Yesterday (New Year's Adam) we said good bye to 8 new friends who had come to this part of the world to teach English at a local school. They were amazing and accomplished so much in about 10 days. Prior to their departure we visited a park near where our kids live. It is an amazing park filled with beautiful trees and plants. The locals have added statues with character. The park is a work-in-progress in that they are adding to it continually, including transplanting huge trees. It truly is remarkable.
Here's the truly sad part. They've also constructed an extremely large Buddhist temple. We looked through the temple and saw all the monks and workers, along with the many people purchasing incense sticks and offering prayers to...uhhhhh, to...ummmm, prayers to "whoever might be there." They believe all roads lead to their concept of heaven. The truth is none of their roads lead to heaven. Judy and I commented to our friends to take a good look at the faces of the people offering incense and prayers to "the great unknown" because they'll not see those same faces in heaven UNLESS. That made us extremely sad. As we walked through the compound I kept repeating, "Jesus is Lord, Jesus is Lord" and so wanting that to become a reality for the folks there.
In town today we encountered several Buddhist monks wanting to give us a blessing and to receive one in return (I think they expected that their "received" blessings would be of a monetary type). I have to admit I didn't have much patience with them. Yes, they are deluded, part of the spiritual darkness so prevalent here and darkness operates like darkness. But knowing how they are deluding so many made me want to do anything but give them a blessing. However I've decided to pray for them by the names I "affectionately" gave them: Moe, Larry and Curly. I really think God will know who they are as I lift their names from time-to-time.
As I write there's only 98 minutes left in this year and decade. "Good bye ought oh and hello decade of the teens." Happy New Year, readers.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Plumbing issues
The Chinese deserve credit for so many things they do well. They are masters of cooking I can't begin to describe how tasty they can make corn, green beans, egg plant, broccoli and cabbage--I could be a vegetarian here. They are also wizards at making water buffalo taste good--tonight we had a pepper beef dish that is to die for. We also had a fish dish that tops any fish I've had in USAmerica. (They fillet the fish then make fish rolls that include cilantro, garlic and an herb to be named later, then place the rolls in a row and return the head and tail before cooking and presenting the dish. Wish I'd had a camera to capture Judy's expression when the fish was served, staring at her.)
They are amazing gardeners. Find a small plot of land and they'll grow something. Or, construct a building with a flat roof and they'll add dirt and turn it into a roof garden.
Horticulture? They can't be beat. You'll find parks here that make anything we've got in USAmerica look bland. (They transplant anything with success, even mature trees. Fascinating!)
But plumbing? NO WAY!!! For some reason they've not got this down very well. (Who am I kidding, they suck at plumbing.) What's supposed to hold water leaks and what's supposed to let water drain doesn't. During our recent village visit we stayed in a very nice hotel (except for the cardboard covered concrete slab bed). It even had a Western potty. Sweet. Our bathroom came with a shower in-a-tub and a counter around the sink--a perk for China. We had plenty of hot water for showers--a luxury. So where's the problem? Glad you asked.
Judy showered first while I scraped my face with cold steel. Then it was my turn. There was a dispenser for hair & body wash--not my idea of an ideal situation. I mean, how does the soap know if you're applying it to hair or body? Surely there's some difference between the texture of hair and skin and the hygiene needs of each. Oh well, it made lather. Things were going well--I even checked to make sure the shear shower curtain was directing the water into the tub and not onto the bathroom floor, and the wisp of a curtain was doing it's job. Who wants a wet bathroom floor.(So far, so good.) I finished after a reasonable time (reasonable means I used enough hair & body wash along with the water to get my hair and body washed. Being a "full bodied" guy, it takes some time to get all the din off my skin (I don't know what that means either, but I wanted to rhyme something). Turn off the water, open the curtain and grab a towel. OH NO, THERE'S WATER ON THE FLOOR! How did it get there since I was being so careful with the curtain? IT WAS COMING OUT OF THE FLOOR DRAIN! That's right, the water was draining out of the tub, down the drain, and up onto the floor. HOW CRAZY IS THAT? Couldn't stop the flood. I threw down towels in a futile attempt to dam up the water. The only thing I succeeded in doing was getting all our towels sopping wet. It suddenly dawned on me--I can't swim! The water continued to rise--the rats were bailing out of the ship, the furniture was floating, the musicians began playing "Nearer My God to Thee" (oh wait, that was on the Titanic). The tide stopped rising just before it got to the three foot line on our door, which was fortunate because the door stoop was at three feet and 1/2 inch (and it explained why we had such a big step to get into the bathroom).
