The Mystery of Blessing

 

 



 

         This began as a "Thanksgiving" post, but as is the case these days, the time to finish even the shortest of posts was just not furnished. I wrote some ok things, I guess, but I have deleted those words and have begun again. I have read and heard that this a great writing process. I'll let you be the judge of that. I'd just like to have the time to sit down and punch out a post in a single sitting. I have a few friends who rise very early each morning and accomplish amazing things (physically, spiritually, and academically) before the sun rises and in my mind and heart, I'd like to be like that too, but I just don't see it happening. For the whole month of November, I took time with each of my classes and each day had each student name something that they were thankful for. Most of the time, my students were thoughtful, but sometimes it was as most exercises like this done with kids, it went south pretty quickly. I do not find fault with them. It's easy to judge kids, but it's better to remember that they lack so many of the things that life teaches us over the years. I'm in no way saying I'm an expert about kids. I will easily say I know very little, but I do know the kids I see each day because I used to be that age and have not forgotten my own experiences.

 

       Each morning as I drove to school in the cool dawning's of each new day, I would spend a good amount of my thirty minute commute thinking about what I was actually thankful for and the more time I spent thinking, the more I kept ending up with the idea that I'll try to explain in this post. I'm sure I'm not the first person to have such thoughts. There are probably great essays or even books about the idea and I just don't know them. If you do, maybe you'll be kind enough to point them out to me and I'll enjoy reading from someone who is a much better and more adept writer and thinker than me.

 

         The more I thought about the items in my life that I'd admit to being thankful for, the more I kept coming back to the idea that I am completely sure that we, or maybe it's just, I, do not understand blessing. We use this word for so many things that I feel it's meaning is lost somewhere between everyone telling everyone they're around that "they're a blessing" or asking the "blessing" before a meal, or every deal or break we get is such a huge "blessing". I am in no way making light of these cases, well, maybe the first example, but not the other two, but I'm only trying to say that we use and abuse so many terms nowadays that their meanings begin to lose something. I feel I know the reason for that and that is we had reduced our language to such a small amount of known words that we're left with few options. It is a bad feeling to be lacking in the language to explain something, but I believe that is where we are at and it has happened so quickly. I'm in no way pointing fingers at those around me. I'm to be included in that horde of folks "lacking in language".

 

         I kept coming back to this idea because I keep having this plain picture in front of me each day and that is of an event that happened around this time last year. And I'll tell you. To be honest, it is a bit uncomfortable to tell because I'd love for you to see the best in me and I'd love for us to be all able to pretend that all is well and beautiful and always has been and always will be, but we all know that, that is not the case. It was about a year ago that we lost our home. The hurt that came with that is still very present in me and in us. It's not something I love telling people. It's more of something I'd love to hide from everyone; even myself. It was during my Christmas Break and we were staying with my in-laws and Mel and I were attempting to enjoy the holidays, but so much was lying just underneath the surface and so raw inside each of us. Behind closed doors at night, we'd attempt to communicate to each other what neither of us could or were doing well. She needed a leader and she needed answers and I was rudderless and was drowning. I am not a good husband. I will tell you this freely. It is not something I'm proud of. I want to be and attempt to be, but always fall short. I do not lead my wife well, love her well, provide for her well, disciple her well, etc. And she simply and gracefully, asked me what was our plan. I did not know our plan. I had a plan and it had slowly and then quickly and so fitfully unraveled. To be more specific, it exploded. I fumbled around with really nothing to say and then lied down, but sleep was not really going to happen, and so I stood up, changed clothes, grabbed my jacket and attempted to go for a walk. I walked for a very long time that night. I feel that I'm perpetually in this motion every five years or so. I'm out walking late at night hurling words and thoughts into a clear sky because I'm once again at a place where I know nothing and have no idea about what comes next. Many moments later, I found myself sitting on the bank of a small pond in front of an old, small brick house begging God to show me what I needed to do. All I truly felt was anger, bitterness, rage, deep sadness, and severe regret. I sat there for a long, long time hoping for some direction, any direction, and all I ended up with was this numb feeling that comes to me so often when my emotions reach their max. It is an odd thing to type this out and to think that now I live in that small brick home and eat my morning meal looking out at that pond. And yet, all these moments, all these emotions, all these spoken words, all of everything wrapped together, was what I'd like to relay to you as, "the mystery of blessing". I will say I'm deeply grateful for all of this, but will easily say I do not understand even the slightest bit of it. I am continuously surrounded these days by constant mystery and I do not understand most of it, but spend large swaths of time rolling all of it around my quickly balding head.

 

         In times of ease, it is so easy for me to look around and be quasi-thankful for everything that surrounds me. I can very casually nod this way and that and give you a little inventory of my all of my "blessings". I think back to years like 2010 when my life just about as close to perfect as I think it can get here on Earth and I would leave for a run in the evening and come back to lights in the windows of our home and a happy wife inside and I would pause for a moment a thank God for my life and in all honesty, I was, but I was also completely oblivious to all the blessings that made up my life. Or I think back to 2006 when I had just gotten married about brought my new wife back to the small home I had purchased and begun to remodel and begin attempting to live a life that was for two instead of one. I was so happy and it was easy to look at my wife or see my life beginning to take shape and stop briefly and attempt to be thankful. Or I think back to 2012 to the very first moment that I got to hold my son and although I was so very thankful for a healthy wife and a healthy, precious boy, I do not believe that I wholly understood the depth of the blessings that were being given to me. I could list so many other moments, but those are enough. And I will not say I wholly understand them now, but am slowly coming to the outline of their true meanings. Please do not get me wrong, I was truly thankful for those moments when I was swirling amongst them like a speeding gaseous particle, but am only now coming to terms with the blessings that were being given to me at the speed of life.

