Thursday, December 29, 2011

Soldier's Pay--A Book Review




  I have something to admit to the HTH audience that I have kept to myself for sometime and really only Mel knows this. I have only read about 20 Faulkner short stories and now only one novel. (Audible Gasp!) Several years ago, one of my many arch-nemesis' (The Oprah Book Club) came out with the Summer of Faulkner set and it seemed like beloved William was everywhere, but I didn't see anyone buckled down and actually reading it, which added insult to injury for me. It did however sell a lot of copies for the grandchildren of Faulkner. I was complaining about the whole situation and Mel gave me some tough love. She listened to my rantings as she so patiently does and then asked in her quiet way, how much of Faulkner had I really read? The answer was not very much save the very popular short story, A Rose for Emily, that we all read in 10th Grade American Literature. So, I did what every bibliophile does, I used my nearest Barnes and Noble gift certificate and bought the whole set of William Faulkner novels put out by the Library of America. And I also picked up the two, comprehensive short story collections that have been published. And there they sat for the next four years. I would read a few short stories here and there and then tell myself that I'm not ready to read a novel yet. That changed about two months ago. I was finished with a book and looking for something next when I decided to pull the proverbial trigger, I grabbed the first Faulkner edition which contains his main works from the years 1926-1929 and began to read. The first book in the edition is his first published novel, Soldier's Pay.
 
Soldier's Pay is William Faulkner's first publish novel, but not his first published work. The Marble Faun, a collection of poems, was his first real published work of note. The novel was written in 1926 long before he became the pillar of American Literature that he has become known as. The story in short is about Donald Mahon, an American soldier who had gone to England to become an RAF pilot during the First World War before America entered the conflict. He gets shot down and terribly injured. His family is told he is dead, but then is shipped home from a foreign hospital. The novels begins with a group of very rowdy America soldiers who have missed the conflict all together due to the length of time it takes to train an army and the fact that America was only involved in WWI for a very short amount of time. (This same thing happened to a young, William Faulkner and  F. Scott Fitzgerald). The soldiers are riding back home on a train and giving the porters a very hard time. On this train, we meet two of the main character's, Joe Gilligan, a regular infantry soldier, and Cadet Lowe, a pilot who never saw action and is severely depressed about it. As they make their way across the country and back home to their respective homes, they run into a helpless, wounded pilot (Donald Mahon) and a young, beautiful widow, Mrs. Powers, who they both fall madly in love with. And they all decide to escort him and help his family out as they try to welcome their son, who is a shadow of the man he used to be, back into their lives. The rest of the novel is the story of their trip, their arrival to Mahon's home and town, his father's reaction to get back his shell of a son after he was thought dead, the town's reaction to his return when their other sons did not, and finally the drama that entails when it becomes known that he (Mahon) was engaged to a young, and seemingly promiscuous Miss Cecily Saunders, who is no longer interested in Mahon now that he is damaged goods. The novel does contain several secondary characters, like Januarius Jones, who is an easy one to love to hate, but the main story sticks with the primary characters.

   This is not a strange story, but rather one that many young Americans experienced because America at the time was practicing the Isolationist Doctrine, believing that if we just left everyone alone and dealt with our own domestic problems, then no one would bother us or the world at large. (Sound familiar?) If you've ever watched every girl's second favorite movie Pearl Harbor, a young Ben Affleck does just this very thing during the Second World War because America had gone back to being an Isolationist country and wanting to stay out of any conflict and once again deal with just our own domestic problems then everyone will just leave us alone. This experience, the one of becoming an RAF pilot, is one that Faulkner knew well because he did the same and is able to write about it with vivid detail.

    This novel was not an easy read. Often times, I would have to read a section several times before I understood exactly what was happening and to whom. It is written very similarly to how Fitzgerald's first, This Side of Paradise, is in that it is goes from mental thoughts to dialogue and real time actions, past, present and future all at once and then contains poems and letters dispersed throughout. To be honest, I almost gave up on it several times, but am so glad I did not. It was not particularly a great read. However, the ache of the father in beholding his injured son (This was Donald, my son. He is dead.) was so vivid and raw that it brought me to tears several times and the frustration of Gilligan with everyone's reaction to the war, to Donald, and finally to him is one that is echoed in many of the American writer's of the 20's and still feels fresh if you listen to a returning soldier from Iraq or Afghanistan. And lastly the need to feel like you are worth something and doing something that matters was also very strongly written through the character of Mrs. Powers. And her ache for the soldier she married on impulse due to his shipping off and then the loss of him so shortly afterwards is also very strongly written.

   Books like this aren't fun to read, but that is exactly the real reason for literature is it? I feel I learn so much about writing and America just by reading them. I would suggest reading this because I feel you will also learn as I did. It will also let you follow Faulkner's progression from the timid writer of poems to the master craftsman that he would become (or so as I've heard).

Happy reading and now onto his second novel, Mosquitoes,

  David

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Outer Dark--A Book Review



   If you read most of the accolades concerning or about author Cormac McCarthy, you begin to wonder if everyone has believed the hype that they, themselves have generated. However, it will only take one book for you to know that most of what they say is not hyperbole, but honest summations about the writings of McCarthy. I have only read five McCarthy novels and am not a partaker of vast amounts of books written after 1970, but out of the authors I have had a chance to read, McCarthy is one of the best and when it comes to true, neo-gothic (not Goth) fiction, he may be the best, but as mentioned elsewhere, I'm only an amateur reader.

   Outer Dark, his second novel, is no exception. It is simply the story (a very disturbing one at that) of a young woman who bears her brother's child, the brother abandons the newborn in the woods to die in shame and continued evilness, the baby is taken by a tinker, then he (both brother and tinker) flee, and then the mother sets about on a perilous journey through the countryside to find her baby. As with each McCarthy novel I've read there is a very real sense of justice and a dark feeling as a whole that at times becomes heavy and burdensome to the reader. At the same time as the main plot, there is a secondary plot that includes three terrifying and elusive strangers that haunt the same countryside bringing both horror and McCarthy uses them as his swift and terrifying (almost to an Old Testament level) hand of justice. 

    The book is only 242 pages long, but like the other McCarthy novels that I've read, they stay with you for a long time. He writes in a way where the dialogue feels authentic and real, the scenes are scenes you have either actually observed as well or can imagine, and the reactions and actions of the characters seem to be that of real humans. To me, this story felt like an rugged, southern Appalachian version of Silas Marner without the happy ending, but also was very unique in every way. 

     McCarthy is oft-compared to William Faulkner and I haven't read enough Faulkner to know if this fits or not, but I do know that currently there are very few writers that can even be, or should be mentioned in the same sentence with him. He and his writing appear to be cut from the same cloth of the American writers of a much earlier time and talent. Each page takes you to places and makes you the reader interact with characters that you will think about long after you have finished the book. I would think it would be nearly impossible to read a McCarthy novel and not find yourself trying to come to terms with yourself and the book as a whole. This to me is real writing. It is not an easy task for either author or reader to partake in. 

