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Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Santa Claus Is Not Coming to Town

Tonight at CrossFit, a classmate asked if I had plans for Christmas. I had previously told her I wasn't sure if I was going home and when I told her that no, I didn't have plans for Christmas, she invited me to come hang out with her family. I eventually explained that I don't have plans for Christmas because I'm Jewish. She laughed and said the invitation was still good, and I thanked her.

As she was preparing to leave the gym after working out, she came to hug me and said, "If I don't see you before, Merry Christmas... Oh! Not Merry Christmas..." I told her I'm not one of those people who is offended by "Merry Christmas"; why would I be offended when someone is giving me nice wishes?

The thing is, I'm 23 years old now.

Image via http://www.clipartlord.com
Rewind a few years and I'm 5. Having attended a Jewish preschool, kindergarten was perhaps my first exposure to Santa Claus. In afterschool care one day, a classmate announced that his new shoes were from Santa. Like most other five-year-olds, I believed in Santa, but unlike most other five-year-olds, Santa did not come to my house. I was maybe a little jealous but mostly remember feeling baffled that Santa would know what size shoe to bring. I used to go to bed on Christmas Eve praying that Santa would come, but he never did.

My next Santa-related memory was two years later in second grade when we were given an assignment to write a letter to Santa Claus. Now keep in mind that I was still a Jewish kid whom Santa didn't visit, but I was only seven and still unsure about how exactly Santa worked. What was I supposed to say to this magical man who gave presents to all my classmates but never to me? My family was often told that Santa was not a religious symbol; fine, but that didn't change the fact that he came to my classmates' homes and not mine. My mom was volunteering in my class one day when we had computer lab and the teacher had her typing students' dictated letters. When it was my turn, I just came to her and cried.

When dealing with the "December Dilemma", it is so important to realize that children and adults will react differently. As a teenager and now adult, I will do just about anything Christmas-related if it's something my friends or non-Jewish family members invite me to do with them. I'll go to Christmas services at church, bake Christmas cookies, or help decorate a tree. While I don't put a tree or lights in my home, I am happy to celebrate with loved ones. I even dressed up as Santa Claus for Halloween my junior year of college!

Today if I were asked to write a letter to Santa, it would be a goofy activity that I would have lots of fun with. I am secure in my Jewish identity and I know that presents from Santa really come from parents. But as a seven-year-old, writing a letter to Santa was a truly traumatic experience.

From elementary school me to any teacher or caregiver deciding if a holiday project will be fun for all her students, please consider those in your class who do not celebrate Christmas. What is designed to be a lighthearted, innocent activity may be utterly confusing for some students. Christmas is a beautiful holiday and any extra sensitivity is not to take away from that, but rather to protect young children who cannot yet comprehend how to be non-Christian and still enjoy Christmas activities.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

One Human

Human Value Chart

Julie is a single mother of 4. Because of family instability, she barely made it through 10th grade before dropping out of high school. She currently works 35 hours a week as a cashier and cook at Wendy's and makes $7 per hour.

value of Julie.......................................................................................ONE HUMAN



Jake is a CEO of a major corporation and works a lot, sometimes over 70 hours per week. He and his partner Jim live in a house worth $1.2 million. Jake has a PhD in marketing from UT Austin and makes $600,000 per year.

value of Jake......................................................................................ONE HUMAN



Juan snuck into the United States illegally from Mexico two years ago and has been doing manual labor on a private farm for $3 per hour. His girlfriend is still in Mexico with their young son and Juan sends money to support them whenever he can.

value of Juan......................................................................................ONE HUMAN



Theresa worked as a prostitute at a brothel that also dealt heroin. She tried to stay out of the drug side of the business but inevitably got caught up in it and is now serving five years in a low-security prison. She wears an orange jumpsuit seven days a week but has no regrets about her life choices that led to this point.

value of Theresa.................................................................................ONE HUMAN



Person X is X years old. (S)he works for X company and makes X dollars per hour. Person X has X family members and lives in X with X. (S)he practices X religion and is a member of X political party. (S)he spends free time doing X. Person X uses X for transportation, has X medical issues, and has been arrested X times.