We reported the problem, fully expecting the Asian Roto Rooter to arrive and correct the problem before our next bathing adventure. WRONG! The next morning the water began to rise. But I had a flash of insight--PUT THE PLUG IN THE TUB--KEEP THE WATER IN THE TUB AND NOT ON THE FLOOR. But remember, the things that are supposed to hold water don't. However, in this case, the bathtub plug slowed the water enough so it didn't totally flood the floor. I OUT SMARTED A STUPID DRAIN. I'm proud of that.
The next time you find yourself in a Chinese shower and the water begins to rise, plug the drain. (Just a helpful hint from this old fat white guy who sometimes travels the world.)
They are amazing gardeners. Find a small plot of land and they'll grow something. Or, construct a building with a flat roof and they'll add dirt and turn it into a roof garden.
Horticulture? They can't be beat. You'll find parks here that make anything we've got in USAmerica look bland. (They transplant anything with success, even mature trees. Fascinating!)
But plumbing? NO WAY!!! For some reason they've not got this down very well. (Who am I kidding, they suck at plumbing.) What's supposed to hold water leaks and what's supposed to let water drain doesn't. During our recent village visit we stayed in a very nice hotel (except for the cardboard covered concrete slab bed). It even had a Western potty. Sweet. Our bathroom came with a shower in-a-tub and a counter around the sink--a perk for China. We had plenty of hot water for showers--a luxury. So where's the problem? Glad you asked.
Judy showered first while I scraped my face with cold steel. Then it was my turn. There was a dispenser for hair & body wash--not my idea of an ideal situation. I mean, how does the soap know if you're applying it to hair or body? Surely there's some difference between the texture of hair and skin and the hygiene needs of each. Oh well, it made lather. Things were going well--I even checked to make sure the shear shower curtain was directing the water into the tub and not onto the bathroom floor, and the wisp of a curtain was doing it's job. Who wants a wet bathroom floor.(So far, so good.) I finished after a reasonable time (reasonable means I used enough hair & body wash along with the water to get my hair and body washed. Being a "full bodied" guy, it takes some time to get all the din off my skin (I don't know what that means either, but I wanted to rhyme something). Turn off the water, open the curtain and grab a towel. OH NO, THERE'S WATER ON THE FLOOR! How did it get there since I was being so careful with the curtain? IT WAS COMING OUT OF THE FLOOR DRAIN! That's right, the water was draining out of the tub, down the drain, and up onto the floor. HOW CRAZY IS THAT? Couldn't stop the flood. I threw down towels in a futile attempt to dam up the water. The only thing I succeeded in doing was getting all our towels sopping wet. It suddenly dawned on me--I can't swim! The water continued to rise--the rats were bailing out of the ship, the furniture was floating, the musicians began playing "Nearer My God to Thee" (oh wait, that was on the Titanic). The tide stopped rising just before it got to the three foot line on our door, which was fortunate because the door stoop was at three feet and 1/2 inch (and it explained why we had such a big step to get into the bathroom).
We reported the problem, fully expecting the Asian Roto Rooter to arrive and correct the problem before our next bathing adventure. WRONG! The next morning the water began to rise. But I had a flash of insight--PUT THE PLUG IN THE TUB--KEEP THE WATER IN THE TUB AND NOT ON THE FLOOR. But remember, the things that are supposed to hold water don't. However, in this case, the bathtub plug slowed the water enough so it didn't totally flood the floor. I OUT SMARTED A STUPID DRAIN. I'm proud of that.
The next time you find yourself in a Chinese shower and the water begins to rise, plug the drain. (Just a helpful hint from this old fat white guy who sometimes travels the world.)
Monday, December 28, 2009
Coffee tragedy
If you've been reading this blog very long, or know my wonderful wife very well, then you know she is a coffee aficionado. (Who am I kidding, she's a downright coffee snob and an addict.) Judy really, really, really, really...likes her coffee in the morning--or any other time of the day, for that matter. (She's not coffee-time prejudiced.) She also enjoys quality coffee (thus the "coffee snob" comment). Her coffee m.o. is to grind the beans just before adding said grounds to the pot and producing her special brew. To grind the beans earlier is to loose some the flavor. In a pinch, she will use ground coffee, but it's just not the same.