 

    However, when life is throwing you a multitude of curve balls and there seems to be a very dark cloud hovering above you, I am the first to go blind to all these blessings and instantly draw up my laundry list of grievances. I am so quick to forget the blessings that are being given to me. And no, I'm not talking about just the good things. I'm talking about all things; all the facets of every moment that I'm living in and amongst. All things. One of my favorite Bible verses is Romans 8:28 because I love to know that truly, "all things are working together for the good" for me, but the older I get, the more I also know that I also have very little clue about what is truly "good" for me. And am slowly learning that most of what is good for me ends up costing me so much physically, emotionally, financially, and relationally. It is for me in these terrible, painful, and costly events that have come to me where I believe that this "mystery of blessing" truly lives. No, I have not become a true pessimist or some crazy sort of masochist, but rather just a slow learner. My mother's father, my granddad, nicknamed me Pokey so many years ago and it is so true in many, many ways.

 

  I'm sure, if you've read this far into this post, that you're saying this is really nothing new. I get that. Everyone knows all of life, the good and the bad, is all the "stuff" we're suppose to be thankful for and know if you're like me you've heard many sermons about this and heard many people tell you much of the same. But what I'm trying to say is that but that God is in a constant state of blessing us, but much of those blessings seem more like curses. And I'm in no way saying that God curses us because that couldn't be more untrue and I'm also not saying that I throw a party for bad thing that comes my way. I guess to be honest, I am not exactly sure how to end this post except to say that I'm only beginning to see the very outline of the true mystery of blessing and to see those Biblical accounts where blessing is being showered upon a person, a people, an event as maybe they really are. How truly terrifying it must have been to be Abraham being blessed to be the father of a great and mighty nation. Or Mary to be blessed among all women. Or to be Jacob and be blessed by an angel who just maimed you. I feel I have glossed over those stories my whole life without really thinking about the imagery and idea of blessing in those stories or so many others. I am also guilty of glossing over the stories in my own life in much the same way. I still have much to think about and maybe you feel that you have just spent some of your valuable time reading nothing. I apologize. I will only say that I'm a blessed man and I only partly know what that means. I have lived a blessed life and will continue to do so. It is really not in my power to not. And hopefully, I will begin to understand the blessings that come my way.

 

"Come thou fount of every blessing,

Tune my heart to sing Thy grace,

Streams of mercy never ceasing,

Call for songs of loudest praise,

Teach me some melodious sonnet,

Sung by flaming tongues above,

Praise the mount, I'm fixed upon it,

Mount of God's redeeming love..."

 

 

 

DAVID



Of A Milestone and The Great Steel Workhorse

 

   I know I write too often about bikes and I was going to give you, my faithful readers, a small break, but FH and I hit a little milestone in our two-wheeled lives and I am just so proud of it, not for the number of miles or for the exercise benefits or anything of the sort, but for many reasons that I don't really feel I could or can fully express thoroughly enough with just words. I wouldn't normally share it if it were just numbers, a distance, or a goal met, but because it's not,  I feel a small necessity to share because I'd like you know a little about it. It may be my age or that I've moved past the mileage game, but I no longer feel the need or desire to tell of my runs or rides in terms of distance or speed, but rather in terms of what I've gained mentally or emotionally from these times when I escape to a world of simple tasks and am able to leave so many things behind and only hear the wind passing through my helmet or my seemingly always labored breathing. I still love to compete, but it feels that I am losing the desire to compete in the things I call my hobbies. Now, don't get me wrong, if I'm out on a run and see you up ahead, I'll still do my best to run you down or if I'm out biking and you're up ahead, I'll still try to catch you and attempt to pass you. That will always be in me.



     Ever since FH turned one and we were allowed to legally and weight-wise ride with him in a seat behind me, the whole act of riding has changed for me. Before this, riding was exercise and I was getting on the bike to try to become a more proficient rider hoping to one day become good at it. I have these visions, albeit delusional, of me being lean and great at riding like some of the guys I know. Guys who can ride a hundred miles in under 5 hours. Guys who are sponsored. Guys who ride hundreds of miles each day training for things called "Tours" or "Giros" in places like France, Italy, and Australia. However, from our very short and nervous ride to our last Sunday ride a few days ago, riding has become a true escape for me. The bike has and still continues to be a place were my life becomes composed again, even if its just for a short moment, of simplicity.  And it is this simplicity that I crave so much these days.

 



    Little FH was born a little over 2.5 years ago and it is no secret that our lives have been drastically been altered during this time period. Our little family has gone through more stress, loss, frustration, loneliness, and bitterness than I truly care to dwell on for long and this bike: a 1982ish Huffy Bay Pointe 3 Speed Mixte has been the exact opposite of all of that for me. No matter what is going on or has just taken place, I can grab my sweet boy FH, put a few things in our basket, and just ride. We never really have a destination and I've only ridden once when I cared anything about how fast we were going. There is never spandex, speed cadence meters, heart rate monitors, guilt from lack of mileage, etc. There isn't the stress of no burning enough calories. There is only a little boy, a diaper bag, a bottle of water, a few snacks, and me. And sometimes, our sweet Melissa rides with us and it is just three humans and four wheels smiling with the wind through out hair and everything feels right.  And it is always enough. And I cannot say that for any other area of my life. Every other area of my life feels like I am never enough or that I don't have what it takes. But sitting in the saddle of this Sears bike, it feels like I always have enough and that I have what it takes. I know this may sound lame or sound too sentimental, but I am only trying to write how I feel.

