What were you doing 10 years ago today?

(As a heads up, I am a math professor, and my grammar and spelling are not always the best)

 

What were you doing 10 years ago today? It was a Tuesday. Two days earlier was the Tampa Bay Buccaneers had just won the Super Bowl over the Oakland Raiders. Four days later was when the tragic day when the Space Ship Colombia disintegrated over Texas and Louisiana. Those days were memorable days. But ten years ago today was just a day, like most any day. But for me it wasn’t.

That was the day I was attacked.

I turned 24 in the summer of 2002. I was fresh out of college with a teaching degree in mathematics. There is an old Billy Joel song that says “A young man is the king of every kingdom that he sees.” So I accepted a position teaching Algebra and Geometry to High School students in inner city Chicago. I was filled with enthusiasm. But most of all I felt God’s calling to teach in the inner city. What could be better for the students then learning day after day from a teacher that is praying for each of them? I wanted to make an impact, to do something important, to make a difference in the lives of young people using the thing that I know best … math.

I knew it was going to be tough. That was a given. But what I didn’t know about was the roll that first year teachers play in many inner city public schools. There I was one of 13 first year teachers at that school in the Fall of 2002. There was ONE second year teacher. That should indicate something. At the time (and I am guessing not much has changed today) over half of all new highers in the inner city schools leave to go someplace else with in the first 3 years.  During in service in that first week before classes, the older teacher do what they call “fleecing” the younger teachers. Over the lunch break they take the younger teachers out to lunch. What they don’t tell the younger teacher is that they are splitting the bill evenly. So the young teacher with all his new college debts to pay and tiny apartment to rent orders the $4 BLT. The four older teachers order the $11 steak. The check comes and dividing it evenly everyone pays $9.60. Surprise! The four older teachers get a discount on their steaks at the young teacher’s expense. Welcome to the city kid. Good luck when the students arrive tomorrow. Often the older teachers would joke about betting pools on which first year teacher would quit first and how soon.

Mentorship is a word that is used when you are hired, but it basically has little meaning.  No first year teacher was given a classroom on the first floor. That is because the main office is on the first floor. They know the chaos that is about to start. The further away you are the less likely you are to come ask for help. Additionally they deliberately cut the wires to the speaker to the main office for any first year teacher. They know the only way you can contact them is if you leave you room and walk all the way down stairs to the office to see them. The only time you would do that would be in a real emergency.

The students didn’t see me as teacher or mathematician. They simply saw me as a white man. And hear what I am saying, I loved those kids. I wanted to provide for them a quality education. But in their eyes, I was the enemy. And no, not every kid felt that way. In fact looking back I think most of the kids for the most part actually like me. But in the group setting like that you don’t want to look like the teacher suck up. On the whole I walked in to a room of angry stares. Someone the students were actually angry. Others were probably acting angry just for show.

Maybe one in five days was I actually able to teach something. It was like glorified babysitting. One day a student threatened to jump out my second story classroom window. The other students egged him on yelling, “jump, jump!” Another student frequently would flop on the floor and spin around whooping and hollering like you would see in a three stooge’s movie. One student missed the first week of class because he was in jail. A week after he made it out his mom was put in Jail. He brought it up in class saying “My mom’s in Jail. You know what that means. Party at my house this weekend you guys!” Bizarre! One girl (I can see her face so clearly when I think about her) did nothing but sleep and mumble. I was so naive. Years later it hit me so clearly, she was stoned. Every day she came in to my classroom she was completely strung out. I suppose the difference between a rhombus and a kite have very little importance when you are high on drugs.

Lots of students slept. At first I was upset about it. Then a couple months in I left something at the school and I had to go back in the evening. When I opened the classroom door it looked so different to me. First thing in the morning, that room looked like a gladiator arena. Get ready, the anger and insults are coming. But that evening I opened the door and what I saw was a sanctuary. And I thought about what horrible home life many of these kids must come from. What sort of threats are they hearing on the way to school or in the lunch room? This forty-five minute Algebra class might be the safest time slot of their entire day. I never scolded a kid for sleeping in my class from that day forward.

In the six months I taught in the building, there had been one stabbing, one shooting and probably hundreds of fist fights. None of those made the local news. I’m guessing are way too many of those to even be reported on.

The year before I went to Chicago I had a college friend who spent 4 months on a mission trip in Japan; a different culture, a different language. She said she cried herself to sleep most nights. She said it was life changing for her. I remember saying to myself, “I wonder what that is like”. Within less than two weeks of teaching in Chicago I knew exactly what it was like. It was exhausting. In fact there was one night I slept 14 hours straight. I came home from school and fell asleep at 4PM just to wake up at 6AM to teach the next day.