value of Person X...............................................................................ONE HUMAN



And God created man in His image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.
Genesis 1:27 (Jewish Publication Society, 1999)

Thursday, September 17, 2015

School Days

I just found this cute poem and thought I'd share. I'm disappointed that there is not a date on the paper but based on the handwriting I suspect I wrote it in 9th grade or later.
Image via http://www.berkeley.k12.sc.us
You start formal school when you're just five years
Filled with excitement and hope, but also fears

You show up with your mom or dad on that very first day
Ready to work hard but mostly you just want to play

Your backpack is so big and your new shoes squeak
The world is a big place and you're feeling quite meek

Soon you become accustomed to your school and its ways
After all, it is now where you spend most of your days

Before long you're eight and third grade is starting
You no longer fear leaving your parents since you are used to the parting

You've grown taller and morphed into a kid
You no longer look as little as you once did

Your learn cursive this year, as well as math and spelling
But that great big playground is still so compelling

More years pass and now you're eleven
Finally moving to middle school seems like it will be heaven

Sixth grade starts and you're ready for a change
But your new middle school seems so strange

You're still just eleven and the big kids are fourteen
You smile at them and hope they won't be mean

You learn to work your locker and are excited to see
That many of your friends also have Lunch B

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Branching Out

My mom has one sister and my dad has two brothers. When I was born, I was the first grandchild on both sides of the family. My brother was born when I was not quite 3 and my uncle's two daughters were born when I was 7 and 9, respectively. My mom's sister did not have children and neither did any of her three first cousins nor my dad's mom's brother, so I have no first or second cousins on my mom's side and no second cousins through my paternal grandmother. My dad's dad's brother and his wife did have three children and each had 2-3 children of their own. So in summary, I have a grand total of 1 sibling, 2 first cousins, and 7 second cousins, as well as 2 step-first cousins and 3 step-second cousins, quite a small family by most standards.

I've been a little sad about this for some time. I have friends who have several nieces and nephews and I see pictures on Facebook with the grandparents and their umpteen grandchildren posing together at a reunion. We don't have that in my family. My mom's dad has my brother and me and my dad's parents have 4 grandchildren. Including by marriage, I have 2 aunts and 3 uncles.

A few years ago, in an effort to consolidate the various paper family trees my parents have as well as to help remember to whom I am related and how, I made an account on a genealogy website and plugged in the information from the trees. I now have more than 400 people in my online tree and recently realized I have a lot of third cousins. While the offspring of my parents' siblings total just 2, the descendants of my great-grandparents' siblings are numerous and I have not even found all the names yet. Sure, we don't share a set of grandparents or even great-grandparents, but we do share a set of great-great-grandparents and every person in the infinite number of generations before that, and to me, that still means family.

Just this week I have taken to Facebook to connect with more relatives. I am so excited to be in touch with many of my and my parents' first, second, and third cousins and their children. Did I really think I came from a small family?!

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Being 23

I was just a 4th grader when then-23-year-old John Mayer released his album Room for Squares but now, upon rediscovering a few of the songs as a young adult, I've realized Mayer's album, and three songs specifically, perfectly epitomize many aspects of my own experience as a 20-something.



My stupid mouth
Has got me in trouble
I said too much again
What a boring story, Sarah. Why did you share that? Couldn't you tell by one minute in that she wasn't interested anymore and was just politely nodding, hoping you'd hurry up and finish?

I'm never speaking up again
It only hurts me
And I did it again. Gosh, why do I even try talking when I'm just bound to end up saying something stupid or offensive?

'Cause I wonder sometimes
About the outcome
Of a still verdictless life
Am I living it right?
I graduated with a Bachelor of Individualized Studies degree when I could have finished the Bachelor's in Elementary Education if I had stuck around for another year and a half. I'd be done this December! But now I am starting a master's program in education and will still be certified to teach. Did I make the better choice?

Don't believe me

When I say I've got it down
I go to work, pay my bills, feed the dog, clean the bathroom, go to the gym. Just don't mind the weeds in the yard or the dead flowers on the dining room table.