     I won't ruin the ending of the book for you, but only say it is a very good read. His description of the landscapes and persona that dot the southern Appalachians are almost second to none that I've read as of late. I will say that you should use caution when reading McCarthy. It will be neither easy nor will it be one that you can close, put back on the shelf, and never think about again. It will disturb you and cause you to try to solve something mentally that you just won't be allowed to do. 
Read away, but show caution,

   David



Friday, December 23, 2011

Born to Run--A Book Review



  Born to Run recounts the author, Christopher McDougall's quest to answer the simple question, " Why does my foot hurt?". He tried to get this answered because everytime he tried to run, he ended up getting injured in some way or another. He went to specialist after specialist and followed the advice of each one and their solutions and would after a time still end up getting injured. This does not surprise me because if you hang around with a group of runners long enough, then you will soon find that the conversation will most likely find its way to everyone's long laundry list of running injuries. And I'm not free from this, I usually get injured due to running at least once every year (I'm currently nursing an Achilles's injury that I sustained back in late October). This also does not surprise me since runners are using their bodies and demanding from it like few others. If this were cars we were talking about, then it would all make sense: the vehicles being used the most are the ones that need to be worked on, tuned up, replacement parts, etc. the most. 
   
  However, all of this was unacceptable to McDougall. He was tired of the circular logic of: How come my foot hurts? Because running is bad for you. Why is running bad for you? Because it makes your foot hurt. He loved to run. He felt that it brought together a human's " two greatest primal impulses: fear and pleasure. We run when we're scared, we run when we're ecstatic, we run away from our problems and run around for a good time." (Pg. 11) So, McDougall digs as deep as he has to dig in order to find a real remedy. In his digging, he recounts the two big running booms in the USA, before the Great Depression and the 70's boom, the good and the very bad about running shoe companies, the estimated reasons why primative man ran at all, and why modern man still feels the urge to run, but ended up getting injured. And all of this leads him to the Tarahumara, a tribe that lives in the Copper Canyon region of Mexico and lives as it did thousands of years ago and routinely runs 100 mile races and the older one gets, the better he/she gets which is directly opposite of what we currently think and see.

   This book is a great read and I'm so glad it was given to me (Thanks, Mom!). It is 281 pages long, but it only took me a week or so to read it and I'm a slow reader and only to get to read at lunch on occasion or at night before I fall asleep. McDougall does a wonderful job of showing the joys of running. And his recounting of each of the characters he meets along his way is very thorough and a joy to read. His play by play account of his motley crew's journey down to the Copper Canyons in order to race the Tarahumara is one of the best pieces of sport journalism that I've read in a while. 

  The two weak points of the book are his constant wondering of why a company like Nike would rather make money than make consistently, good products. I am not sure where this mindset comes from, but know it is one that is shared by an eerily large portion of the American population. Companies are formed to make money. Yes, it would be nice in a perfect world that those said companies showed great ethics and put the consumer and the consumer's health first, but that would require two things: an informed consumer who demanded those things and a business that found it profitable to meet that consumer in the middle and neither of these show up much in the real world. Companies are formed to make money. End of story for better or worse. Companies that survive the test of time are those that are able to do so and on more occasions than not, put the customer first by making quality dependable products. And the second weak point is all of Chapter 28. It takes all of the theory of primitive man evolving into what it is now today to a whole new level. McDougall includes the chapter because it helps enforce his theory: mankind was built to run and running shoes have slowed us down and injured us. However, to me, this is a weak place to go. He could have used the data (real) and made a very strong case alone without going to several scientists and their theories that have no real scientific (observable, measurable, repeatable) proof and then using it as facts. I know this is used all the time, but this is not real science. 

    I really enjoyed reading this book and may reread it. It makes you really want to throw off your shoes and go running or in the least, it makes you want to lace up and run for hours. McDougall is a gifted writer because he makes even lab data a breeze to read. This book is given credit for the whole "barefoot running" craze which can now be seen all over the place with the Vibram Five Fingers and all the other "minimalist" shoes that every company is now coming out with. I am all for people getting out and running, but I hate to see people accept something hook, line, and sinker without really thinking about it. Mankind may have run barefoot a long time ago, but nothing in 2011 is like it was even 50 years ago. You rarely see people, even small kids, without shoes. Humanity as a whole is a lot bulkier than they were. Almost all jobs are sedentary now. The human body is not used to the strain and impact of running unshod especially in an urban setting, which most of us find ourselves in. So, within this "minimalist theory" there are many unforeseen areas for possible injuries. 

   I have now coached three seasons of cross country since this book has come out and have had multiple runners and their parents who have jumped head first in to this new running craze/theory/trend only to find themselves injured with knee aliments, bad cuts from running on concrete that has glass in it, and broken toes. I am all for trying to find new and healthier running options, but I always think caution should be shown before diving head first into an unproven theory. 

  My favorite portions of this book have to do with the idea of character and how running builds it. I have always felt this while running and while coaching. Accomplishing something as a runner seems to have a wondrous effect on an individual. Each runner, no matter the level or talent, has to dig from some unknown place to find the strength, zeal, endurance, etc to reach a new height. McDougall discusses this in great detail towards the latter part of the book as he learns from both the Tarahumara and from the examples of the likes of ultra-running legend Scott Jurek that running is about much more than winning races and besting world records. He even comes to the point of writing, "the reason we race isn't so much to beat each other, but to be with each other...it's easier to get outside yourself (perform outside of your perimeters) when you're thinking about someone else..." (pg 253). I feel this is so very true whether it is in running or in every other area of life. 

Read the book. It is worth your time. Find an open grassy field, take your shoes off, and run like you did when you were a kid, but please watch for glass or roots.

  David

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

My Take on the Netflix Debacle



   I realize as usual that I'm about a month or more behind on this, but I am still seeing things here and there about it. So, I still feel it is okay to speak about it. If you aren't sure exactly what I'm talking about, I'll bring you up to speed as quickly as possible. It goes very simply like this: Netflix emerges as a DVD straight to your home company for a nominal fee, business grows like wildfire, they (Netflix) increase their services and capabilities while not increasing their fees by much, business explodes, they (Netflix) offer great customer service, quick returns, and once again increase their services by offering streaming shows, movies, and documentaries straight to your television all while only increasing their prices by a small fee, business grows faster than the H1N1 paranoia, and several years go by, all while the aforementioned items continue and their stock prices sore, then they increase their fees by some "absurd" rate, customers get violently angry, their CEO apologizes through a mass email, decides to split the company into two different companies depending on their services (DVD rental vs. Streaming), customers go several steps beyond violent outrage, they lose large amounts of customers, the CEO apologizes again once again by mass email, and they lose more customers, reduce their rates by a small amount, offer more services, and go back on the idea of splitting the company into two, separate companies, and still they lose customers, and now are left with a struggling company, cheap stock, and a bad name. That is where we stand today.

  I am going to say that I'm at a loss for exactly what went wrong. Maybe someday, someone will explain it all to me slowly. Mel and I have been loyal Netflix customers since 2008. We moved to Macon and couldn't afford cable and the idea of joining the Netflix Nation came to me in a vision at night (Please know this is no joke.)When we jumped aboard the Netflix train, the fee was $7 or $8 dollars a month and this allowed us to watch one DVD at a time and also watch anything we wanted via their website. Santa via Nana gave us a ROKU box in 2009 and we really became huge fans of Netflix! We now could stream almost any show, movie, documentary, etc straight to our television. It was as close to magic as either of us have come. We have been in this frenzied state since then and we currently pay $16.95 a month for both the constant, truly unlimited streaming and the one DVD at a time. Now this is where I'm at a loss and let me explain:

       1. The price of cable t.v. continues to go up so much and I never hear a public cry for justice from any large group of people. Cable is the reason we couldn't afford cable when we moved to Macon. We had purchased cable in Dothan at a low entrance fee of $60 dollars a month and by the time we left it was nearing the $180 mark and our services had not changed, customer service was terrible, and we had to sign a two year contract, which they wouldn't let us out of when we moved, so we had to pay for cable that someone else was watching several hundred miles away and we had no choice. I know my experience is not an outlier for those who have cable or satellite. But this is not the same with Netflix. If I hated it, I could just quit it today and walk away. If we moved, I could just transfer the services to my new address.