This was not the path I had anticipated taking right out of college. Growing up I always wanted to be a husband and a daddy. I always wanted a daughter.  And today as I write this I have a gorgeous wife and two adorable daughters. But ten years ago I had no one. When I was younger I had picture in my mind what the worst possible outcome for my life would be. That was alone, in a trailer home, eating a TV dinner and watching Wheel of Fortune. Well one evening in Chicago I decided I would try cooking myself some bratwurst from the supermarket. I turned on the stove and popped the TV on in the background. Prior to that Fall I had mostly just had my Mom’s cooking and dorm food. So I cooked the sausage to the best of my ability. I sit down to eat it and spit the meat out immediately. The middle of the sausage is still cold and raw.  And just at that moment I hear on the TV “.. Pat I would like to buy an O”. Sure enough there are three O’s. Ding, ding, ding.” My tiny cockroach infested apartment, the lumpy $45 futon to sleep on from target. That moment I dreaded was more than a reality. And trailer home and the TV dinner sounded significantly much more appealing than the raw meat and roaches.

There was one friend who I leaned on during that time. I went to high school with Nate Statezni. He was going to school at the University of Chicago. I moved in to the apartment I did because it was close to where has was living. If you remember the Lord of the Rings story if I was Frodo, he would have been Sam. Every Sunday he picked me up for church. He would call me 10 minutes before picking me up. He would drive me to church and afterword’s we would usually go for lunch. I love Chicago style pizza.

Sunday nights were the darkest part of my week. The sunlight would dwindle away across the Chicago skyline. The blackness would stretch across me. The next voices I hear would be those angry voices. The next faces I would see are those angry faces. How can I face the morning? How can I even get up?

January 28, 2003 was right at the midpoint of the school year. So that was the day I gave my second term exams. One student in a fit of anger ripped up his test and stormed out of the classroom. I said off handedly, “Well you aren’t going to get a passing grade like that.” He caught word of this from one of the other students and decided he would stop by after school and rough me up. He was a defensive lineman on the football team. He was easily more than a hundred pounds heavier than me and all muscle. He never got the chance to take a swing at me. At one point he had me slammed up again a locker. I just did my best to get away from him. Before anything serious was able to happen I caught sight of a security guard. The student pleaded innocent and left.

In many ways the 29th was worse than the 28th. When I came to the building I was no longer a first year teacher, I was a first year teacher that had been attacked. The students clearly looked at me different. Every teacher had a different opinion about what I should or shouldn’t do. But the real issue was that the administration was not going to pursue any legal action. I alone would have to pursue justice, if I wanted justice. This sense came over me THAT was not what I came here to do. It was clear that this was the time to resign.

I find that when I tell people about these events there are usually two ways in which they response. The first way is abundantly false. The second is true, but frankly it barely scratches the surface of what that six months was about.

The first response is “Dave that’s horrible. You should have never gone through something like that. Hated by you students and abandoned by you administration? That is no way to start a teaching career. It just wasn’t worth it.”

To that I respond no, no, no, ABSOLUTELY NOT! Certainly I have regrets about the day in and day out choices I made during those six months. Who wouldn’t? But if you asked me a thousand times, “Would you go through those six months all over again?” Every single time I would say yes!

Now you ask “But why?” Before I answer that let me tell you about the other response.

The second response is as follows: “Well done Dave. You were called to go and you went. You were asked to serve and you did. You don’t know all the wonderful things that will happen in those kids lives twenty years down the road because of those months you spent in South Chicago. God will work all those things for the good.”

To that statement I say, “Yes. Good. Right. That is all true. But if you asked me to go through those six months again and the ONLY HOPE that you could give me was this hypothetical abstract concept of good things happening at some time in the future I would say that I can’t go! I can’t do it! For some abstract good in the far off future? That’s not enough to relive those six months. That blackness was too black. The loneliness was too bleak. And the tears cut too deep.”

“But Dave you just said with a thousand times to do it again you said you would?” And I would say “Yep! No doubt!”

It is good and true that there is a God that makes good out of our suffering. But was it really important “Is there a God who is WITH those who are suffering.” Time after time in the New Testament it is said God’s grace and peace be WITH you. And in the Old Testament Joseph having been lied about, thrown in jail and abandoned it says “But while Joseph was there in prison the Lord was WITH him and showed him kindness.” If my two little daughters learn nothing else from me I want them to know the sweetness of Joseph’s jail cell at the end of Genesis 39!