Welcome to the real world
She said to me condescendingly
Take a seat, take your life
Plot it out in black and white
Whatever happened to the four-year plan I made at a grade-wide meeting with our parents in 9th grade? Ah yes, I switched schools the very next year. And the kinesiology degree plan I spent hours studying both in my dorm and in my advisor's office? I guess that too became obsolete when I changed my degree plan two years into college.

I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real word
Just a lie you've got to rise above
Five years out of high school and what do I have to show? I have a bachelor's degree, so I guess that's something. My parents still support me financially while I continue my education. Some classmates have spouses, children, or summa cum laude degrees and work at salaried jobs or are in medical school or MBA programs. But while it's temping to compare myself to my peers who are doing subjectively better or worse than I am, I know that none of that really matters; we are each valued at one human, no more and no less.

And all of our parents, they're getting older

I wonder if they wished for anything better
My parents have two children, a 23-year-old education student and a 20-year-old EMT student. Nearly the past quarter century of their lives has revolved around us. Is this what they wanted? 

I am invincible as long as I'm alive
We get behind the wheel of a car for the first time at 15 or 16 thinking we're absolutely invincible. Only several years later when we'd probably need a third hand to count all of the friends, acquaintances, and friends of friends who have been in a major car crash or are dead from drug overdose or suicide do we realize we humans are so very, very fragile. 

Monday, July 6, 2015

This Is News?

One of the big stories on social media today is the following: Abby Wambach Kisses Wife After Win. Yes, after the USA won the Women's World Cup, Wambach ran to the stands to find her wife and give her a kiss. But my question is, why is this news? Isn't the point of the gay rights movement for gay people to be treated the same as everyone else? If teammate Alex Morgan publicly kissed her husband after the big game or Carli Lloyd kissed her fiancé, would that be major news? I think not.

There is nothing noteworthy about Abby Wambach kissing Sarah Huffman yesterday. The fact that the media latched onto this special moment between partners and turned it into such a big deal means that they have missed the point of the gay rights movement- or at least whatever gay rights movement I am behind. I simply don't care whether someone is gay or straight. I see sexual orientation as just one small piece of each beautifully complex human being with traits such as kindness and honesty ranking far higher in importance than sexual orientation.

Abby deserved to be in the news today, but not in a frivolous story about a kiss. Is sexual orientation really the most important component of this internationally acclaimed soccer star? My hope is that someday, instead of being all over the news the next day, a kiss after a big win might just be left as a personal moment between an athlete and her biggest fan and that the media might focus their attention on things far more important than a star's sexual orientation.

Friday, June 26, 2015

SCOTUS Gay Marriage Ruling:
We Missed The Real Issue

Hooray, gay marriage! That's what I've been seeing all over social media today. And no, I'm not upset about the Supreme Court ruling. I believe sexual orientation develops similarly to handedness (being right or left handed) with some combination of genetics and environment and is largely unchangeable. It's not the ruling that is wrong; it's the fact that this issue even had to come up in the first place.

Where in the Constitution is the government given any authority over personal relationships and marriages? Hint: The answer is nowhere. Therefore, the government's issuing of marriage licenses to anyone, opposite or same sex, is unconstitutional.

Gay Americans want the same legal perks that heterosexual Americans have in marriage: tax advantages, homeownership, hospital visitation rights, end of life decisions, etc. But why are these rights tied to marriage in the first place? There should be neither legal perks nor disadvantages to being partnered and/or married; all of the legal advantages currently given to married couples should be available to everyone. Both single and partnered individuals should be able to identify an emergency contact to make critical healthcare decisions in case of incapacitation. Any competent individual(s) should be allowed to adopt a child. Why is being legally married necessary for any of these scenarios?

Let's leave the defining of personal relationships and marriage to religious institutions and individuals and their family and friends. It is unconstitutional to give legal perks to heterosexual couples that homosexual couples cannot enjoy. It is also unconstitutional to demand that a clergy member officiate the wedding of two men or two women or that a caterer serve at a gay wedding.

In summary, get the government out of personal relationships, whether heterosexual or homosexual. It has no constitutional right to be there.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Tips for Picking A Baby Name

With so many names from which to choose, naming a baby can be overwhelming. Fortunately, these tips will assist you in choosing a name that is just as original as your little bundle of joy.