   2. Our cell phone bill is supposed to be around $80 a month, but let me say this very clearly....OUR CELL PHONE BILL IS NEVER $80 A MONTH...NEVER. And our services never get better, customer service gets worse, the bills become more and more confusing, etc. But once again, I don't hear the public cry for justice and I don't see little snippets of rage on Yahoo or anywhere else. I do hear unhappy people talk, but we are all trapped behind our two year contracts and the nonexistent dream of ...."someday it will be like it said it would be..." And once again, I say this is nothing like our Netflix experience. If the fee is changed, then we get a clear reason for the change and it usually means the services to us have increased and things are so much better. Not so with Verizon or any other behemoth of a cell phone company.

   3. The price of a movie ticket is too expensive. There is just so many things wrong with it costing near $30 for two people to go see one, 1, una movie that we would have to pay for again in order to watch it again and share a Coke and a popcorn. Yet, I only see fees increasing with little to no grumbling, complaining, mass outrage, etc. I don't see emails in my inbox from the CEO's of film companies, movie outlets, etc begging for my forgiveness because things have gotten out of hand. I only see the prices going up and the movies getting shorter and me wanting to see them less and less. Netflix is nothing like this.

  I could keep naming examples, but I will save you from that. I just don't get the outrage and almost cataclysmic public backlash. Why? Maybe someday I'll understand. Maybe.

Continuing to try and understand the world around me,

  David




Monday, December 19, 2011

2011 Foot Locker Cross Country Champoinship-Review and Results.

  This year's Foot Locker XC Championship races were some of the best they've ever had. The boy's race was anyone's race for about a half mile, but then quickly became a battle of human limits between the two stars of high school cross country running (Edward Cheserek and Futsum Zeinasellassi), both who were born in Africa, but have matriculated to schools here in the USA. And the girl's race was one of the gutsiest races I've ever watched thanks to the front-running antics of a very courageous and feisty high school runner named Erin Finn who didn't win, but gave everything I've ever seen given in a race.
  The runner that I was rooting for the most was little Grace Tinkey from Macon, Georgia. I helped coach her for three years along with several other more-gifted coaches that I learned a lot from. She came in 6th in this year's race, which bested her 14th place finish last year. But for the majority of the race, she was holding steady in the front pack in third.I know she will be back next year and I'm going to be pulling for her again. She deserves the best and am so proud of the runner and person she has become.
    I watched the races from the comforts of my couch and living room, but did not stay seated long during either race. During a regular race that my runners are in, I spend each race running to the mile marks watching their progress and cheering for them as they overcome themselves and in the end overcome their highest expectations. I missed running around during the race, so I instead ran around the couch and cheered the runners on. Lady and Jack quickly grew tired of my antics and went upstairs to sleep, but I did not let that bother me. But I will let you decide what kind of races they were. Watch the races. They are amazing.




The Boys Results




The Girls Results

Happy Running,

         David

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Some Weekend Humor



   As I've posted here before, I am surrounded by hundreds of students everyday and someone is always saying something that is really funny. It is often hard to keep my composure and sometimes, I don't do a very good job at this. Somethings are just too funny or too hard to ignore.Here are some of the latest. Enjoy.

I want to watch NCIS so bad right now.

I really want the new Zelda game for Christmas. I'm not too sure what I'll do if I don't get it.

  After answering a question about college computer labs that came from out of nowhere during a lecture about igneous rocks. This was one of the responses:
  
   They had computers when you were in college, Mr. Dark? 
   Yes. Computers came out in the 70's. 
   I thought you were older than that. 
   I'm only 32. 
   Oh.

Another response:

    Mr. Dark, why are you talking about Apple computers? Do they even make them anymore?
    Yes, Apple is the company that makes everything from iPods, iPhones, and all the Mac books. That's why all iPods or anything else "i" comes with a sticker that looks like an apple.
   Oh! That is what that sticker means. Now it all makes sense.
    Yes. Yes. Glad I can help.



I am so tired of boys right now. I have like 9 boys who are like in love with me right now. It is so exhausting.

Mr. Dark, if you walk barefoot outside is it true that you get parasites?
Only in really dirty situations, places where there are livestock on occasion, or third world countries.
What about here at school?
I would probably say no.
But that's not what so in so said.
He should check his info. 
So, I will get parasites by not wearing shoes....

  I had each of my students write with pencil for their exams because most use use their pen to make modern art not answer exam questions. Often times, I need my Captain Crunch Decoder Ring to figure out what is written. Please know that there was instant gnashing of teeth and grumbling straight out of the Egyptian wilderness.And then came this conversation.

Mr. Dark, is a mechanical pencil a pencil?
Yes.
So, I can use it?
Yes, of course.
(To everyone)Make sure each of you have a pencil. You're not allowed to use a pen.
So, I can't use a mechanical pencil.
A mechanical pencil is a pencil.
But you said we had to use a pencil.
I did.
So, is a mechanical pencil a pencil
Yes.

(Repeat the above several times with several different students who sat quietly staring at you while you had the above conversation.)

Want to know what I did my Spanish speech today, Mr. Dark?
Sure.
I talked about Uruguay (pronounced as Urgay by this student) in Spanish today.
I think it is pronounced Uruguay.
Whatever, I'm not good at that Spanish stuff anyway...

Hope you're having a wonderful Saturday and Sunday.

Happy Reading,

    David

Monday, December 12, 2011

A NaNoWriMo Update



   So November is over and so is the 2011 Edition of NaNoWriMo. On a national and international level, it was a grand success, but close to home it was an abysmal failure. I was even a member of a NaNoWriMo club here at the school I teach at and two of the members wrote even more than they needed to, but truth be told, I did not even come close to winning. To be blunt, I lost. Big Time. I was like LeBron in the last NBA Finals, except I didn't look good doing it and I didn't get to keep my sponsor (my imaginary sponsor). The goal was to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. I didn't even get close.

   Writing takes time and in November it seemed like my time dried up faster than rubbing alcohol. I started off strong. I began writing a story that has been sitting in my head for awhile. I titled it, The Patriarch, and wrote about 3000 words and then came to a place where thinking time was needed. The whole story and the plot of it needed to be boiled down and dissected to see what was I going to really say and why was I going to try and say it. Several days went by and not a another word had been written and I found myself about 8000 words behind, so I panicked and went to a story that has made an appearance here at HTH, A Workman's Dream, and wrote on it some more, but found myself asking the same questions of myself. And once again, I found myself far, far below where I was supposed to be with my word count. I, then, looked up from this and it was already November 18th. And this is where things really fell apart. I then made myself a grand plan for my greatest wordy comeback and Fall Break was when I was going to do so. However, life and everything else had much different plans for me as usual.

  We got out for Thanksgiving Break (Fall Break) on the 18th. I was going to try and write like a crazy man or Jack Kerouac for the next 9 or so days. That plan lasted until 4:00 pm when I arrived home to survey my home and my list that I had made for us to get ready for my family to come for Thanksgiving. I still had some hope in this plan until Saturday when the grocery shopping alone took 4 hours. Then the plan went to the extreme back-burner, but I was still believing that I could just let both stories mull around in my brain and then when my family had packed up and left, then I would just practice some literary regurgitation. But as you can see, is not what happened.