In early November of 2002, two and a half months before the attack, the last of my enthusiasm was being squeezed out of me and in to that school. My buddy Nate brought me a CD with a bunch of sermons on it including a sermon by the title “The Radical Cost of Following Christ.”  That one sermon became bedrock for me; an anchor for me in that roach filled apartment. What I was longing for was my Mom’s cooking. I was longing for my Dad’s hugs. I was longing for my brothers’ laughter. And I longing for distance hope of a wife and kids. And that sermon said, “There is something better than all that Dave and it is RIGHT HERE!” The worst nights I had there, I would put that sermon on loop on my computer, so if I would wake in the middle of the night I would hear it.

There is a quote in that sermon from a Scottish missionary in the South Pacific. John Patton was ministering to the cannibal tribes of island chain known today as Vanuatu. His wife and child had both died from disease. A nearby cannibal tribe had decided to rise up to kill him. Some other natives had told Patton if were to hide in a tree and wait there, the hostile natives would pass and when the coast was clear he can follow a path down to where there is a boat. Then he could leave the island safely.

And imagine as I am listening to these words I am in the blackness and isolation of one of those Sunday nights. The next morning, I’ve got to teach something like the area of a parallelogram to a room full of teenagers who hate me. And every fiber of my being is screaming “You can’t do this! How can you survive the morning?”

So this is what Patton wrote:

I climbed into the tree and was left there alone in the bush. The hours I spent there live all before me as if they were but yesterday. I heard the frequent discharging of muskets, and the yells of the Savages. Yet I sat there safe in the arms of Jesus. Never, in all my sorrows, did my Lord draw nearer to me, and speak more soothingly in my soul, than when the air played on my throbbing brow, as I told all my heart to Jesus. Alone, yet not alone! If it be to glorify my God, I will not grudge to spend many nights in such a tree, to feel again my Savior’s spiritual presence, to enjoy His consoling fellowship. If thus thrown back on your own soul, alone, all alone, in the midnight, in the bush, in the very embrace of death of death itself, have you a Friend that will not fail you then.

So I listen to this on my lumpy $45 target futon, with the roaches in the closet and crummy food in the fridge, in MY midnight, thrown back on MY soul. And I think, “This is a vacation compare to Patton’s midnight. Yet there he found delight.”

And I am reminded lyrics from the old time hymns:

Because he lives I can face tomorrow.

Because he lives all fear is gone.

Because I know he holds the future.

And life is worth the living just because he lives.

As well as:

There’s no other we can turn to, that can help us face another day.

Gentle Shepard come and feed us. For we need you to help us find our way.

And as the moonlight flickers … snow starts to fall on the fire escape, outside, three feet from my face. Silently falling.

I am calm. I fade off to sleep.

Alone.

Yet not alone.

A little snap shot from our household

I had not posted on my blog in a long while and I thought I would share what my life this last Tuesday looked like. But this is NOT about the chaos of teaching incoming Freshman Pre-Calculus students in a semester when the math department is implementing new software; although that did take up pretty much most of that day. What I wanted to tell you about was the pocket of time during the late afternoon and early evening I spent with my wife and daughter. A little time to not think about grades or software or lesson plans. Tuesday was Rachel’s original due date. So there are very few days left that we are going to be just a family of three. After I was done teaching we decided to go to the park. Rachel had found online that there is this big park on the North East side of town. Here is a picture.

This park is themed around two of Aleah’s favorite things, butterflies and curly slides. Now she is not yet two and a half. So although there were a couple slides that she went down by herself, most of the others were too big. She went down one of those on my lap. It was really exciting for her. The funny thing is when at home she often is bouncing off the walls. But the moment we reach a big park where she can run around, she is kind of memorized. She did running around some of the time, but she mostly stood still watching the other kids.

After playing we went to Culvers for supper. There is nothing like greasy burgers and ice cream. This seemed to be the point when Aleah’s energy came back. I wonder if subconsciously Aleah is thinking, “Running at the playground isn’t fun, because I am allowed to run there. But running in a restaurant, now THAT is fun.” So she was bouncing in our booth, out of our booth, over our booth and nowhere near our booth. I was nominated to sit next to her in light of the fact that I’m not growing a human in my uterus.

Then this happened. She was bouncing around on the seat next to me. I put my arm around her to tell her to settle down a little. She bounced right on to my lap, arms wrapped tight around my neck. I really am not sure how long we sat there; I would guess maybe 3 or 4 minutes. I sat there, just holding her while Rachel ate her meal. The only real breaks were when she would sit up to smile at me, and then she would flop her head back over my shoulder. Since the school year started last week I have been around a lot less. And when I have been around I have often been distracted with grading quizzes and such. But here in Culvers she had my undivided attention.