Image via http://cliparts.co/cliparts/6cy/XRE/6cyXREMEi.png

1. Avoid choosing a name that was in the top 100 last year. Remember, you want your child to be original.

2. Check the top names list from 1900 and steer clear of any name that was in the top 500, or even top 1000 to be safe. You're having a modern baby, after all!

3. Check the spelling you are considering. If it's the most popular spelling for the selected name, your child may struggle with individuality later in life. Even the second most common spelling might put your child at risk. Choose a creative spelling to help ensure a high self confidence for your child throughout his or her life.

4. Consider inventing your own name! Look around you; what do you see? Maybe a couch, table, some bowls? Use your surroundings as inspiration. Any of these could be amazingly creative names for your newborn.

5. Choose a name that is more common for the opposite gender than for your child's. If you are having a boy, ideal names include ones that were given at a rate of at least 90% to girls as of the most recent statistics available. However, do not choose a name for your son that is listed as being given 100% to girls last year; you don't want your child to be bullied later on!

6. Take a fairly common name and individualize it by changing the first consonant sound. Many parents are choosing names that rhyme with "Aiden" lately, such as Brayden, Hayden, Kayden, Jayden, Layden, or Zayden. However, to be most original, insert a less common consonant sound at the beginning, such as Dayden or Yayden. This formula can be used to individualize a variety of fairly common names, such as changing Sophia to Tophia or Nathan to Mathan.

With these tips in hand, you are sure to pick an amazing name for your baby! Just always remember to come to open house at the beginning of each school year to instruct your child's teacher on how to pronounce your child's name.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Spirals


I took this photo on May 28, 2012. Today is May 28, 2015. How did this photo happen to come to mind today? Facebook. Freakin Facebook. Normally I like to see what "On This Day" has pulled up for me, but not today. Not this photo.

I took this photo on my way to my summer job at a camp in Colorado. What a summer. It was a good experience with its ups and downs but ended sourly. Anger. That's what this photo reminds me of. That job is no more.

You can see my car in the photo. My 1999 Camry. The one that I rolled and totaled about 18 1/2 months after this photo. Terror. That's what this photo reminds me of. That car is no more.

That morning I said goodbye to my dogs Mali and Scout not positive I would ever see Mali again. She was already sick by then, although doing fairly well. She did make it through the summer but died the following spring just after her 13th birthday. Sadness. That's what this photo reminds me of. Mali is no more.

I took this shot because the scenery was breathtaking. That scenery is breathtaking. Who would have thought that seeing this photo three years to the day it was taken would make me feel anything but awe? But that's not how it makes me feel.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Red Sand and Mud

I wrote this for my AP English Language and Composition class in 11th grade. I believe the assignment was related to a poem we read in class but I don't remember the details.

Red Sand and Mud

I’m from Velcro shoes and monkey bars
From riding bikes in the street until dark
I’m from two percent milk and pretzel sticks
From sunscreen and bright colored socks

I’m from Mavis Beacon and Putt Putt Moon
And from tennis at Highpoint with Dad
I’m from the mulberry tree and the hiking area
From the red sand and the mud

I’m from play dates and swimming lessons
From the parks with their appointed names
I’m from Lunch Bunch and Campfire
And reading in the den with Mom

I’m from family Shabbat dinners and religious school
From the ’87 Camry and the bomb
I’m from library cards and state quarter collections
From snow boots outgrown before being worn

I’m from moments long gone
And memories that are distant
I’m from a simpler life that is behind me
From times I can just remember

Monday, May 4, 2015

News Flash: Your Workout Program is Not Better Than Theirs


Since the middle of January, I have been going to CrossFit four times a week as my main exercise. I'm having a lot of fun with it and getting stronger each week, but despite my excitement, I have been hesitant to tell lots of people about it. Why? To explain, let me tell you about some imaginary people's workout routines:

Alice goes to an hour-long yoga class every day before work (5 mornings per week). On the weekends she enjoys spending time with her kids playing in the backyard and going for family bike rides.

Nick plays on a competitive soccer team in the city league. His team practices four evenings a week and has at least one game most weekends.