  So...long story short is this. I was a participant of the 2011 edition of NaNoWriMo. I was supposed to write a 50,000 word novel. I wrote around 15,000 words on two separate stories. I will finish them, but they need time. One of my many faults is that I need to see the purpose in doing something. This sounds like it should be a strength, but trust me, it is a fault. I wanted to write 50,000 words. I even tried to do so, but they just wouldn't come. I wanted to really jump head first into the "literary abandon", but just couldn't do it. I guess for now, I will just take comfort in that Norman Maclean was 70 when he published, A River Runs Through It, and it is one of the best books I have ever read. It was his first and almost his only. I will write a novel, but it is going to take some time. The words have to be more than just words. The plot has to be more than just something I am rewriting that I have read or seen elsewhere.

  I will participate in the 2012 edition of NaNoWriMo, but think I'd better get planning now in order to have my brain ready this time. You should too.

David

Saturday, December 10, 2011

2011 Foot Locker Cross Country Championship


Watch live streaming video from flcc_sd at livestream.com


 Not too much to say. I coach cross country. Have been doing so for the past six years now. Love the sport. Think it can get no better. Have an ex-runner in this race. Coached her at the last school I worked at. Wish her (Grace Tinkey) the best of luck and Providence in the race. This race is very important. Whomever ends up racing here usually ends up being the next pro runners that make their way onto the national and international scene. Ryan Hall, Meb K., Jorre Torres, Alan Webb, Kara Goucher, Dathan Ritzenhein, etc all raced here and have gone on to become larger than life and to have great impact on the running community at large. It is the biggest XC race in the country and the only true national championship decided by the participants performances alone. Watch the race! Watch the future of running. I am.

Happy Racing,
  David

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

The 1st Annual Earn Your Turkey...Trot Recap and Results




   Ever since I have gotten back into running, I have really wanted to participate in what is known as a Turkey Trot. A Turkey Trot is a race held on Thanksgiving Day that can be a variety of distances, but it usually is a 10k. The most popular of these is the venerable Manchester Road Race and the Atlanta Half Marathon. However, I have never been in the right place.
  
   So, I decided to do something about it and made the bold decision to host my own Turkey Trot. Once the decision was made all I needed was a course and some runners. My family had come into town for the Thanksgiving week and were up for a run, so they gave me my needed racers. And my wife Mel had charted out a pretty good 3 mile course around our neighborhood that didn't include the things that normally make their way onto a David Dark certified course (traffic, hills galore, shady individuals, vacant, condemned homes,  stray dogs, alleys, etc.), so I took some of that course and created a scenic, spectator-friendly, mostly flat (one big hill) , mostly traffic-free 1.5 mile course. So, now I had my course. All I needed now was for Thanksgiving morning to arrive and bring with it some good weather.
    Thanksgiving morning arrived with some gorgeous Fall weather and I woke up at around 8 am ready to officiate and race my very first Turkey Trot. I loaded up a gallon ziplock with White Lilly ( White Lilly if you would like to sponsor next year's race, just call) flour, laced up my Nike Air Pegasus +28's, grabbed my favorite nephew, Eddy IV, stretched, and headed out the door. We jogged the race course and marked the course at every turn with the flour. The course was now marked and we were very warmed up.
    The race was supposed to begin by 9:30 am, but many of the participants hadn't arrived by then. So, we waited!The weather for the race could not have been any better. By 9:45, everyone (11.5 participants!) had arrived, stretched, received race instructions, and lined up at the start where I explained the route again and told them I expected a clean race because my sister in law and my father were already jockeying for position with a little elbow action. I jumped to the back of the racers and gave them a three command start and we all took off.
   Emily and Eddy IV took early leads and stayed in the lead till we reached the first incline and Emily backed off, but Eddy IV continued to the top where he tapered off a little. I was running in third place followed by the other racers. I took the lead at around a half mile, but Eddy IV and his mother were close on my heals followed by Eddy III and Emily. We all hit the killer hill that is Buford Place and all of our paces really went down, but we all showed vast amounts of courage as we conquered the hill or mountain depending on how you look at it or where you are from. (It just may be 100 feet taller than the highest point in Florida.)
   At the halfway point of the race (this is hearsay and would not hold up in court according to L&O), I was in the lead, followed by Eddy IV, Amy II, Emily, Eddy III, Mel, Mom, Dad, and then the peloton: Forrest, Amy, and Celia. And this is where the race fell apart. The race director and his helper did not put an arrow pointing through Hines Terrace and expected people to keep going straight, but alas they did not. Places 1-3 raced the entire course. Places 4-5 cut through the Vineville Baptist parking lot and then came out on Hines Terrace. Places 6-11 thought they were supposed to turn (also hearsay) onto Hines Terrace and did so.
   Overall, the 1st Annual Earn Your Turkey...Trot was a grand success. I will be hosting another one next year on the same course, but with better markings. And maybe extending it to be a full-fledged 5k. And hopefully, we will again finish to a wonderful breakfast of brown sugar sausage, french toast casserole, and all you can drink juice and coffee like we did this year! First place received the job of being the grand marshal of the Thanksgiving dinner line and Eddy IV won those honors. He finished in a time of 13:52. and the other results are as follows:

Females:

  1st place female age group 5-8: Emily Dark
  1st place female age group 20-24: Celia Bass
  1st place female age group 25-29: Melissa Dark and Zygote
  2nd Place female age group 25-29: Amy Bass
  1st place female age group 35-39: Amy Dark 
  1st place female 55-59: Susan Dark

Males:

   1st place male age group 9-14: Eddy Dark IV
   1st place male age group 25-29: Forrest Bass
   1st place male age group 30-34: David Dark
   1st place male age group 35-39: Eddy Dark III 
   1st place age group 60-64: Ed Dark, Jr.
 

Eddy IV making a very brave case for 2nd place followed by Amy Dark, my brother's wife, who would come in 3rd place overall, but 1st female finisher.


Emily Dark showing us that running the tangents during a race is an old wives tale and that having fun during a race outweighs a medal any day of the week. She is followed by my brother Eddy who is looking strong as he rounds the bend about a half mile into the race.


Emily making a strong surge towards the finish line and a very hot breakfast of French Toast casserole.


Happy Racing,

   David

Sunday, December 4, 2011

A New Frame of Mind



      Jack is tired. It has been a rough and very busy several months for us all; especially Jack. Life has swallowed him whole and spit him out. He is weighed down by all the cares of the family. So many worries, so little time. And no rest for the weary. When he watched, A Few Good Men, and Jack Nicholson shouted to him that he couldn't handle the truth, he shook his head in agreement. He hates the truth. And like Jack, the staff here at Hines Terrace Herald is tired too. The world has gotten us down. We just don't know if we are coming or going. Seems like every facet of life has gotten busier and busier and we lay down at night exhausted, but not finished. And then comes the dreaming these strange dreams about being chased and not being able to move or showing up to a race and everyone has already taken off and you are the last to start and you run and run and never catch up with even the slowest participants. So it has comes time for an A&E style intervention for the staff at HTH and we have a clear choice to make.

  We know the stats. Page views aren't high and we know why. It is hard to read the same post thats been sitting there for weeks. To be honest, the amount of posts have been in a steady state of decline since May. June and July maxed out at 5, August and September maxed out at 6, and the writers here at HTH went into hiding, but managed to churn out a measly five posts for two months. If there were money involved, heads would roll, as the saying goes, but there isn't. And all of our excuses just don't sound adequate. And to top it off, if I did just go out and say a simple, "I'm sorry", I feel you, my dear readers, would just look at me and say, "Sorry's not enough this time....".