There are times when Fatherhood can overwhelm me. It almost seems like an impossible task. Then add the fact that I grew up in a family of all boys. And I think it is well documented that females tend to be more complicated than males. The complication level is about to increase with another little girl arriving any day.

But in this moment with my little one on my lap things seemed to come in to perspective. Yes, there are complicated and confusing things on the horizon. There will be moments when I say “How can I attempt to deal with these girls?” But at the same time, there are important things that I can provide; things I can provide in abundance. There are three that come to mind. Three things that, at the drop of a hat, at a moment’s notice, I can say “Sugar I’ve got this one.”

1) Daddy will you dance with me.
2) Daddy will you hug me.
3) Daddy will you pray with me.

Are those three things enough? I have no delusions that they are. There complications that I can’t begin to fathom. But there will be moments when one or more of these three things is exactly what my daughters need. And that’s a really good place to start.

Thanks’ for reading my blog. I hope to post again soon, maybe less than 18 months.

Championship Sunday: A random assortment of thoughts

Championship Sunday: A random assortment of thoughts

Happy Championship Sunday everyone. That’s right the AFC and NFC Championship games, the Sunday where legends are made. Where the super Bowl is great, most of what it is about is hype and commercialism. This weekend is about Football!

I am celebrating the day by updating my blog and slow cooking a turkey! Actually that is not entirely true. Yes I am doing both those things, but the main reason is not because of the games. Friday Rachel were out shopping and I saw a 4lb bird in the frozen foods and said “You know that would fit in the Crock pot”. And the updating my blog is more about insomnia then anything else. But hey Championship Sunday is a good reason too.

So Since I rarely update I want to make it worth it. Three times in 13 months is not that much. And my thoughts are mostly random and not actually that much about football.

This is my (hopefully) last semester at LSU. I was just thinking about how radically different my life is now then when I started here four and a half years ago. Today I am married to a beautiful woman. We have an adorable little 8 month old girl bouncing in her jumper in the kitchen, eating pureed avocado and banana, and giggling each morning when the sun pours in her window. I can’t wait until she can talk. I am certain there are seasoned parent out there saying, “But once she starts she won’t stop.” But I look forward to talking with her, telling her was an amazing joy it has been for her to come into her mother and my life.

(On a side note I also look forward to telling her about the legends of Championship Sunday. How Peyton Manning finally took down his playoff nemesis Tom Brady in the final minute of the AFC Championship. I have it on tape. Someday, my daughter and I … will watch)

My life could not have been any more different four and a half years ago. I arrived in Baton Rouge in early August of 2006. All my earthly possessions were crammed into my little Blue car with a clamshell strapped to the roof. And I start working as a Graduate Assistant in the LSU math department.

That was also the August that Steve Colton died. Mr Colton was the band director at my old high school. He was a member of my Dad’s church, a pillar in the community, a mentor, a role model and friend to hundreds of people. It was a profound loss for every live he touched. This amplified my homesickness tenfold. All I wanted to do was to go home. I wanted to go to the funeral. I wanted to walk the halls of my highschool and talk with my former teachers and classmates. I wanted to see Mr Colton’s three kids and hug them and talk with them about hold Mr Colton had impacted my life. But I couldn’t. I had just arrive. Classes were starting. I had a job to do.

It became abundantly clear there was no one with in an eight-hour driving radius who had known me for more then two weeks. That is a lonely feeling. And the only one that I could turn to was God. Pastor Scott is Senior Pastor at the church I attend here in Baton Rouge. He had just started a sermon series on the Gospel of John. At the tail end of chapter 1 he drew an interesting parallel between Jesus calling Phillip and the story of Jacob fleeing from his brother. In both cases they are leaving home. The image of Jacob sleeping in the desert alone was very vivid for me at that point. I also might add since then God has brought “Rachel” into my life and I didn’t have to wait 14 years.

This morning I went out to pick up the ingredients for the crock-pot turkey. As I was driving home I was listening to the Christian radio station and they were talking about how the Christian life is about relationship with God. Now I would like to say that word relationship is often over used in today’s Christian culture, while in contrast the word reverence is underused. Not all the time, but some times. God is holy and relationship with out reverence does not acknowledge who he is. But he is a loving Father. He does want relationship with his children.

Listening to this on the radio I was struck with how different life was in August of 2006. My relationship with God was all I had. It was a feeling of desperation. He was the only one I could turn to. Today I have a wife and baby I can turn to, for better or for worse.