 

 

 

 

   And so about two weeks ago on a short and quick ride before dinner, FH and I headed out into the twilight hours, or what I've heard referred to as of late, as the golden hour, and attempted to hit a small milestone and after riding for about 25 minutes came to a stop in the middle of a small, heavily-rutted back road and had a brief and minor celebration. I celebrated the milestone and FH celebrated the Goldfish and cold water we shared with each other and the goats nearby. As of that moment, FH and I had ridden 500 miles together in 2014 in a wide range of places and on an even wider range of terrain.

 

    We have had early morning rides and night rides. We've ridden on bike trails and down busy four lane highways. We have ridden down city streets surrounded by a couple hundred thousand people that live there and we've ridden places where there the only sign of human existence was the small dirt road we were riding on. We have seen sunrises and sunsets. We've seen people kissing and fighting. We've crashed once and fallen off once. We've gotten four or five flat tires. We've had to call Melissa twice to come get us. We've run out of diapers a couple of times. We've laughed, tickled each other, cried, and both gotten angry at each other and situations. We've spotted animals, flowers, and once even rode in the moonlight next to a few deer who seem to be running with us for a few moments. We've been chased by dogs and cows and even once rode over a rattlesnake. We've picked up turtles, weeds, flowers, and fruit. We've been waved out, yelled at, cussed at, stared out, honked at, chased, and once even stopped and told to never be seen riding on a certain road. We've ridden inside and outside and once used the bike as our shopping cart. We've sweated and shivered. We snacked and even stopped several times to take a nap. We've played on more playgrounds that I can recall. We've even ridden and competed in a bike race and even came in first. Two guys on two wheels can see and experience a lot. And I wouldn't want to spend my time doing anything less.

 

 



 

 

  500 miles is a long way, but it feels as if I wish it weren't so short. It seems to be not enough. Our longest ride has been a Sunday afternoon 21 miler and our shortest is less than a tenth of a mile. We average about 10 miles an hour, but sometimes, it is more like 8 or 9. The ride is always what it needs to be and I never think later on of how we could have gone faster, longer, or how I could have ridden the ride or a section of the ride better or more proficiently. It is always enough. I'm sure you could ride that distance faster and with more grace. I'm sure your rig is nicer or cost much more. I'm sure you could ride that distance in far less time than it took us. I'm sure of all of all those things. But I care about it not at all. I respect your ability and FH and I'll cheer for you when you pass us with gusto. I'm sure about all those things because I know that you may be a better rider, on a better bike, but I also know that you don't have as good of a co-pilot as I do. And I wouldn't trade that component for anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAVID





Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap

     * There are currently 20+ drafts sitting in the wings and someday I may finish them, but with how my current life is going, I'm not so sure of when that "someday" may be. It has taken me over three sad weeks just to finish this measly post. BUT...BUT...I really want to update this place. So, my plan is to just put out some quick (haha), short (hahaha) posts and maybe you'll enjoy some of those and I'll feel good about posting. So, here we go.

      Many months ago, I read a description of this soap on a website I check a little too often and knew I had to, in the very least, buy a bar of it and give it the old college try. (What does that last little bit mean any way?) I went ahead and bought two bars just in case I loved it and upon the arrival of my box, I immediately became oddly infatuated with the whole concept of the soap and became  that precocious kid who is walking around asking people to smell and touch whatever the newest thing that has caught their fancy. I made just about anyone who came over at least smell the box and some would be brave enough to get the bar out of the box and handle it. I, even went as far as, to bring the soap to school and show it to all my students who in return, for the most part, thought I was even weirder than previously thought. But some also became quickly attached to the smell and have sense told me that they too have made the same purchase.

     And as with most things with me, the whole idea of using the soap went from semi-normal to blown way out of proportion. I've been called an extremist before and all I'll really say is that I get it genetically from all sides of the gene pool and some from my surroundings. I began, in my mind, and then to my students doing these little advertising bits for the soap and with each bit, the soap and what it does got more and more absurd. And they sort of went like this:

"Have you ever been watching a John Wayne movie and wondered what a man like that used for soap or smelled like....

 

 

"...then use 'Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap'."

 

 

Or

 

 

"Have you ever wanted to be the type of man that walks with bears and claws their lifestyle out of the wilderness like Jeremiah Johnson...

 

 

...then try 'Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap'."

 

 

Or

 

 

"Have you ever wanted to smell like the kind of guy that could lead a nation into the extreme wilderness and have them survive off of locusts and manna and stretch out your arms and separate a sea....

 

 



 

 

 

...then try 'Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap'."

 

     You get the idea. I know, I know, it's just a soap, but the soap sort of emits this strange amount of strength from it and it's not just the heavy pine tar scent. It seems like once you begin using it, it feels as if you are going in the complete opposite direction as many of today's male grooming and metrosexual goops and lotions. It is as if you are using a soap you bought off a guy who was with Lewis & Clark or is best friends with Daniel Boone or de Vaca. All of which seems just as absurd until you give the picture of "Grandpa" that's on the box a good look in the eye and dump the soap out into your hand and give it the once over; even going so far as to run some warm water and wash your face with it for the first time. After that first washing, all of the above won't seem so far fetched.