    So, we have had staff meeting overload and spent hours upon hours discussing all the things that would have better been left on a bullet point memo and we have come to some office-wide conclusions:

    1. We love having this blog and writing for it.

    2. We really desire to keep the blog up to date.

    3. We have set our turnout expectations too high.(171 posts in two years. 92 in the current year alone.)

    4. We feel very bad and completely rotten when we have to let the blog sit on the bottom of our to-do list.

    5. We have come up with several good resolutions:

  • The staff here at HTH is going to do our very best to churn out ONE post a week, no matter what.
  • Some weeks we will do multiple posts, but we will pull out all the stops to guarantee one post a week. It is the best we can do. It is the least we can do.
     So, I realize you guys may not want to know the inner workings of things here at HTH, but we really appreciate our followers and don't want to lose them because life gets so busy. Thanks for reading. We hope you keep it up and leave us a comment from time to time to let us know how we are doing.


David

Monday, November 28, 2011

A Monday for All Mondays



    It is Monday. It is THE Monday after Thanksgiving Break.

    It is Monday. It is THE Monday after a 9 day vacation.

    It is Monday. It is raining and the wind is blowing. In the words of Forrest Gump, "Little bitty stingin' rain... and big ol' fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath. Shoot, it even rained at night..."

    It is Monday. And my family is long gone.

    It is Monday. And Christmas Break is 3 weeks away.

    It is Monday and all of life is needing to be done. (Again!)

    So I leave you and me with a quote and remind us both that work came before the Fall:

“Good human work honors God's work. Good work uses no thing without respect, both for what it is in itself and for its origin. It uses neither tool nor material that it does not respect and that it does not love. It honors nature as a great mystery and power, as an indispensable teacher, and as the inescapable judge of all work of human hands. It does not dissociate life and work, or pleasure and work, or love and work, or usefulness and beauty. To work without pleasure or affection, to make a product that is not both useful and beautiful, is to dishonor God, nature, the thing that is made, and whomever it is made for. This is blasphemy: to make shoddy work of the work of God. But such blasphemy is not possible when the entire Creation is understood as holy and when the works of God are understood as embodying and thus revealing His spirit. (pg. 312, Christianity and the Survival of Creation)”



― Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays of Wendell Berry


     
Happy Monday,

   David

Monday, November 7, 2011

NaNoWriMo...What?

"


   A couple of months ago, I heard several of my runners talking during a warm up and they kept saying one of the oddest words over and over, but I couldn't quite hear it. So, I sped up a little and tried to listen in and they kept saying the word, "nanowrimo". I worked up the courage and asked them what the heck they were saying and they said, nanowrimo, you know, nanowrimo..." I let them know that I had no idea what that meant and they told me. Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month. And I was still clueless. So, as usual, I pretended I knew what was going on, sped up again,  and then waited till later and looked it up on the old, googler. And as usual, the googler came through and all I had to do was type "nanowrimo" in the ole' googler box.



   NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. Each November the folks at, The Office of Letters and Light, host something that has the catch phrase of being, 30 days and nights of literary abandon. Each November, since 1999, The Office of Letters and Lights, has sponsored a novel writing month. The first year found it in San Francisco with just 21 participants. Now, thirteen years later, the event is international with over 200,000 people participating. And there has been many famous manuscripts to come out of the program. The most recently being, Sara Gruen's, Water for Elephants.

   The Office of Letters and Light (OLL) is a Berkeley-based nonprofit that produces writing events where children and adults find the inspiration, encouragement, and structure they need to achieve their creative potential. OLL's programs are web-enabled challenges with vibrant real-world components, designed to foster self-expression while building on local and global levels. (That bit was from their website. don't want you guys to start comparing me to James Fry or anything.) The three biggest events are NaNoWriMo, Young Writer's Program, and April's Script Frenzy.

   I love the idea behind this challenge. Even though, it sounds very stupid, the hardest part of writing is the actually act of sitting down and writing. It is not the planning or thinking about the story, but it is the putting of pen to paper. That is what NaNoWriMo will be to me. It will be a force making me write. I have about 20 story ideas and have written the beginnings to even more, but they just sit inside my beloved Moleskine journals. Now, we have this event and I have to write.

    So, I have been meaning to post this blog for several days, but a virus from the hot place (or from someone posing as the NY police department) attacked our computer with a vengeance, my students turned in their Insect Projects which gave me hours, and hours of work, and about a hundred other little things. Hope you enjoy. Maybe you could join the challenge. As of today, you're only about 12,000 words behind. I guess that's nothing if you write like Thomas Wolfe.

David

Monday, October 31, 2011

May I Have Your Attention Please!

I know this is old news.

I know I'm a day late and several dollars short.

I know you've seen this already courtesy of a much cooler blog: Greener Grass

But I wanted to share it with you guys anyway.

So, here it is




Hope you enjoy for a second time, or maybe fourteenth...

David

Friday, October 14, 2011

On Top of the World, or Happy Friday!







   Being a teacher is not the easiest thing for one's self-esteem. Most days you come home, avoid the mirror, and try to forget the brutally honest things kids tell you about yourself or ask. You try to increase the depth of your skin each year, hoping that you're have gotten a little older and verbal statements don't get to you. It's not that they are trying to be rude, but more like they are just really good at it and no one has told them to be a little more modest with their gifts. It's not an odd thing to be told you should have done something more meaningful with your life, or that you're balding, or that you look really good for 48, etc. It's also not an odd thing to wonder those same things until you realize that you're only 31 and are doing something very meaningful with your life. However, some days you hear a student say something about you and it erases everything and yesterday was that day.

   I had left the door open after 7th period and the kids where their usual, overly loud selves and out of the roar, I heard two students say:

  "Man, everyone is always is saying good-bye to Mr. Dark..."

  "It's because he's so boss..."

  "Yeah, he is so boss..."

So, that is that. I am sure those same kids had just said I was bald or that that I have a pimple on the right side of my face, but for 1.2 seconds, I was thought to be boss. I'm not even exactly sure what that means, but if its good enough for Springsteen, its good enough for me.

Happy Friday,

    David

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Throwing the Yellow Dodder--Snippet 10

* This is a continuation of a work of fiction.

....He knew why I ticked and why I was really smiling." Mable replied having completely ignored Lucy's comment, knowing she hadn't really meant it and Lucy was glad she had.

  " I think I know just what you mean, Mrs. Mable. I took my boy down to the coast last year and it was something we should have done a long, long time ago. It was just so beautiful, Mrs. Mable. It was my first time down to the coast and it almost knocked the breath out of me. All that pretty, blue water and white sand spread out before you like Thanksgiving dinner. It was so beautiful that I had to hide a couple of tears from my boy, but the strangest thing happened. As soon as I saw that big water coming and going, I wanted to share it with Melvin. It was as if those little, blue waves were bringing all things back to me as they came into the shore. Now, I know what you're thinking. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would I want to share something so beautiful and peaceful with a rat behind like Melvin? And I agree with ya'. I hate that man and all that he's done to me and Clive, but I must be pure crazy because something inside me still loves that bastard and I can't seem to kill it no matter how hard or cold I try to make myself."