Now I really want to acknowledge that being single is really tough. It is a hard path to walk and I walked it until I was 30. I love my wife and daughter and would not trade them for the world. And for those who have walked that path longer then I have, you have paid your dues. But Paul is right when he talks about the divided loyalty of a married man. When I was single relationship with God was more at the forefront of my thinking. It should be just as vivid for my now, because of my wife and kid. But marriage is community. Marriage is relationship. I need to fight to remember that HE is the reason I have this relationship.

I had another thought about Mr Colton. He was very talented at what he did and very successful as well. He had top rankings at most of his band competitions, many All State musicians came from his tutelage and he was revered statewide. But I think those who knew him would agree with me that he was a pretty humble guy. It wasn’t about him; it was about the music. And I want to be like him in that.

Rachel and I were talking recently about coming to the end of graduate school. And she said to me, “You like the thought of being Dr Dave, don’t you?” Ouch! That’s tough. It is difficult not to place your worth in you accomplishments. But whether I feel it or not I and just as needy as the lonely kid from Iowa newly arrived in Louisiana. And even now I am waiting to hear from people for job interviews. That’s a rather desperate feeling. But hopefully the job offer will come. And when it is his provision. My hope is in him, not the job. May I never boast except in Jesus Christ and him crucified. That’s the way Mr Colton lived his life. I hope to live mine that way too.

Well enjoy the games. I think it is going to be Green Bay and Pittsburgh. And maybe I will update again before the next Championship Sunday.

NFL 2009 parity wheel.

So there was an online post of an NFL 2010 parity wheel created by danchan22 at Reddit. It basically shows a cycle in which every team has won a game against the next team in the sequence. All 32 teams are present, so the wheel represents 32 games in which every team has one exactly win and exactly one loss. Here is a link to the wheel:

http://voices.washingtonpost.com/early-lead/2010/11/nfl_parity_exists_because_ther.html

Now I saw a post where someone stated "the complete win-lose circle actually happened for the first time ever in NFL history". The seemed extremely unlikely to me. The majority of teams in any given year end up with roughly the same number of wins as losses. Last year 13 out of the 32 teams ended with at least 7 wins and at least 7 losses. Thats about 40%. Those teams will be very easy to fit into a parity wheel

Now what is tricky is the teams with either very few wins or losses. But that just means finding those games that the teams with winning records lost and the games teams loosing records won and fitting those into a wheel. Now this might mean the wheel is not easy to find. But that doesn't mean it won't exist.

Clearly there are seasons that do not have such a wheel. The 72 dolphins were 12 and 0. The 2008 Lions were 0 and 16. If a team doesn't have one win and one loss a wheel won't exist. But last year the St Louis Rams were 1 and 15 with their only win over the Lions. That means if a wheel exists that Lions-Rams game must be in that wheel. So does a wheel exist for the 09 season? It turns out one does.


I haven't made it up as pretty as danchan22, but this is a parity wheel for the 2009 season. Each team won at least one game against the NEXT team on the list. The final team (the Rams) beat the first team (the Lions) as already mentioned:

1) Detroit Lions
2) Washington Redskins
3) Denver Broncos
4) San Diego Chargers
5) Cleveland Browns
6) Jacksonville Jaguars
7) Houston Texans
8) Cincinnati Bengals
9) Baltimore Ravens
10) Kansas City Chiefs
11) Pittsburg Steelers
12) Tennessee Titans
13) Miami Dolphins
14) New England Patriots
15) New York Jets
16) Carolina Panthers
17) New Orleans Saints
18) Buffalo Bills
19) Indianapolis Colts
20) Arizona Cardinals
21) Seattle Seahawks
22) San Francisco 49ers
23) Chicago Bears
24) Minnesota Vikings
25) New York Giants
26) Dallas Cowboys
27) Oakland Raiders
28) Philadelphia Eagles
29) Atlanta Falcons
30) Tampa Bay Buccaneers
31) Green Bay Packers
32) St Louis Rams

There is a quick way to check if my work here is right. Here is a link to the season:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NFL_2009#Final_regular_season_standings

Pick your favorite team and click the "Details" link by their record. Scroll down to season schedule. Teams in green are from games won and teams in red are from games lost. You should be able to find the NEXT team on the above list highlighted in green. Click on that team and repeat with the next team. This list should take you to all 32 teams exactly once.

Now note that the team you need to click might have split two games. So for 23) Bears the next team is the Vikings. The Bears lost to the Vikings on Nov 29th they won the second game on Dec 28th. The Vikings link will be red because of the first loss, but this won't be a problem because the second game where the Bears won will be the game on the wheel. Also the Giants won both there games over the Cowboys so either game would fit this wheel.


My next question would be does such a wheel exist for the 1985 season? That list would have the Bears at the top and the Miami Dolphins at the bottom representing the Bears only loss.