 

 

 

    And as the back of the box claims, it has been known to be good for everything from shampoo to shaving lotion; each of which I've tested and can say that it is a sufficient shampoo, but it is one of the best shaving lathers that I've ever used. And the soap has also been known to help people who struggle with dandruff, Psoriasis, Eczema, and many other major and minor skin irritations. I'm not sure about any of those, but I will say that it does do a great job of cleaning and when you finish your shower, you do feel fresh and clean.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

           In all honesty and putting most of the absurdity behind me, Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap, is a really good soap. It does smell and when I say that I am VERY serious. You can just place it in your bathroom and minutes later, it is the only smell that you will experience when you go near or in the bathroom. The smell grew on me, but it did not grow on my wife. The only thing that I can tell you that it smells like is that of a campfire. Many others who smelled it compared it to everything from beef jerky (disgusting) to dog food (even more disgusting). I only think it smells like the fires that smolder days after they've been set or break out like in a state forest or when they are clearing land. I happen to like this smell, but others may hate it. And you may like it, but just not want to smell it in your shower. I will say that after bathing with it, you do not smell like it for even an hour after you bathe. 

 

 

 

 

    It is a great soap and an even greater shaving lather. It is an efficient shampoo, but if you have thin hair like me, then it'll make it feel really dry. I have a read a couple of places saying it makes a great deodorant, but from my single day experience, I can say that either it isn't or South Georgia is not the place to try that out. If you have normal skin, I don't think there is much resistance to it, but if you have sensitive skin, then your skin may fight you a little. If you have marble or granite fixtures in your bathroom, the soap does leave behind an odd film, but most bar soaps do too, but unlike we'll say Irish Spring, "Grandpa's", washes off easily. And if natural soap is your thing, then look no further that this soap. It only has seven total ingredients and three of those are water, pine tar, and salt. This is a far cry from 15+ ingredients that make up the bar of my usual, Irish Spring soap, that most people who didn't take Organic Chemistry II could pronounce or know what they're referring to. I'm not knocking, Irish Spring. I love that soap. I've been using it since before middle school and I plan on doing so until something better comes along, but I was just showing the differences of ingredients.

 

 

    Since the summer and my fateful box containing two bars of Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap, I have since used both bars and do not currently have a bar, but one should arrive tomorrow. I enjoyed the soap and will keep using it. It won't be a monthly thing, but merely just a special thing. The lone drawback for me, besides the fact that my bride doesn't just love it, is that each bar can put you back around $6. And when it comes to soap, that is quite a bit. I can sometimes find other soaps, soaps my bride and I both like, for far less and get multiple bars. I would encourage others to buy a bar. I will say that this is the first summer and XC season in which I didn't have to go to a doctor to get my biannual shot for a severe poison ivy breakout. I'm giving most of that credit to the soap and for me that's worth more than $6.

 

 

Go get some Pine Tar Soap and as FH would say, "lather up, lather up",

 

DAVID



"The Times They Are A-Changin"--A Blog Update

      The Catch-22 of having a blog is that you actually need to write blog posts. And there are a few things about writing blog posts that you need to have.  You need time and a clarity of mind; neither of which I feel like I've had for quite sometime. And the other thing about having a blog is that you need to keep them it to date or by the time you sit down to finish that post begun so very long ago, the event has passed you and what occurred had its effect and your life has moved on at a vaporous rate. And that is where we're at right now. I have a cache of drafts sitting in the wings waiting to be finished, but the moment has passed and in some cases it has long passed us. I still want to post them and still may, but it also may be better to just let them sit for my own viewing pleasure. But we'll see. I may post them to let you in on something that meant something to me many months ago and will, I'm sure, conjure those once felt feelings, the moment I sit down to finish the post.

     As I've said many times, I love this little blog. I may never write a decent post and I will most likely never strike it big writing, but I will always remember the day I learned about the idea of having a "blog" and then going about to set one up for myself. I felt as if I had discovered something so special I could hardly describe my exact feeling and I remember how grand it felt to "publish" my very first paragraph long post. It felt as if I was making history and doing something more monumental than just writing. I realize that everyone and their pets have blogs these days and that many people who became famous or well-known due to a blog have moved onto other mediums like tumblr and instagram. And that is fine. I still like knowing in the back of my mind that I write a little blog that a few people read. I like knowing that at different times during each day there are people all over the world looking up little things and somehow their fingers and their mouse find their way to words that I once wrote. I hope my words are both meaningful and helpful and that they guide the eyes and minds reading them to something more and something better.

    And so, I have made little resolutions in the past to publish a post once a week and I've made others to just write more often and this post is sort of another attempt to tell you that I'm still here and that I still have the desire to write and continue to have a blog. However, I'm not going to tell you that they'll be many more posts coming and then write a few, publish them, and then fall off the wagon again. I know that'll be the case, but as the title says, things here are changing. My sweet little family has been living in and amongst a raging storm over the past three years and we've made it work, but nothing has been easy. I'm in no way saying that its all been terrible, or that God has left us high and dry, or that there haven't been many moments within those three years where we wanted to stop the very earth on it's axis and freeze the time and suck the marrow out of it, because that would be far from the truth. God has seen us through so many things and I'll write about those in time. I will say that everything I've ever thought about life is wrong and has been rearranged, broken, shuffled, and then rebuilt and there is much that it may take the rest of my living days to ever truly understand. And for now, all I will really say is that God is good, true, severely merciful, savagely faithful, and ever-present. And for right now in our lives, the most true verse in Scripture is, "Be Still and know that I'm God." (Psalm 46:10). And being still is so very hard when you feel as if life and the earth itself is about swallow you whole and pull with you everything that you once held dear. But we've reached a safe harbor right now. And I cannot fully explain to you the respite that we feel, but to attempt to even come close to describing how it feels is that it feels that we are alive once again thrown together with the sensation of getting to breathe good air after feeling as if you were suffocating.