   And as she spoke, Mable listened, but all she could see and feel was the cool wind blowing off the lake and it was as if she were eighteen again and her sweet William was beside her and they were holding hands so tight that her fingers began to hurt, but she didn't want to let go and knew he wouldn't. He kept smiling at her with the biggest dumb grin his bright face could make and she knew why. He was hers for as long as she wanted to be and they were on there way to see the whole wide world through the small square and rectangle windows of his Ford coupe. Every mile unfolded before them and was theirs for the taking. All they had to do was open wide their eyes and hold onto each other tighter and it would be theirs. Driving over the edge of the world only to see it open up before you like nothing has or ever will again. Red steel moving down the gray concrete road like a blurry fog and not stopping until the black tires felt the sand beneath them and the chrome hood felt the salt from sea breeze settle onto it.

    Mable knew the coast that Lucy was talking about. William had taken her there on their honeymoon. It was what she dreamed of so often when she wandered into the restless sleep that only older people knew of.  Sand so white it hurt your eyes when you looked down at it; millions of crystal grains stretched out further than your imagination and as old as the earth. Heated and melted deep down in the core of the great earth and pushed to the surface pure as spring grasses. Cool to the feet in the early morning and late afternoon. Mable stretched her feet out of her chairs as she wished so badly to move her toes in the cool sand digging little toe-shaped holes deeper and deeper until her feet were covered and at rest. Mable longed to race William to the water and dive in and feel as if all that bad about life was being taken out to sea and all that was good was left to sit on the beach in the thin layer of clear water that covered the shore. She squeezed her eyes tight and tried to feel the waves push her down into the bottom and then pull her up and then push her out to deeper water. She opened her eyes quickly because this is always the way it went and it always went poorly for her daydream. She would spring from the bottom and rush to the top only to see William swimming away from her and she could never catch him or shout loud enough to get him to turn around. It had not been that way. Time had changed the dream and she couldn't change it back. He had left her behind and she was left to drift out to sea with all that evil in the world and in her...


Hope you enjoy,

David






Friday, September 23, 2011

The First Day of Fall





          "To enrich the earth I have sowed clover and grass

to grow and die. I have plowed in the seeds

of winter grains and various legumes,

their growth to be plowed in to enrich the earth.

I have stirred into the ground the offal

and the decay of the growth of past seasons

and so mended the earth and made its yield increase.

All this serves the dark. Against the shadow

of veiled possibility my workdays stand

in a most asking light. I am slowly falling

into the fund of things. And yet to serve the earth,

not knowing what I serve, gives a wideness

and a delight to the air, and my days

do not wholly pass. It is the mind's service,

for when the will fails so do the hands

and one lives at the expense of life.

After death, willing or not, the body serves,

entering the earth. And so what was heaviest

and most mute is at last raised up into song."

- Wendell Berry


  I've been waiting for this day since May,
David

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Why Do You Write?




   The author, Laura Hillenbrand, who wrote Seabiscuit and Unbroken, was recently asked what would happen if she wasn't allowed to write or couldn't write and this was her reply,

  "I think I would perish. I can't imagine not having this thing I still have (being able to write). Other than my husband, I've lost just about everything else. It is tremendously important to my emotional health that I be able to write. I can't be social (due to my health). I can't be out there. The books are my way of communicating with everyone else...."

Why do you write?

David

Friday, September 16, 2011

The Robber Bridegroom--A Book Review

 


  I am no fan of fairy tales. I know what this makes me. I just don't like how predictable they all are. You know what is going to happen even before you open the front cover. I also know that is the point. The fantasy of it all is that you can put yourself into one of the roles and then instead of some other princess or prince, it is you now and the story is your own.  I can see the joy in that. However, I was born a kill-joy and that is not my fantasy, but maybe it is also because I'm a guy. We don't want to be Prince Charming, but rather, we want to be Braveheart.

  However, this story, The Robber Bridegroom, is no regular fairy tale. Eudora Welty takes the plot of a normal fairy tale and she reworks it into something that was interesting and a joy to read all while not being wholly predictable. She does this using a cast of very odd, grotesque, and unique characters. She also sets the story in Mississippi and in Louisiana. Her princess is the daughter of a wealthy cotton farmer and an evil, ugly step-mother. Her prince is a thief who terrorizes people traveling on the Natchez Trace. Her other characters are human, but don't seemed to be because of deformities or other very real oddities. Welty also allows seemingly unbelievable things to occur right out in the open and you find yourself as the reader wanting to believe them and convincing yourself that, "truth really is much stranger and fascinating than fiction". And the way it is written allows one to feel completely wrapped up in the story and wanting several different story lines to unfold, but you are unsure about which way the story is going to go.

  What I liked best about the book was how the characters all evoke a definite emotion from you. You hate the step-mother. You both dislike and feel for the naive father. You cheer for the robber bridegroom, but also despise some of his actions, and ignore his profession. You laugh at the side characters, like Goat and Little Harp, as well as hate them. And lastly, you feel bad for Rosamond, Welty's princess, but at the same time wonder at her actions and find some of them annoying at times.  

    I would highly suggest this book. It is a good, fast, light read. It is also entertaining, which is one of the purposes for literature, right? I have read several reviews of the book on the Net and they all say that the story is stale and the characters are one-dimensional and static. I disagree, but what do I really know. I would encourage you to read this book through the eyes of an amateur reader. I think it would make the few moments you have to read before bed maybe the most enjoyable of your day. I think the reviewers forgot that Welty is a master storyteller and this is a great, original work of fiction.

David

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Shin Splints--A Real Pain

     In the twelve or so years that I have been a runner, been around runners, coached runners, and paid attention to the sport of running, I have heard, seen, and experienced a lot of running-related injuries. However, no injury has been more prevalent than that of someone telling me they had to quit running or had to rest because of shin splints. I have never had shin splints (Knock on all the wood in The Smokey Mountains National Park), but have heard and seen how painful they are. I have seen them sideline even the hardiest of running folk. Shin splints can be a runner's worst nightmare.
     Whenever, I have a runner who gets shin splints or friend that has them, two questions always arise from our little conversations and they are: "How do I make the pain go away?", and, "How do I prevent this from ever happening again?". The answers are very simple, but many do not want to follow the advice given. So, this blog post will be some advice mixed in with all you have ever wanted to know about shins and shin splints for those who have never heard about them, for those who have heard about them, but wondered what they were, and those who lie awake at night trying to think of something else.
What is a shin?  
     Your leg is split into two main zones: the thigh and the shin. (I know it is much more complex, but we're keeping things simple.) Your thigh zone is on top and your shin zone is on the bottom. Shin splints occur in the shins. You can have them in both legs at the same time or you may only experience them in a single leg.
What exactly is a shin splint?
Shin splints is pain on the front of the lower leg below the knee and above the ankle. It can hurt over the shin-bone (tibia) or over the muscles on either side of the shinbone. Shin splints is also called shin pain.


Why am I getting shin splints?

   I hear this so often and the reasons are always the same. The usual cause is that the person went from doing no exercise or moving around to trying to make themselves run for miles and they usually do this on hard, concrete pavement. Well, here are some very common reasons why you are going through such pain:

  1. Flat feet – most common cause under this category.
  2. Over-pronation – generally a result of having flat feet; occurs when foot and ankle roll inward, causing a demanding stretch in the muscles of your lower legs.
  3. Tight or stiff lower leg muscles.
  4. Poor running form – leaning forward too much, leaning backwards too much, running with your toes pointed too far out, landing on the balls of your feet and not pushing off through your toes after each stride (too much ‘babying’ of the heel to toe transition).
  5. Exercising on uneven surfaces.
  6. Trying to do too much too soon.
  7. Running, walking or exercising on hard surfaces too frequently.
  8. Working out in inappropriate shoes or shoes that have lost their support/cushioning.
  9. Too much uphill or downhill running.