I will trade you three Iguanas for a honeymoon photo.

This story starts two years ago this month. We took some gorgeous photos in the mountains of North Carolina. It was a good time.

At the end of August, Rachel and I arrived in Baton Rouge after a lovely honeymoon. One of the goals at that point was to gather all of our digital photos and put them together the same (an hopefully secure) place. Five months earlier in March, Rachel got a flash drive with a ton of memory on it. We decided to transfer the pictures onto there. For those of you keeping tabs of Rachel's blog her post March 15th of '08. Here is an excerpt:

“I thought I'd get an USB flash drive with lots of memory and start transferring away. ... I didn't want to buy one without a brand name of some sort listed. So there were some cute sleek ones, but no brand name. ...In the end, ...I only paid about 9 bucks. I got one that is black with some green on it and is also waterproof because I like to sit at my computer desk and drool excessively and sometimes randomly throw water at stuff. Oh, and this brand (Adata, which I've never heard of and my brother will probably write and tell me it's the worst in the universe) had a much cuter one in black and orange and I like orange better than green, but the green one was cheaper.”

In the comment section of that post was the following:

Sheldon said... I've had Adata stuff - should be fine.

Cue the dramatic music indicating some ironic doom is impending. That Fall we continued putting our photos on the drive. Then in that next spring, about a year after buying it, the flash drive that had been cute, sleek and green was still green. However it was neither cute nor sleek. There was a virus that had corrupted the drive and most of the data that had been saved was inaccessible. But not to worry the data was still on my computer. By the way if you reread the March 15th we still had Rachel's computer that was slow and had next to no memory space on it.

At the beginning of April we got a hold of my friend Chris in the Math department. He was able to reconstruct the majority of the photos from the flash drive and put them on a CD. Then out of the blue the monitor on Rachel's computer fried and the mother board of MY computer fried. But the data was still on the hard drive. No sweat. So we decided to get a new computer and we transfered everything from the two older hard drives and the CD over to the new computer. Over the next eight months Rachel's slow computer sat in the closet, my broken computer sat in Chris' office and our lovely new computer sat at our desk. We had been meaning to back up the data on the computer, but there really wasn't much to worry about. All the data was one one of those computer. And what could happen. Cue the next dramatic music indicating more ironic doom is impending.

We went to visit family up north over Christmas and our apartment was broken into. They were targeting electronics. They took our new computer and my ipod. Very upsetting, but at the same time not that much to worry about because we still have the hard drives from the old computers, right?

Fast forward another eight months. We just got a new laptop so it is time once again to back up the photos and get them together. Ideally we would like to recover all the photos. But there are specific groups of photos like Engagement pictures, Wedding pictures and Honeymoon picture. Well the Engagement pictures and Wedding pictures were all accounted for. However we took a little over 400 photos during our honeymoon and they were not together in the same place. Mostly because as we were sight seeing Rachel and I had separate cameras. The CD reconstruction of the no-so-cute-not-so-sleek flash drive turned up about two thirds of the photos. The obvious place to find the missing photos was the hard drive of my old computer with the busted mother board. We just transfer the data over to the new computer. No problem right? The plot thickens yet again. Back up to when we first bought the computer that ended up stolen, just before the mother board fried. The new computer was set up and all the data was transferred. I asked Chris if we could set up my old computer with a new installation of Window for a back up. He said sure, he reinstalled windows and boom that was when the mother board fried.That's why it had been sitting in his office for months and months. Back to today we access the hard drive and the memory has been erased. A third of the honeymoon photos are just gone.

So I am about cover my self in ash and wail to to the heavens. But then enter the heroes of our story, Jeff and Nic, the tech guys from the top floor of the math building. The very last thing that had been done to the hard drive was a re-installation of Windows. Up to that point the data had been there. If the computer had been in use all the time the data would be completely gone. But there is software out there that can reconstruct data that has been wiped, provided it hasn't been written over. Well the new copy of Windows had been installed. My only hope was that the part of the data that had been wiped out by that was some old saved game of Roller Coaster Tycoon and not the scenery of North Carolina.

After some time they had reconstructed a ton of pictures. The first run turned up most of the missing photos about 90%. They checked again and there was record of all the photos was took 410 in all of which 401 were either on the new computer, or accessed by the old computer. That's a 98% recovery. Pretty incredible if you think about it. The big question was what were those 9 remaining photos. Eight of those photos that would have been flowers or arches or staircases in Bildmore. And honestly we have dozens of photos of those exact flowers and archways just at different angles and such. If that's all that is missing not bad. However when driving through the mountains we had asked a random fellow tourist if she would take our photo with the Mountains in the background. The 9th and last missing photo was that one. That is what you would call an irreplaceable photo. Now I will note that picture is on Rachel's blog. But it is the resized cropped picture. It isn't the original. Not too bad, but still.