    I'm in no way saying that the rest of our lives will be easy because I'd lay good money on the fact that it won't. It's not suppose to be. How could we long for heaven and the great return of the Christ and be raised on wings of eagles if life were easy and all was smooth. However, we've reached a place now, mentally and physically, where the waves are no longer crushing us and the wind is not driving us away from where we've been trying to push towards. We've reached a place where we can once again begin having a the peace we once had. And I say all of this to let you know that there will be many more posts. I have seen it attributed to many different writers, so I'll not award it to anyone special, but there is a quote about writers and it says something to the effect that writers always write; they have to because its in them. Please know I'm in no way saying that I can write or that I have this great hidden talent to put thoughts into words, but I will say that words and ideas are always floating through my head and that I'll someday be wise enough to record them before I've allowed them to be molded into something I no longer recognize and spend the next great amounts of time trying to remember the beauty and cadence with which they first came to me.

   It is late now as I write this and new day has already begun and my sweet wife has gone off to bed and my dear son lays so quietly at rest in his "big boy" bed. I cannot fully write of the blessings that God has bestowed on my head in what little of this life I've lived. I have been living day to day in this great wilderness where it has been so very hard to look for that cloud by day and fire by night and it would be false to say that many times I've felt as if the Great Jehovah was not there and that He had long grown weary of my prayers. I am the faithless man who prayers and often feels as if I'm hurling empty words into the sky. And I've walked countless miles, physically, mentally, and spiritually, in what F. Scott Fitzgerald so eloquently described as the dark night of the soul and have woken the next morning ashamed that I fell asleep and still no answer has been arrived at, but I've not quit praying and hurling those words into the great night sky, but all I've prayed is wrong, but Jesus the Christ has translated my words well. In the words of the author of Streams in the Desert, I've piled high onto Jehovah and Jehovah has answered my prayers in a fashion that I would had asked them if only I knew past, present, and future and was in all things and the maker of all things, but I am far from that.

   So….where does all of this lead us. It is a very long attempt to say that there will be future posts about all the things that make up my life. I hope you'll continue to read them. I hope that my life continues to allow me to post. Be on the look out. They are coming and I can't wait to publish them. And as always I can not say thank you enough for taking some minutes out of your day to read what little I have to say.

DAVID

“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.” --Wendell Berry

The Wald 137 Bike Basket--A Product Review

"A bike without a bag or basket is a eunuch, a race bike. If you don't race, your bike should be usable, able to carry something, so the first thing to do to a bike is to junk it up with a bag or basket. Baskets are harder to mount, but easier to fill and unfill… .Get over the "clean" look of a useless bike, and learn to love that useful look of a bagged and basketed one. The added weight doesn't matter. You're not racing, you're living a bicycle life, and that means riding a bicycle that's useful."

Grant Petersen--The Twentieth Catalog, pg. 62

     I know. I know. There hasn't been a post in awhile and all I'm giving you is another (ANOTHER!!) post about something to do with bicycles. I know. I'm sorry. There will be other posts. Different posts. They're coming. Trust me. I've got some lined up and mostly ready to ship out. I've got some old ones that I've been meaning to post and there are others; some about books, some about music, one about running, and a few odds and ends, but this is all for now. Things have been busy here. No, not busy, like you tell people when you feel them getting ready to ask some obligatory favor that involves time, money, smiling, hugging, etc, or they invite you somewhere you'd rather go watch paint dry than go, but really busy. It is the Spring semester at school and if you teach, you know how busy that is. I'm currently teaching 7 out of 7 periods a day. And on top of that, for the last month and a half, I've been working part time at a local car wash here (I'm not skipping that, but it is just too much to tell about now). And….And…And, two weeks ago, I spent the whole week in NYC with the senior class from the school I teach at. It was an awesome trip. I'm still recovering. Maybe one day, I'll have a few moments and I'll write a little something about it. To be honest, I'm still trying to digest all we did. It was a whirlwind trip; one of those once in a lifetime type of trips where one moment you are standing in front of a real Monet and the next you are watching a Broadway musical. That kind of trip, but let's get on with this post. For those of you who write with music or to music, this post is being written to two of my newest musical purchases: Kathleen Edward's, Voyageur, and Andrew Bird's, I Want to See Pulaski at Night. They are worth a listen if you like a music. If you don't, then stay away. You'll hate it. If you love Top 40, you'll hate it. If you like strange music with strange titles so you can look down your haughty nose at others, you'll hate it too. Well…to the post. 

Wald. Enough said. Really. 

         If you don't have a basket on your bike, I get it. I was there about 2.5 years ago. Baskets are lame.   They are girly. They are only for those weak sauce beach bikes that you are forced to rent when you're at the beach. You know the one's with the Hawaiian flowers and huge handlebars. They take your man card away from you (when did this become a thing and when can it quickly become a non-thing!). I get all of that, well, except the last one. Pretty sure I never want the guys from Men's Health and Spike TV and such to NEVER define for me what a guy is or what makes a guy. Anyway. If you have a bike that is basket-less and the thought of putting one on there makes you cringe a little, or a lot, I get that. I was there. However, after using my bike as my second main mode of transportation over the last 2.5 years, I am not the same guy when it comes to bikes, baskets, bags, and just bike riding in general. 