Christina is a busy full-time mom who spends the first part of every morning getting her older kids off to school. Several days a week during her toddler's nap time, she puts him in the stroller and goes for a two-mile walk.

Joseph is into powerlifting and has won several local competitions. He trains five days a week with other serious lifters perfecting his form and increasing his lifts.

Mark goes to the gym three days a week and spends thirty minutes on an elliptical machine followed by thirty minutes of weight lifting on strength training machines.

Lynn runs fifty miles per week, including a long 15-20 mile run on Saturdays.

So the question is, who has the best workout routine? And the answer is... it depends on the person! Is her workout program helping her keep her objective health numbers in check, such as blood pressure, cholesterol, bone density, and body fat percentage? Does he enjoy his workout routine rather than viewing it as an unfortunate chore? If the individual can answer yes to these questions then it's a GOOD program! Everyone has different starting points, from morbid obesity to already quite fit, different goals, from winning national tournaments to reducing or maintaining body fat percentage, and everyone has different amounts of time to devote to their program.

So yes, I do CrossFit. Does that make me better than any other exerciser out there? No. Do I enjoy doing CrossFit? Yes. Is CrossFit the right program for everyone? No.

Let's worry about our own workout programs and stop demeaning others who have chosen different routes to staying fit and healthy than we have. Calling CrossFitters "crazy", serious lifters "meatheads", people who primarily do cardiovascular exercises "cardio bunnies", etc., has no place in the fitness community.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

The Year Was 9597


I was looking through old school files I have still saved on my computer when I came across this story I wrote as a 9th grader. Reading this for the first time in years, I am both shocked by the way my 15-year-old self saw the world and entertained by the creativity and ridiculousness of the story.