Now what does any of that have to do with Iguanas? Well I'll tell you. Just before the cute and sleek flash drive became the not-so-cute-not-so-sleek flash drive Rachel's former room mate Bethany came to visit. It was in November '08 right before Thanksgiving. Jump ahead a little over a year to January of 2010 when we just had our computer stolen. We had some old memory cards that had pictures on them. The earliest of which were from that trip. We decided back those pictures up. During that trip they went to a nature sanctuary. They took this photo:




As I mentioned Chris reconstructed the no-so-cute-not-so-sleek flash drive we got a ton of pictures including THIS photo:




Nic and Jeff did a great job reconstructing the hard drive. Like I said 98% recovery on the honeymoon pictures. They also got a bunch of other pictures including THIS PHOTO:





I mean it is a nice looking Iguana. But really if we never sow THAT photo again would we even remember it. And the fact that we three original sized un-cropped copies of the same Iguana. But only a resized cropped picture of us in the mountains. We would gladly trade all three of these Iguana pictures for that one shot.


But the story is not quite over. This morning I stopped by Nic's office to see how the recovery turned out. He found a bunch more pictures including THIS PHOTO!!!!



Yes that is the one. I can say at this point 100% recovery on the honeymoon photos. I mean I'll have to check for those flowers and archways. But in terms of what's important, we've got'm. Good job guys.

So what is it like being born in 2010?

Dear Kumkwat,

So what is it like being born in 2010? What memories will you have? I suppose in a sense you only really know what it is like being born in the year you were actually born. So being born in 1978 my first memories are of Pac-man and E.T. and Rubik's cubes. What are the things that influence your early memories? It is funny to think that you will feel the same way about Pac Man and Rubik's cubes as I do about the decade of my dad's first memories; of Howdy Doody and Buddy Holiday and I Love Lucy.

What about your mother and me? How do you think we have done as parents? What have we done right? What have we doen wrong? What do you wish we had done differently? This has been on my mind a lot lately. Here I am coming to the end of 2009 with you kicking inside your Mommy's tummy. And so today, how should I think, how should I act, how should I pray in order to do right by you as a father?

There are many things I would hope that you would say if you were to reflect on our parenting. I hope that we have parented in such a way that you are tender hearted. That you want to be kind. That you would be compassionate. That you would think of others beofre yourself.

Even more so I would hope that you would be wise. Not just knowlegable. Not just understanding. But wise. That your words may benifit those who hear them. And even as I think about it being truly wise would mean you were truly compassionate. That you would be truly tender hearted towards others.

But even if you lived a life that was both wise and compassionate and that was it, I would feel like I failed you as a father. You see my life, you mother's life and or marriage together are rooted in both these things. But they are secondary to us. The primary foundation for us is Christ. I mean if nothing else I fully intend that you will know, "Yeah Dad is a passionate guy. He is passionate about math, about the NFL, about Star Trek. But there is nothing that he is more passionate about then Jesus."

That is acually more important to me. So on the one hand you might end up saying, "Man he was great Dad. He was loving. He was a good listener. He was strong. He alway made time. But this God that he beleives in doesn't really cut it for me." Honestly that would break my heart. But on the other hand if you said, "You know my Dad made lots of mistakes. There were times when he wasn't wise, when he wasn't fair when he wasn't kind. But I trust the God he trusted". I mean I want to be wise, kind and fair. But lets face it I won't be all the time. I just long for you to look away from me and look to him.

But even so I would go even one step further. As bad a flat out rejection would be, it would be far worse if you called yourself a Christian simply out of obligaiton and think that the main reason to follow this God is because that was what Mom and Dad did. And then to come to the end of you life and realise it was just for show. That every one else thought you were a Christian, but deep down you were a fake. Oh that is far far worse.

I truly beleive if the evidence is weighed out Christ will win. Not me and not even an organization. But long after I am gone, Christ will win. So I long for you to say, "I want to be clear thinker. I want be be some one of reason." That will put a smile on my face. You bet it will. So if you were to come to me and say, "You know Dad, I know how much you love God. But I am having a hard time beleiving in him right now." If that day comes I hope to welcome you with open arms. And I want to walk along side you through that. In that day I want my faith to be shaken just as much as yours faith. I want you to live for Christ and I want you to see me doing the same.

I want to do right by you. I can't wait to meet you.