    If you use your bike for more than a Saturday ride with the guys who are going to put the hammer down for 30-60 miles wearing spandex and trying to one up each other every couple of miles and then load them up on their Nissan Xterra's, Toyota 4-Runner's, and Chevy Z-71's, and drive home thinking they could have done more if only they had a more expensive bike that weighed less, then you are probably going to be carrying a little more than a bottle of Gatorade and a few of those nasty energy gels. You will probably have a lot of stuff and you're probably going to need somewhere to put it. You could wear a backpack. That's what I did. And it works. Sort of. I say sort of, because it sort of works. If you sweat at all when you ride and if you live in somewhere real then it's probably hot (somewhere above 65+ degrees) for most of the year and if you're pedaling farther than a mile, chances are you'll sweat and if you're heading to work, you'll probably not have access to a shower. That is what I needed, but never got. I would get to work really sweaty and would have to settle for a quick change of clothes and a quick "bath" in the staff bathroom sink. You don't want that. Just take the plunge. Get a basket. Load it up. Say good-bye to a sweaty back. Sure, you'll get made fun from time to time, but that would happen sooner or later for one thing or another. That's why there is a saying out there right now that is pretty good: "Haters gonna hate". Too true. Let them hate. Get to work, the store, XC practice, church, home, without carrying an over-packed backpack and arrive without a sweaty back. 

The front view. Unloaded. 

     And if you get a basket for your bike, make it a Wald basket. There are a lot of companies that make bike baskets, but just go ahead a buy a Wald basket. It'll be worth your time and it isn't going to cost you anymore than some other brand and you'll probably have to replace that one a few times for any number of reasons. Wald Sports has been making bike related things since 1905 and doing so in the USA. Their current operation is in Maysville, Kentucky and has been there since 1924. Their first product was a bike repair tool, but they moved on and now carry a variety of components, but all of them are built here in the US and they have quite a reputation for building things that last. I've seen Wald baskets from the 1950's on bikes that people are still using. In an age where it seems all things are being made to just last a little while before you throw them away, this means a lot to me. It feels good to buy something that I will still be using 20 years from now. If I'm not using it, least it will still be around. Sort of makes it feel like the money I'm spending means more or is worth more. If you don't believe me, look them up. Buy a basket. Test it. If you hate it, then email them and tell them all about it. They'll actually answer you back within a few days with a personal email message and try to remedy your problem. I'm trying to think of another current larger company that stands behind their product without making you jump through fifty hoops and I'm coming up blank. Apple is awesome, but I've also spent the last 2 months trying to get my iPod up and running. In that time, I've gotten three small and personal emails back from Wald after I sent a mere question to them. 

A side view. Unloaded. 

    After FH and I smashed our previous basket, we needed another option. I tried to convince Sweet Melissa into burning the midnight oil for us a few times and come up with something that could attach to FH's bike seat that she/we could sew/build that would carry all of our crap, but nothing seemed to work out. Buying another basket was the only really option for us. So, we scoured the inter web for bike baskets and read review after review and our sources kept making us come back over and over to Wald Sports. Now, Wald Sports makes about 11 or so different basket models, but the most popular models are the Wald 137, the 139, and the 133 Quick Release. Sweet Mel bought me the 139 for Christmas, but we haven't found a real use for it because it is HUGE. I'm pretty sure I could put our lab Jack in it on the front of our bike and ride. This sounds absurd, but I feel it is about 90% true. I know Ford fits in it. I'll put it on a bike, but it will have to be a different one than any that we currently have. So, FH and I ordered two Wald 137's and then waited with baited breath at the front door for the UPS man. It set us back exactly $32. We could have just bought one basket for $16, but ordering two just felt right. I had plans of using the second one on my Trek 1000 SL, but alas the handlebars were a few inches too narrow. RATS! If you're wondering, Mel and I spent around $20 for the cheaply made (in China) basket that we smashed. 

The legs that can attach to any kind of hub and can be adjusted to fit 18''-22''. 

        I feel like I could say more than I really should about the Wald 137, but I won't bore you more than I already do. The basket itself weighs 2.2 lbs. and is 15in x 10in x 4.75in. This makes it the perfect size for carrying most of what you've got. I can't find the limit on how much you can or should carry in the basket, but since it is attached to the bike in four places, it seems to handle weight pretty well. But it would be good to note that additional weight in the front does change the steering ability of the bike; not by a lot, but you can feel the difference between an empty and loaded basket. The 137 comes with legs that will and can attach to any type of hub and allow you to have the basket at either 18'' or 22'' above the hub depending on where you need it. These legs are a recent, but very nice addition to the 137 model. Without them, I'd had to have bought a pricey front rack and had it installed. The legs saved me around $130. The basket also has two clamps that allow you to secure it to the handlebars. Altogether, I think it took me around 20 minutes or so to put the basket on the bike, which didn't feel that long or that difficult. The 137 model isn't a model that comes off the bike for you to take into a store or inside your house, but that isn't something I wanted. Our previous basket did and FH and I never used that feature. 

A cockpit view. Unloaded. 

     The one draw back from the basket size is that I wish they had a size that was actually a middle size between the 137 and the 139. And I only say this because FH and I always seem to have SO MUCH stuff. The 137 carries it well, but on the days when we carry FH's diaper backpack, some snacks, and a stop at a grocery store, it seems that the basket just isn't quite big enough. I know this sounds like TOO MUCH stuff and I would agree, but if you have a toddler you know what I'm talking about. It is always so much stuff to haul around. I love the Wald 137, but there are times when I wish it was a tab bit larger. Not super big like the 139, but just bigger.

 

A look from the front. Unloaded. 