            The year was 9597 on the evening of July the 4th. Stupidity filled the air in George’s town of Hofenlofel. The air was quiet and full of helium. George was sitting in his living quarter in his bubble. His mother was preparing tenth-meal in the kitchen.
            “Excuse me, Mother. I don’t mean to be a bother, but I was wondering if it would be possible for you to tell me what we shall be having for tenth-meal?”
            “How dare you speak to your mother so rudely? We are having chocolate enchiladas. Also, I made a special celery sauce to spice it up. Mind your manners, stupid!” Without another word, Mrs. Shizzle walked out of the kitchen.
            Without moving a tentacle, George closed his eyeballs. He then proceeded to bend down so that all ten knuckles were touching the ground, and crawled to the prayer rug. He was, of course, a devout Bushan.
            “George, my lord,” he prayed to the god. His mother named him George in honor of George Bush, a martyr who lived hundreds of years previously and had died nobly to save his country, and for that he was eternally worshipped.
            “George, forgive me for my extreme rudeness to my mother!” Young George prayed.
            “You have been forgiveded!” A strong voice boomed.
            Young George slowly stood up. People lived fairly short lives in Hofenlofel and the surrounding towns, and at the age of twelve George was getting quite old.
            He was starting to prepare for the day when he would have a son. In Hofenlofel, you see, when a boy turned thirteen, he would find a bubble floating in the air and touch it. A baby boy would then begin to grow on his back. Three days later, the bubble on the boy’s back would burst and break his spine, quickly ending his life.
            This was what had happened to George’s father just twelve years before. At the age of seventeen, Mrs. Shizzle, like all Hofenlofalen females, had found the bubble of Frank Shizzle, George’s father. The bubble grew on the side of her body, and after just a few weeks it disconnected from Mrs. Shizzle and Palieta had been born. All Hofenlofalen women gave birth to female babies, and all the men gave birth to baby boys. Every person had only one bubble, with a few cases of people carrying two. The tragic part of the Hofenlofalen way of reproduction was that a couple always had their girl before their boy, and the boys never knew their fathers. Girls at least knew their fathers for a few years before they died giving birth to the boy.
            “Dinner, stupid!” Mrs. Shizzle loved her son greatly.
            “Mother, can you tell me more about my dad? Why must all the fathers die in our world?”           
            “It is the way of our culture. After about thirteen, boys carry a huge risk of becoming men.”
            “A man? What’s that?” George was very curious.
            “It is a species that lived several thousand years ago. You see, males used to live very long lives, almost as long as females, and-“
            “Really?”
            “Yes, George. Have I really failed to tell you this before, stupid?”
            “I suppose you have, Mother.”
            “Well then. As I was saying, years and years ago, males lived very differently. They never had babies; only women did. The baby grew in the woman’s belly, not her side or back.
            “Over the years, we evolved from these dumb humans into the far more intelligent dibderions we are today. Since this species called men were deemed so useless, they eventually began to die off at younger ages, until they died at thirteen like they do now.” Mrs. Shizzle smiled at her young son, waiting for his response.
            “Well I’m sure glad I don’t live in that stupid world,” commented George.
            George and Mrs. Shizzle decided to go for a stroll before tenth-meal. Mrs. Shizzle called Palieta to join them in the shuttle, but she didn’t want to go.
“We’re going to travel back in time to the time that males lived long lives like I was telling you,” said Mrs. Shizzle.
“Sounds super!” George was very excited.
A couple hours later, George and Mrs. Shizzle arrived on planet Earth. The year was all the way back in 2007. George and Mrs. Shizzle landed the shuttle on a large green space.
“This is called a field, stupid,” Mrs. Shizzle told her son.
“What are these peculiar green strands?” Asked George, picking small strands of a strange green, damp substance.
“I believe they are called grapes, but let me check the history book I brought along,” responded Mrs. Shizzle. A few moments later she returned to the spot where George was sitting on the grapes.
“I believe they actually call these strands grasses. It says you can just say grass, though. Let’s go explore, stupid!”
“Right behind you, Mother!” Called George.
Mrs. Shizzle led her son to a strange structure that, oddly enough, was not floating off the ground. There were some strange symbols on the structure. Mrs. Shizzle referred to her history book she had brought along.
            “I believe this symbol is called two. And the other symbols that look like circles are called zeros, but it says here that in this time period these humans call them O’s as well.”
            “Look at that strange creature!” shouted George, “He’s fat!”
            “Let me look at my book, stupid. One moment!” Mrs. Shizzle paused for a minute to consult her history book.
            “It says here that humans were often very fat because they ate too much of a certain substance called fat. Good thing we completely eliminated that from our diets two hundred years ago.” The mother and son proceeded to the middle of what they would soon realize was a prehistoric school.
            “Sit here, stupid,” Mrs. Shizzle affectionately directed her son, “Look right there!” She pointed with her left tentacle at a young creature wearing a sack on his rear side.
            “That’s a man!” cried Mrs. Shizzle, “Look, George! That one is probably about sixteen. As you know, I’ve done a lot of research on these strange creatures. Look at him, kicking that nice young girl.”
            “I think they are just playing,” commented George.
            “No, son. The human male was a violent creature as you can see here. They tend to turn things upside down, and they fight eachother, and they even enjoy picking on females. It’s horrible! That’s why we don’t have adult males in Hofenlofel, George.”
            George and his mother proceeded to ascend a strange set of levels that were each only as big as the end of their leg tentacles. The sequence made them go up higher! They were amazed at this strange structure. After referring to her history book, Mrs. Shizzle told George that she believed the structure was called a flight of airplanes.
            “A flight of airplanes? Don’t you mean a flight of stairs, Mother?” questioned George.
            “Why, yes! You must be paying close attention to your studies, stupid. I’m so proud of you!”
            There was a strange looking creature coming down the stairs, seemingly growling at a young male who was innocently kissing a young female. The old man was round and old, seemingly about sixty-five years of age. His white hair covered his whole head, and he glared in the Shizzles’ direction.
            “Run!” cried Mrs. Shizzle, “We’ve been caught!” 
            “Stop, by order of the headmaster!” called the fat man. The Shizzles just kept running.
            “Headmaster calling for backup,” cried the fat man into his communication device. Another man came hobbling along the path, holding the other device that the fat man was talking into. He had a horrible limp in his legs, and growled when he spoke.
            “There were some aliens here just a moment ago. We have to act quickly!” the Shizzles heard the fat man say to the man with the limp. George and his mom were watching the stupid old men from a safe distance by the grapes, or grass as they thought it must be called.
            The fat man, wearing a strange sort of clothing object Mrs. Shizzle reasoned must be some form of pants and a shirt, began to run in the opposite direction of where the Shizzles were hiding. His fat bounced around in his shirt, and George couldn’t help but to giggle. Unfortunately the attackers heard him.
            “Who goes there?” called the fat man, spinning all the way around to look right where the Shizzles had just been hiding. Losing his delicate balance, he then proceeded to fall to the ground, belly jiggling all over. His shirt became un-tucked in his clumsiness, and a hairy, fat stomach gurgled out all over the concrete. George closed his eyes in absolute disgust.
            “Quiet, stupid,” whispered Mrs. Shizzle to her son, “ He seems to be half deaf, so I think we’re alright, but let’s be cautious.”
            The limping man caught up to the fat one just as the fat was trickling out the fat man’s shirt. The limping man was also large and wore what Mrs. Shizzle referred to as athletic pants that he pulled up almost to his womanly chest.
            “Get up!” yelled the man with the large chest.
            “Those are commonly referred to as man boobs in this time period,” whispered Mrs. Shizzle, pointing to the man’s chest where fatty tissue jiggled as he attempted to run.
            After several minutes, both men managed to stand up and began to look around, searching for the “aliens” the fat one claimed he had seen just moments before. The Shizzles couldn’t believe what an entertaining show George was getting to see on his first trip back in time to the days of planet Earth. Just then a tall, thin woman with dark brown hair neatly pulled back ran up to the two stupid men.
            “Are you alright? You fell awfully hard, sir,” she said to the fat man who had fallen. She had to look up to greet him, as he was much taller than she was.
            “Yes, thank you,” replied the tall fat man, stumbling and turning red. The woman smiled gently and turned to walk away. She smiled at teenage children walking by her on their way to their studies, and the Shizzles could tell she was much friendlier than either of the two fat men. Then she entered a nearby building at the other end of the cement path where the two men stood, and disappeared into it.
            The Shizzles walked across the field of grapes, or was it grass? Mrs. Shizzle wasn’t too sure, but what she did know was that it was past time for dinner back home. She and George loaded up the shuttle and prepared to take off.
            “Wait a moment!” called George, thinking quickly, “I’d like to take home some of that man’s fat to show Palieta!”
            “You can’t take his fat home, sweetie,” said Mrs. Shizzle, “I would try to take some, but he might eat me. He looks like a hungry fat man. I’m a little concerned.” The shuttle took off back to Hofenlofel for dinner.
            “This is why we can’t trust human beings,” said Mrs. Shizzle with a sigh to herself, and she turned to look out the window at the two squirming fat men, now as small as ants on the ground miles below.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