Your dad,

David H Chapman

Julie and Julia: my thoughts on the movie

I wanted to comment on the movie Julie and Julia which I saw this weekend (I really enjoyed it by the way), but I first wanted to reflect on a trip I took three years ago. In the summer of 2006 I spent a couple weeks with my grandparents at a beach house on the ocean in South Carolina. My two great Aunts and my great Uncle came to visit. So I was 28 at the time, spending my summer vacation with 5 people all between the ages of 75 and 85, representing over 400 years of life experience between them. .It was such a sweet time especially because it was the last time I saw my Aunt Pauline alive. Uncle Cliff told me about the battle of the Bulge and I told Uncle Cliff how to solve Sudoku puzzles. But there was one conversation that stands out to me that I had with my Aunt June. We were walking along the beach and I started asking her about what it was like for her while Uncle Cliff fighting in the War. What was significant to me was how brief her answers were, “We dated before the war but he broke up with me before he left”. “When he got back he needed some time to himself, but eventually he decided to ask me to marry him”, while she was quick to talk with me about what was happening in their lives today “There are several shut ins that we got to deliver food to during the week.” “At the hospital where I volunteer at there are people suffering with HIV who I care for.” Here comments did not put value upon herself rather upon something external. She didn’t want to talk about the days of old, she wanted to talk about the AIDS patients and the shut ins.



The movie Julie and Julia contrasts two individual of two distinct eras. One is Julia Child who was a diplomat’s wife during the McCarthy Era of the 1950’s, just a little older than my Aunt June was at the time. The other is Julie Powell a young professional in New York City writing a blog in 2002, who was just a little bit older than I was at the time. Now before I had seen the movie I heard a radio piece saying that the story line of Julia Child was compelling and engaging while the story line of Julie’s blog seem shallow and dry. I would agree with that statement. The radio critic said that it was because Meryl Streep’s performance as Julia was so much better than that of Amy Adams who played Julie. Although I agree that Meryl Streep gave an incredible performance, I think the reason Julie came across as shallow had less to do with the performers more to do with the script. And I believe the underlying reason has to do with the different societies each woman lived in.



The story follows each woman setting out to achieve a specific goal. Julia's goal is to write a cook book that will bring French recipes to American homes. Julie’s goal is to cook all 574 in Julia Child’s cook book over 365 days and blog about it. But the deeper question is not what the goal is that each of these women has, rather it is WHY they want to achieve this goal in the first place. When we are first introduced to Julia Child she has just moved to Paris and is looking direction in her life. When we are introduced to Julie Powell she has just moved to Queens and is also looking for direction in her life. To sum up the first 20 minutes of the film Julia says, “I love to eat. French food is spectacular. I want to teach Americans how to cook French food.” while Julie say “I have not had success as a writer, my day job is horrible. The place where I find PERSONAL fulfillment is cooking each night. Perhaps blogging through Julia’s book will make my job seem less miserable and maybe it could even spring board my writing career.” Notice the emphasis each woman has. Julia’s focus is external. The focus is on French food. Julie’s focus is internal. Although french food is PART of what she is doing, her main attention is on her career goals and her personal fulfillment.



Today culture is plagued by self esteem. It says that success starts with feeling good about yourself. I think this mentality has brought about a society that is shallow and superficial. Who are the true heroes? Are they the people who say, “I want to be a hero today. It would make me feel better about myself if I did”? Or are they the type of people who say, “Look there is a heroic task. No one seems willing to do it. Somebody should. Maybe I can.” if you look at these two types of people to quickly they might seem to be doing the same thing. But one is a hero of substance the other is not. And I don't want to say that the older generation is perfect. No generation is perfect. What I am saying is that in today's culture self esteem is not a strength, it is a weakness.



Now compared to say war heroes like my Uncle Cliff neither woman in this movie is that heroic. On the other extreme I’d say both women are much more heroic then I am. I could neither come up with those 574 recipes nor dream of cooking them in 365 days. But let’s be honest, what legacy has been left by each of these women? Julie Powell fed her husband and her friends over the course of a year, while entertaining people on a blog, later through a book and eventually through the movie that came out this weekend. In comparison, if the movie was accurate, Julia Child walked into Paris in 1949 knowing next to nothing about cooking and said “This food is amazing Americans need to be able to make it." And now I could go out and buy Julia Child from Barnes and Noble and omelet and crepe to my heart’s content. Which has the bigger impact? And buy the way while you are in Barnes and Noble I suggest you keep away from the self help section.



There has been a commercial on TV lately commemorating the 40th anniversary of the moon Landing. In it John F Kennedy says “We choose to go to the moon, not because it is easy, but because it is hard.” You don’t get to the moon by focusing on yourself. You get to the moon by focusing on the moon.