       I can't say enough good things about this basket. It was most definitely worth the $16 that we paid for it. And we bought a small cargo net ($7) off of Amazon to go over the top of the basket and help us keep all the things in place. FH and I have made good use of the basket and we've carried everything from groceries (4 total bags!) to cameras and jackets in it. We've also brought mom home some breakfast from our Sunday morning rides along with dinner a few nights from places not too far from us. And I've even brought home a few drinks home with refills. It is a great addition to our bike and I'm so glad we sprung for it. It is so nice to be able to carry all that we need to with us or to know that if we went somewhere and got something that we'd have a place to carry it home with us. And aren't those two of the drawbacks that most people have with biking somewhere as opposed to taking your car? I feel like that is pretty close to being true. I'll end the post with several pictures that I've taken over the last several weeks since we've had the basket on our two-wheeled beast. It's a great basket. It's useful and it looks about as neat as a basket can. 

A view from the bottom side. Fully loaded. FH and I put in over 20 miles this day and took a 45 minute nap in a local park. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday. 

A view from the top. Fully loaded. Taking a few moments to look at some daffodils. 

FH's backpack and a view from the top. Fully loaded. We were headed to church. 

Proof that it is a very useful addition. It definitely carries its own weight at the grocery store. 

FH, the fully loaded basket, and the bright lights of our local Kroger.

    Get a basket. Make it a Wald. Install it on your ride. Make your life easier and better. Leave the car at home. Save on gas. Get some fresh air. Don't be stuck in traffic. Ride down a hill with no hands. Remember as Hemingway is credited with saying, "When you stop doing things for fun, you might as well be dead.". 

Happy reading,

DAVID

Returning to An Old Habit

         If you were looking for some sort of confessional, you had better move on. I just have rediscovered an old habit and have really enjoyed falling back into it again and wanted to clue you in; the faithful lot here at the Darkroom. To make a short story a tad bit shorter, I'll cut to the chase and just shoot you straight: I have started carrying a pocket knife again. I took a hiatus; pretty close to a decade hiatus. I quit for a reason, but now I can't quite remember why I really stopped. I guess I thought carrying a small pocket knife was for a certain type of person and I wasn't going to be that type, but that was also when I thought I knew a few things. Now I would pick the habit back up for a hiking or canoe trip, but then put it back up once the adventure was over. No, not a Bowie knife or some crazy switchblade straight out of Harlem or Compton. Just a simple one function knife. I know they sell those behemoths that have something like 73 functions, but I've never used all of them. I'm a pretty simple guy and a simple knife fits all my needs. I just found myself running into at least one situation every day where I'd think to myself that I wish I had a knife and one day I finally pulled out the drawer of my bedside table and found the little knife and put it in my pocket as I headed to work.

       The knife isn't fancy either. It's just one of the base models that Kershaw puts out. I like Kershaw knives. They're an American company and even go as far as to make a few of their knives in America. There are several great knife companies out there right now and I own a few of their products that I've gathered over the years, but over the last several years, I've really felt the need to support American companies that are bringing work back here. It's a risk and they should be rewarded. Kershaw is one of those companies and I've been a big fan of their knives since I bought my first one over the Wal-Mart counter in Ft. Payne, Alabama in 2004. The model I'm carrying now isn't that knife, but one I purchased back in 2006. It isn't made in America. Maybe, I'll move up to that one, but we're taking things slower these days.

     And the knife is special. It was the knife I gave to all my groomsmen the night before I married my Sweet Melissa. That is a nice thought to have as I feel it in my pocket and use it throughout the day. I guess that's how knives are for me when I really get to thinking about them. Maybe that's part of why I'm so glad about stumbling into carrying one again. My granddad carried a knife. I've got a few of his old ones. I'll never carry them, but I look at them from time to time. It is odd thing to hold an item that you remember someone who has passed away using. It is as if you get to jolt yourself back for a small moment. My dad carries a small knife and I believe his father does as well. It's a nice thing to follow in the line of something like that. It makes me feel as if my meager actions in that quiet time before the sun rises as I approach my day are no longer just a routine, but rather a ritual and the hands I stuff the knife into my pocket with are the hands of my father's and his father's and the actions are those of the men who've come before me who also sat in that brief time when all thoughts are calm and the sun is making its slow rise and the dew is laying softly and all the day is spread before you and you leave knowing that today is the day to make it count.

Happy reading,

    DAVID

Happy Belated President's Day

       I know I'm exactly 9 days past when this post should have gone out, but I make no excuses. Life is life. You live it too. Thanks for taking part of your busy daily routine to check my blog. Updating it just may be one of the things I look forward to doing all the time. I just wish I had more time to do so. I got this picture from an email from Public Bikes. They have a great site about bike design, commuting, city design, and just plain having fun on two wheels. Well, Happy Super-Late President's Day. I know we haven't had a good one in quite a long time, but try to pray for them instead of complain. God is listening and in control. 

DAVID

Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of riding a bike.

~ John F. Kennedy

Sabbath Morning Breakfast Ride

“A world without a Sabbath would be like a man without a smile, like summer without flowers, and like a homestead without a garden. It is the most joyous day of the week.” 
― Henry Ward Beecher

The rig of glory 

        Ever since Ford turned one and was old enough to ride the bike with me, one of my favorite rides is our Sunday morning rides to get some breakfast. I've dubbed the ride, "The Sabbath Morning Breakfast Ride", and I look forward to it all week. I wish we got to go every Sunday, but sometimes it just doesn't work out and I always wish that we'd somehow pulled it off no matter the reason. I love the ride so much because Sunday in Macon is what I imagine it is like to ride a bike in places where the car is only a type of transportation used, not the main mode. And Macon may be a town with a population of around a 100K, but on Sunday mornings, it feels like a very small town. It always feels as if you have the town to yourself and the only cars you pass are the kind people trying to get to that 9:30 Baptist Sunday School class. They don't honk at you or scream at you for having the audacity to ride a bike on their rode. They wave and move on and you do too. It is almost the only time you feel as if you are actually sharing the road. It is just plain nice and I'll even go as far as saying it is pleasant. 

