connects with the ball they must swim underwater to the first base. The fielders must try to touch the batter with the "water ball" while they are not touching a base. The hitter's head must be above water in order to be touched by the ball causing one "out." The fielders may use an means nessesary to cause the hitter to surface. (Playing dirty is encouraged.)
Points are scored when the hitter makes it to home plate. In the event the ball is hit out of the pool (in fare play not a foul ball) the ball is still in play. There are no free homeruns. One of the fielders may exit the pool to fetch the ball.
The game is played till it gets too dark, too cold, or the girls are too tired to continue getting beat.

Uniforms: Waterball participants in the boys divition are required to wear short swimming trunks that can be no longer than 6 inches in lenth from the waste. Girls are to wear one piece swiming suits that are "camp team approved." Jr. Participants must wear a animal shaped floatation devices.

PLAY BALL!

It's A Whole New Ball Game

So I went to the IKEA store in Shaumburg the other day. I have learned many things from this experience. Three of which I will now share.

One:
I love IKEA. I could buy every piece of furniture I will ever own from there, but the service sucks.

Point B:
In the store, I began to grow more annoyed the longer I stayed. (It wouldn't be my blog if something didn't annoy me). I began to search inside myself for some deep personal meaning for my agitation. I did not find it next to my inner child or near my feminine side. I did however find it near me and it was, in fact, female. Of coarse, the women were pissing me off.

Men and women have very different shopping agendas. We are led to believe that men are hunters and women are gatherers. This is NOT the case. Men have a clear agenda when they go to the store. They go with a mental list. They know their prey and hunt it mercilessly, kill it (buy it), and return home. In the process, they extend courtesy to their fellow shoppers by traveling on the right side of the isle and not parking their cart in inconvenient places. Men want the success of their fellow men. I fully believe that women are also hunters, but a different kind.

For men, the prey is the enemy. For women, the enemy is OTHER WOMEN. Men are only conscious of the objective. Women disguise themselves as gathers with no agenda... just merely window shopping. But really, they just take their time because they are watching the other shoppers. They pick up a blouse... a lamp... a hat, they examine it and put it back. Then another woman (who has been watching her fellow shopper) picks up the same lamp. Immediately, the woman who has just put down the lamp thinks, "I've just been stabbed in the back. There is something about that lamp that I missed, some quality I've overlooked." She returns and snatches it up. She doesn't want the lamp. She'll put it back before she checks out (most likely on the wrong shelf). She doesn't want the other woman to have it. She doesn't want to conquer the store. She wants to beat other women to the great deal.

This results in a variety of behaviors that hinder my shopping experience. I used to think they were not aware they were walking slowly in the MIDDLE OF THE ISLE. But I know now that they are trying to block my advance so they have more time to take in their surroundings so they can defeat me, when I'm not playing against them. If this continues, I think "full contact" should be allowed. I think a good shoulder check or to and people wouldn't be stupid enough to just stand around in people's way. At IKEA there were a group of women who seemed to be following me and picking up everything I put down. I thought about picking up and putting down everything I could get my hands on, just to see what they'd do. But the lesson learned is that men are hunters and women are secret agents.

And Finally My Third Point:
The game has changed. Not only is IKEA home of the great deal, but also home of the twenty-something single woman. This place is just crawling with girls... girls that wouldn't be described as having "great personality" when asked if they are cute. So, I make a stop in the men's room and did a quick check. I'm looking good (every man thinks this). But I attract no attention. Am I not looking good? Are they too busy shopping? So I pick up the lamp I'm there to buy. Heads turn on floors 1,2 and 3. Women run from other departments to check me out. Not really, but it seemed like it.
The girls at the store never looked at me when I was browsing. When I had something in my hand, their eyes shot obviously to my purchase. Then, after they evaluated whatever it is you can tell from a choice of lamp, then they would proceed to the rest of me. They didn't look at my clothes or my hair or anything else. They wanted to know: Did he get a good deal? Is he smart with my money? Does he have good taste? And God only knows what else they ask themselves. Now I'm all self conscious. Could it be that to meet women I need to go to the furniture store and just walk around with a tasteful lamp or a well chosen set of coasters? Truly, we are living in the end times.

And Knowing is Half the battle.