How can I get rid of the pain?

  The easiest answer is to rest and ice your shins. You should ice them for 15 minute increments and then stretch slowly and easily. It would also help to wear compression socks or get them wrapped by a trainer. And you MUST take it easy.The biggest reason why you get shin splints is that most people ignore the importance of stretching before and after you walk or run. Remember also that it helps to stretch "warm" muscles. These can be acquired by doing a short warm up lap. And here is a diagram of some helpful stretches: 




   The biggest thing that I have learned over the years about injuries is that we all try to over do it everytime we walk out the door trying to maximize every workout. However, this is a terrible idea. Your body can really wear down overtime. Everytime you use new muscles or extend old ones, your muscle tissues acquire little tiny tears that take time to heal. A good workout schedule should include mostly easy days and even a full day off. To help you understand, Olympian Ryan Hall who holds the America record for the half marathon, usually runs races by keeping a 4:20-4:30 miles, but on his easy runs, he keeps the pace at 7:00-7:30. If you do the math, that means he is running a full three minutes slower or more! So, what does that say about your easy days. If an Olympian can take it easy, why can't we?

Hope this post was helpful and stay clear from the shin splints!

David

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Lost Decade


   "A slender acquaintance with the world must convince every man that actions, not words, are the true criterion of the attachment of friends."

      George Washington


     A cool, September morning ten years ago, found me rushing to get to ready to go to my 9 o'clock class; Twentieth Century Europe. It was one of those crisp, pre-Fall mornings when you open the windows and pretend Fall is already there. I had spent the morning running in the early morning fog and dew and it seemed like all was right. I got to my apartment, showered, dressed, and was eating breakfast watching the news when everything became not all right. I saw both planes fly into the towers and lost my desire to eat. I walked to my class dazed and zombie-like; what had I just watched? No good answers came to mind. (It seems I am still asking and no good answers have still come up.)
  
    I sat in the upstairs, lone classroom of the Mercer History Department, and acted like I was listening to Dr. Good answer meaningless questions about how the genocide in Darfur was not like the Armenian genocide. A quiet girl in the back asked if we could turn on a t.v. or at least talk about what had just happened. Dr. Good told her no and his reasoning was that he had wasted a whole day on the Oklahoma City bombings and in the end it was just the work of a fringe lunatic and he wasn't going to waste another one. So, we continued to talk about genocide and how they aren't all the same. I still disagree with about everything that was said during those wasted 75 minutes, but now that ten years have passed, I am glad he held us in there; protecting us from what we were about to have to walk out into: a new world where there terror became terrifying and evil took off it's mask and it's face was so much more scarier and worse than that: real.

   The rest of the day is a blur except that at 3 o'clock we had an assembly and I don't remember who spoke or what they said, but what I do remember is what another professor said to me. I sat next to Dr. Klingelhofer and told him how happy I was that I didn't have to get up and say anything and Dr. Klingelhofer told me something I will never forget. He turned sideways in his seat and stared me straight in the eye and said,

     "David, you are a true student of history, right?"
      "Yes, sir. I try to be."
      "I know you are. What happened today is bad, but our country has been through far worse than this. Tomorrow will come and we will be in it and it will need us. Hope is an empty vessel with no one to believe in it. Do you understand?"
       "Yes, sir. Thanks."...

  A full decade has passed and I still wondered and think of it all. It is weird to think that there are children who are walking around that this is all they have known, a country that is till trying to rise from the ash heap, but too irrationally civil and tolerant. The story of the great phoenix of antiquity never tells us how long it took to rise. We have forgotten how to wait. We have forgotten the silver lining in suffering. We have forgotten the taste of hard-earned laurels. We forget that the Revolutionary War lasted 8 years and we came within a fraction of losing. We forget that the Great Depression lasted longer than a year or even ten, that WWII lasted 7 and millions died and that the Civil War lasted 4 and hundreds of thousands of our own countrymen and women died. And that Pearl Harbor was just as frightening or actually even more since a whole nation attacked us, not just a faction from several. 

   I stood at a football game on Friday night and watched a multitude of red, white, and blue balloons and I wept a little. I take this country for granted everyday. I am complacent in my overwhelming freedoms. I don't want it to fly away like those balloons because I was too foolish and let it slide through my fingers. I don't want the next 10 to slip past like these last 10. I know freedom isn't free. I just wish it would cost me and I know that is a scary thought.

  Thank you men and women who protect me and this precious freedom everyday. I wish this didn't sound so cliche because I don't deserve it. You do. You have earned it.

   "We have too many high-sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them."

                          Abigail Adams

David

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Some Hump Day Humor




  I don't usually talk much about my students, but I feel we all need a little laugh. Or at least I do. I usually refrain from this type of blog for a multitude of reasons, but some things are too good to keep to myself, so here are some things that my little earlobes have absorbed as of late:

  Two girls talking before class a few days ago:

"Oh, my god, how was your trip to the mountains?"
"It was AAmazing.."
"Where did you like go?"
"My fam always goes to Helen and I just love it."
"Oh my god, did you say Helen? I just love it there!"
"So do I, it is like my little piece of Germany right here!".....

A 7th grade boy talking to another 7th grade boy at his locker:

"Just look at my lunch, I can't believe my mom did this to me."
"Wow...a juice box."
"I know, it makes me feel so childish. It's not like I'm 12 anymore."
"I know right."...

I noticed a sleepy student this morning:

"You okay, Weston? You look a little tired."
"I'm exhausted."
"Rough night, last night?"
"Yeah, had to stay up all the way to 9:30 to finish some homework and my family got lost on the way home from the beach and I didn't get sleep till 10 on Monday."
"Sounds like a pretty rough patch."
"I know, I don't know how much longer I keep going on hardly any sleep."...

A 7th grade girl this morning at the lockers:

"Oh my gosh, has anyone had the oatmeal from McDonald's?"
A multitude of "yeahs"..
"Don't you guys think it is life-changing?"
"Yeah, definitely"....

And some regular questions as of late:

"Do you and your wife, like dissect things for fun at your house?"

"Do you sleep in a bow tie?"

"Do you just wear those glasses for fun? 'Cause I see you at cross country practice and you don't have glasses on."

"Do you and your wife like find things around your house to look at under the microscope just for fun?"

"Mr. Dark, did you know Garth Brooks was a progressive?"
"A progressive? Like Teddy Roosevelt?"
"No, like a liberal."
"Nope, I didn't know that."
"Yeah, he is a big liberal. I just don't know how a guy who sings, "Friends in Low Places", could be a liberal. Do you?"
"I'm not sure Ive ever thought about it like that before."
"Well you better. Before long all these country stars are going to be liberal progressives."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you just watch."....

   Well, I hope you are all making it through this Wednesday and finding something to smile about. If you can't, just look around.

David

Monday, August 29, 2011

A Change of Allegiance

   Mascots are a funny thing. Not funny in that laugh out loud way, but I guess some of them are that too, but what I mean is funny, in that strange, hard to explain way. I have a feeling that boys will understand this post a little more than girls will, but hopefully everyone will. It is really more about a feeling than something that is tangible.