When All My Clothes Were Play Clothes

Sitting under the shade structure supervising children on the playground, I think back to when I was that age...

I miss when all my clothes were play clothes, when school clothes and exercise clothes were one and the same. I miss being able to play on the playground at a moment's notice without worrying about whether my hair would stay out of my face, because it was already so short, or whether I had the right shoes on, because I wore athletic shoes every day. I miss the creativity to turn the play equipment into a ship and the thrill of a slide that even the frequent shock of static electricity at the bottom couldn't hamper.

But alas, now I'm an adult. No longer do I run, chase, and climb all throughout the day; now my main exercise comes from my four hour-long classes each week at the gym. Before working out, I change my clothes and shoes and tie my hair into a ponytail. My daytime clothes are different from my workout clothes; I wouldn't be able to go straight from school or work to the gym without changing. I don't play tag, hang upside down, or dig holes with my bare hands on a daily basis anymore.

I miss when all my clothes were play clothes.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Lunch Date with a Murderer

Joe has been in a feud with Nate for as long as he can remember. Their families have lived near each other for generations and have never gotten along. Worst of all, nobody is exactly sure how the whole conflict started in the first place. Joe grew up hearing stories of his grandparents' and even great-grandparents' struggles with Nate's family and has always been so bothered by the whole situation. Joe's friends and even acquaintances he barely knows are full of various suggestions; some say that Joe should meet up with Nate for lunch to talk and try to find middle ground while others have advised Joe to offer Nate one of his prized possessions, like maybe the old baseball cap from the 20's that is now worth a nice chunk of cash.