   On weekend mornings, I'll wake up early, go get Ford, who is already awake and is the reason why I woke up, put on some coffee, change clothes, change Fordy's clothes, grab a few necessary things, and head out the door. I love taking care of Ford on the weekend mornings because the other five mornings of the week are days where I still get up early, but then I have to leave for work instead of staying with Mel and Ford. And if you have small children, you know that those early morning hours are very special and sweet times. Little Ford is very snuggly and cuddly on most mornings and it is so nice to get to have a slow morning and not to have to rush off to work. No, I'm not ignoring the fact that it is early, or that there are diapers to change, mouths to feed, mountains of laundry to do, or that many times Ford is alternating between crying and begging for the food that I'm trying to make for him, but my time with Ford is limited and I don't want to miss more than I already have to. That is all I'm really trying to say. I'll say the rest in a few words and several pictures.  

Why so sad, little Ferdie? I dress this guy as quickly and as warm as possible and then we're off. He normally looks a little more happy, but this pic was taken just a few seconds after we had to get little FH to understand that telling daddy, "no", is really not an option. 

We go several places, but our favorite place to come is Jittery Joe's. We've hit the "Buck's" and we've hit the Waffle House, but Jittery's is our best place and we've been coming here for the past year. It is a little over three and a half miles from our house, but it is a good little ride and I really enjoy pointing things out to FH and now FH points out things to me and we make animal noises, sing, and make crazy noises when we ride under bridges because they echo. Jittery Joe's is in Mercer Village. A place that I wish would have existed when I was a wee college student. 

This is a bike rack. Mercer is working with several non-profits that have the main goal of revitalizing Macon. I'm pretty sure Macon would not be where its at without MU making it a better place. And one of the initiatives that they've been working on is making Macon and especially what they call the, "The College Hill Corridor", a place that is bike and pedestrian friendly. They want to do this because places where people bike and walk are more healthy and places where people really support local businesses; two very good things for any community. Car transportation often leads to businesses leaving a town. These racks and slowly appearing bike lanes are two ways that Mercer is trying to get bikes into their "Corridor". They also do this really neat bike share program where you rent a bike for something like $40 a year. 

The sign for our current Breakfast Mecca. Although, I miss our beloved Joshua's Cup of days gone by and do wish I could have taken Ford there more than once. Jittery's offers a nice alternative. And on Sunday mornings FH and I usually have the place to ourselves or pretty close to it. There may be a few college kids there pretending to study (aka: looking at Facebook or Instagram) or one lone med or law student actually studying, but usually it is just us and we go crazy. And if there are people there, I feel like I'm a living PSA announcement for the college kids there. 

The menu at the Joe's. Who doesn't love a chalkboard menu.? They change it. They add little clever items and funny doodles. It is a great little menu and they seem to have something for coffee lovers and haters alike. And the prices are pretty reasonable. 

The display case that FH has titled the, "Yummmm!, Yummy!, Yummmm!" case. We always order the same way each time. I get two cinnamon apple scones for FH & me, a cup of water, and a cup of regular coffee with room (lots of it) for half and half. It sets us back about $6 or so dollars, but to me it is money well spent. The other baked goods are just that good, but scones are where we pitch our taste bud tent. They are big enough to just need one and FH likes them the best. When he was much younger, he shared one with me, but he has quickly grown up to eating almost a whole one himself. Most Sunday's, we order two of their great (and big) breakfast sandwiches to go and Mel, FH, and I eat on those as we get ready for church. Our church starts at 11:15 and that is a huge blessing. And to be honest, if it were earlier, I'm afraid we'd just not make it most days. Yes, we love God. Yes, we think it is so important to not forsake the community of believers, but we also have a 21 month old who wakes up early and by the time it is time for Sunday School/Church, is already needing to lay down for his first nap and if he misses that will usually not make his afternoon nap and if FH misses both naps, he usually won't go to sleep till 11 or 12 pm no matter what "putting to a child to sleep" method you proclaim to use. 

What would an independent coffee shop be without a hint or more of nerdiness, smugness, and that oh' so easy to do jab and "The Establishment" that Starbucks is in the land of coffee houses? FH wishes that would lose the nerdiness and just draw animal shapes; especially spiders, snakes, and elephants. 

The Sunday morning selfie. 

Sometimes, you just need the big cup of water. 

The Sunday morning breakfast meal du jour. 

The very delicious and edible cinnamon apple scone. We get it warmed up so it is soft to eat. FH is glad they have started giving us two forks. You get more of the scone when you control the input. He gets that part of economics. 

Most mornings there just isn't time to both talk and eat, so we just eat first and then point at things. 

The Jittery Joe's Breakfast Club. Move over Emilio and Judd, FH and I are here to stay. 

Maybe this is how most of the people who know me feel. I have talked them into doing something that they really don't want to do and then are caught in the middle of it and really wish there was some way to rewind the moment and begin again by telling me that they're afraid that they just can't make it to....I love the breakfast ride, but from the looks of it FH wishes that things were different. I promise that he does like it or at least the riding part. He's only a ham sometimes in front of the camera. Or maybe, he's like me and wishes that the bike ride home didn't always feel so short. 

   As you already know, I love riding with FH on the bike. Each time is a great and happy time for me. Each ride is special to me. I hope when he is older he will remember our rides. I hope we will get to ride together for a very long time. I always love the Sabbath. It is my favorite day. I can't wait till FH gets older and we can really start establishing some Sabbath day traditions. We've already started a few and they are great. 

Happy reading and even happier riding,

   DAVID