    I feel that most of us have been taught how important loyalty is. Each of have talked to till we are all bright, blue in the face about acting unselfishly and how the "team" comes first. We have also been shown too many examples of the opposite of this and everyone telling us about these examples of disloyalty usually has on a very serious face and looks very disappointed and saddened. We have all been told that and made to believe that there is no "I" in team, but then we are patted on the back and told to, play our best, or, run our own race, or, show us what you've got to contribute, and then thrown into the game. This is where things get a little confusing. Then we add age and experience and things go from blurry to completely murky. Let me try to explain using my own life.

  When I was brought into this world, there only existed three possible mascots, I was born a Yankee, a Sooner, and a Dolphin. I didn't exactly know this, but it was something I would grow to understand and the teams would become apart of me. Things were easy then, but everything was about to change. My understandings of loyalty and allegiances were about to be stretched, warped, and changed.

 When I was a wee lad, my first sporting experience was that I was on the Lions t-ball team and yet, I was also a Tavares Elementary Patriot. I could keep it straight then though. They didn't seem connected. I was a Patriot on Monday through Friday, but Saturday mornings were reserved for being a Lion. And this stayed the same for the next several years. During this time, I also was a Buccaneer, Raider, Athletic, Cardinal, a Philly and numerous other teams, but I could still keep it pretty straight because I was still a Patriot on the weekdays and the others on Saturday morning. However, I could tell things were about to get a little confusing because my brother attended the local high school where he was a Bulldog. So, I could still keep it straight, but my allegiances were starting to feel a little spread out. I was to be a Patriot on Monday-Friday afternoon, on Friday night, I was Bulldogs, Saturday morning I was a Buc (or numerous other teams), and on Saturday afternoon I was Florida Gator, and on Sunday I was a Dolphin. Then came my 4th Grade year and things began to get a little weird.



  In my fourth grade year, my parents took me out school, brought me home, and for the next nine years, I was homeschooled. On Monday-Friday, I was without a mascot, which was fine with me, but I still had my Friday night team (Bulldogs), my Saturday morning teams, the Florida Gators and Oklahoma Sooners, and the Dolphins. And this scenario went on for many years and I got to feel very comfortable with my allegiances. There was only one major change and that was my older brother finished his time as a Bulldog and became a Baylor Bear. I lost my weekday mascot, and my Friday night team, but my Saturdays were full to the brim and Sundays didn't change. Then came the 9th Grade and I began my journey into the Twilight Zone of mascots and team allegiances.



  At the beginning of my 9th Grade year, the homeschool group my family belonged to formed a basketball team, adopted a mascot, and I tried out and became a Hawk. I know had weekday and night mascot. As a Hawk, I learned how to live and die as a Hawk . I learned about the glory of winning, the complete agony of defeat,  and the all-encompassing anger of a bad call or a selfish player. And I also learned that I was always a Hawk, not just at practice or during a game. However, at this time, I was still a Gator, Sooner, and Bear on Saturday mornings. On Sundays, I was still a Dolphin, but a rift was growing between my dad (my Dolphin connection) and Dan Marino, not a real one, but a problem of perception, which was so much worse. It was also during this time that Orlando added the Magic and I became Florida Marlin fan 9997. It was really starting to get complicated, I was starting to get confused, and the amount of fan paraphanelia was really starting to grow.

  I, then graduated and didn't stray far and became a Bear at a different school, but at least the mascot didn't change. My life became a little less complicated because my Sundays were freed up (Marino and my dad broke up), I left my Hawk days behind, Shaq lied to me (well, not exactly to me, but all of Orlando), the Marlins won the World Series, but then promptly sold its whole team, and my brother graduated and left me to be the sole Bear. I was still a Sooner, a Yankee, and a Gator, but on the surface, I spent the next four years pushing forward as part of the very vicious and competitive "Orange and Black" attack.


     Four and a half years flies by when you are a Bear, and it is here that I learned that being a Bear was not just a four year commitment, but I was to be Bear until I passed from this life. It was also during my Mercer days, that I also grew into more of an anything Florida fan. I guess this was because Mercer was in Georgia and they hated all things Florida and loved all things weird and strange. So, I discovered that it was just nice to watch a Florida team win. It felt like I was winning, even when the Gators, Bears, Marlins, etc weren't.

   After graduation, I discovered, that what they had been telling me was true and that I still felt like a Bear. However, things were about to take a very complex turn. I got a job as a soccer and basketball coach at the now defunct Blue Lake Academy and I became an Eagle. I won as an Eagle, I lost as an Eagle, went into the home of an opponent and won, and had the reverse happen. But it was at BLA where I learned that you were always an Eagle, which made it weird because I was also still a Bear, but on Saturdays, I was still a Gator, and on other days, I was still a Marlin. Then things got very weird.



    I got my first teaching job and became a Providence Christian School Eagle, which was weird because I had been an Eagle already, but this was a different Eagle and in a much different place. And being a BLA Eagle was so much different that being a PCS Eagle, but I tried to make the best of it and not shout go BLA when I was supposed to be cheering for PCS and I succeded most of the time. And so, I spent the next three full years living and dying as an Eagle. There were weekday night basketball games, Friday night football games, and Saturday morning XC meets. I got my XC runners to cheer for PCS, run for PCS, and live for PCS. We conquered and soared over some courses and meets and then there were times when the eagle was shot down and we crashed, but we were always PCS Eagles. But I was also still routing for the Bears, Gators, Marlins, and many other teams and to make things more complex, I got married to a girl from Georgia who brought her team mascots with her and I, now through some odd connections was a Brave, a Bulldog (or Bulldawg as they say in GA), and a Hurricane. I was starting really wonder who I was really routing for and when I was suppose to be cheering for them. I thought that things couldn't get weirder or more murky, but boy was I wrong.



  My wife and I then moved to the Peach State and I became a Viking at a new school, which I never did understand. (Vikings were never "Christian" and are known for doing all things not popular in Christian circles.) Well, needless to say, I drank the Red and Black koolaid and left behind the Eagle life and fully became a Viking. I, once again had a whole week team. I, once again was told that I was always a Viking (or a Vic for those of you female types). I, once again had a XC and track team to train in the ways of Vikingness. And train the children in the Viking way I did with my whole heart and did so for three years. I bled read and black. I then got traded. That was last May. I kept my paraphnelia, but had to give it back because the red and black didn't bring me joy anymore. It just got too weird. I moved on and left the Vikings behind. I was to be a Viking no more.

   It was also during these three years that I gave up the Marlins. They had changed. I didn't recognize them anymore. We parted ways, we both needed our space. I replaced them with the Braves. My wife taught me how to tomahawk chop and who Chipper Jones was. She also made me glad that Javy Lopez was long gone. But I was also still a Gator, a Sooner, and a Mercer Bear.

    Two weeks ago, I started a new job and with that new job came a new mascot. I am now a Ram. I forget sometimes and things become a little awkward. Let me explain, last week my cross country was halfway through a speed workout and my little runners started cheering for the last ones coming in and they kept yelling, "Go Rams, finish strong Rams" and all I was thinking was, "Who the heck are the Rams, we aren't". but then I caught myself and realized that we were the Rams. I was a Ram. And then again, last Saturday, I counted to three and went to cheer with the team and I almost yelled, "FPD win", but caught myself and yelled, "CA Rams". I have only been a Ram for 13 days. so I'm still learning how to be one, but it seems like it is a good life to be a Ram.



  So, I say all of this to say that mascots are a funny thing. And I often forget who I'm supposed to be cheering for because I have held allegiances to so many different teams. Do you ever get confused? Do you ever wonder how you can cheer for so many different teams?

Learning to bleed red and blue,
David