The major issue, though, is that while Joe wants this whole feud to end so he and his family can get on with their lives, Nate and his family want Joe's family dead. Because they are subtle about this wish, only a few of Joe's friends know the truth; most think that if Joe was just a little nicer to Nate and his family, the feud would end. But Joe knows that no amount of negotiating or gift giving will ever satisfy Nate. Nate has been taught from birth to hate Joe's family and he will not give up the feud until Joe is dead.

Replace Joe with the Israelis and Nate with the Palestinians and you have the true story of the conflict in the Middle East. How can any productive negotiations ever happen when Israel wants peace and the Palestinians want Israel and its inhabitants dead? No matter how much land Israel gives up, the Palestinians will not be satisfied. They don't want a two-state solution; they want a one-state Jew-free solution. While there are numerous Palestinian Arabs who wish to live peacefully amongst their Jewish neighbors, they are greatly overshadowed by the Jew-hating leadership of the Palestinian Authority.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

A Girl I Used To Know

As I was walking to work this afternoon with my music on shuffle, a song came on that reminded me of a girl I used to know: Message In A Bottle by The Police; she loved that song. She was an 8th grader and had that song on her pink iPod Mini. Worn out after being at school nearly eight hours, and sometimes up to ten, she'd listen to her music while lying on the cement and resting her head on her backpack until she saw her dad in the blue minivan or her mom in the old white Camry pull into the parking lot.

She was tall and thin, even lanky. Within inches of six feet, her height alone might suggest a full grown woman but her narrow frame would give her away as the young teen she was. She often wore printless cotton sweatshirts and jeans during the cold weather and Bermuda shorts with a t-shirt in the early fall and spring. She usually wore her short auburn hair down and clipped to the side but pulled it back into a half ponytail for basketball.

She was so proud to have made the JV basketball team as just an 8th grader, and looking back, I, too, am so proud of her. Her school spanned grades six through twelve and, while still part of the middle school, eighth graders had the opportunity to try out for high school sports teams. She had played basketball in grades three, four, and five, but her main sport had always been soccer. She had signed up to play basketball the previous year as a seventh grader but had changed her mind at the last minute. She only ended up at tryouts this year because her friend was going. She had her PE locker in the older east gym but practices were usually in the nicer west gym, so she would change into her practice uniform after school and then strut over to the other gym, basketball shoes still untied; she thought she was pretty spiffy.

She was sometimes intimidated by new things but also adventurous and quite competitive. At the beginning of the school year, her class took a multi-night trip to a camp a few hours away. While other students enjoyed activities around the property, she signed up to climb a mountain. On the morning of the trip, she woke up before dawn and hopped into a van with a handful of other students and some adults to get to the trailhead. The trail started innocently enough but by the end the group was climbing nearly straight up as they both walked and bouldered up the mountain. Many hours into this all-day trip, the sky grew dark and lightning started to strike. This girl  stayed tough, though, and kept up with the group as they continued to ascend despite the scary weather. They eventually came back down and huddled under a roof in the pouring rain to wait to be picked up.

On the same trip, the students spent some time with their advisories, groups of about ten students assigned to a lead teacher who would serve as the students' advocate and the families' main school contact for the year. Amongst a myriad of group games and trust exercises was blob tag, a version of tag in which each person who is tagged becomes part of the blob that must stay connected while chasing other players. I remember that game mostly because her advisor snapped a great photo during it which ended up in her school yearbook, and in the short color section, no less. I sure love that photo of her, captioned "running for her life". In it, she narrowly escapes the blob of at least three other kids. I think it serves as a bit of a metaphor for her; while she was often bullied and feared the unknown, she also made excellent grades, played on the JV basketball team while still a middle schooler, participated in student government, attended weekly religious school, and was a Cadette Girl Scout. In short, she never stopped running forward with her life.

I sure enjoyed knowing this girl back then. She was a fun kid, both goofy and studious, opinionated and shy. While I haven't seen this 8th grader in nearly a decade now, it made me happy to remember her today with a song she used to listen to.