Judy has been rubbing off on our precious Brigitte. Brig is no where near the coffee snob status of her mom, but she's working on it. Living is China has created a challenge for Brigitte and her ever-expanding coffee-loving taste buds because the Chinese are BIG on tea. Never-the-less, she has discovered where to find java beans and she also has her own grinder. Kevin gave her a one-cup portable coffee maker for the trips they make to the countryside. Judy was thrilled to see this because we were planning to make a trip to the country the day after Christmas--which we did. (This is all set-up to the story of the tragedy.)
We traveled to the country village (the village only has a population of 60,000, a trivial sized populace in a country with the population of 1.3 billion) with said coffee maker stowed securely in our luggage. Judy packed the coffee. Since it was only a two-day trip, Judy was settling for ground coffee and the grinder was left at home. (Bear with me, dear reader, the plot will thicken immediately.)
Sunday morning I awakened to--not a blood-curdling scream--a pathetic "Oh no." Being the doting husband that I am, I rolled over on my board--err, bed (don't get me started on the Chinese concept of a bed: a concrete slab with a layer of cardboard for the mattress; see, I warned you about getting me started), pulled the cover over my eyes and attempted to return to my cardboard covered concrete back-cracking cyatic arousing coma. The next thing I remember is hearing a whap, whap, whap, whap sound. Thinking that the construction workers next door had inflitrated our room, I sprang to my feet (as quickly as a cardboard covered concrete back-cracking cyatic arousing comatose old fat guy can spring--you get the picture)to block the door. There were no construction workers in our room. Here's what I discovered.
In our busyness of getting ready to catch the 11:45 bus to said village, Judy had grabbed a box of Gevilia coffee, not noticing that it was whole beans, not ground coffee. (I'm almost of the opinion that she just can't bring herself to handle ground coffee and it was a Freudian thing she did.) Since we hadn't carried the grinder with us, we had a problem: a coffee addict with a coffee maker but whole beans with no grinder. (Picture the scene from Apollo 13 and Tom Hanks announcing, "Houston, we have a problem" and you get the sense of what was happening in our room.) So Judy, in her coffee-deprived but not to be coffee-denied state, took an empty M & M's bag, placed the whole beans inside the bag, then began beating the bean-bag with a drinking glass. She was determined to somehow grind her beans to make her coffee. I attempted to help her. It was a pathetic attempt to provide relief to her craving for scalding hot liquid caffine.
NOTE TO READERS: Coffee beans beaten in an M & M bag by a drinking glass will not be smashed to a consistency equal to that of beans ground in an actual grinder.
Needless to report, the smashed-not-ground beans made a liquid beverage that was nothing like coffee. It was a sad, sad, sad day in the China village. In recognition of our tragedy, the hotel lowered the Chinese flag to half staff. We found instant (can you imagine) Vietnamese coffee in a store next to the hotel. The beverage it produced caused Judy to burn the half-staff posted flag.
Here's the lesson for all to learn. When traveling with only a one-cup brewer and no grinder to a city or village near you (which doen't sell whole beans), make sure the coffee you pack is ground. Life will be better for all.
Judy has been rubbing off on our precious Brigitte. Brig is no where near the coffee snob status of her mom, but she's working on it. Living is China has created a challenge for Brigitte and her ever-expanding coffee-loving taste buds because the Chinese are BIG on tea. Never-the-less, she has discovered where to find java beans and she also has her own grinder. Kevin gave her a one-cup portable coffee maker for the trips they make to the countryside. Judy was thrilled to see this because we were planning to make a trip to the country the day after Christmas--which we did. (This is all set-up to the story of the tragedy.)
We traveled to the country village (the village only has a population of 60,000, a trivial sized populace in a country with the population of 1.3 billion) with said coffee maker stowed securely in our luggage. Judy packed the coffee. Since it was only a two-day trip, Judy was settling for ground coffee and the grinder was left at home. (Bear with me, dear reader, the plot will thicken immediately.)
Sunday morning I awakened to--not a blood-curdling scream--a pathetic "Oh no." Being the doting husband that I am, I rolled over on my board--err, bed (don't get me started on the Chinese concept of a bed: a concrete slab with a layer of cardboard for the mattress; see, I warned you about getting me started), pulled the cover over my eyes and attempted to return to my cardboard covered concrete back-cracking cyatic arousing coma. The next thing I remember is hearing a whap, whap, whap, whap sound. Thinking that the construction workers next door had inflitrated our room, I sprang to my feet (as quickly as a cardboard covered concrete back-cracking cyatic arousing comatose old fat guy can spring--you get the picture)to block the door. There were no construction workers in our room. Here's what I discovered.
In our busyness of getting ready to catch the 11:45 bus to said village, Judy had grabbed a box of Gevilia coffee, not noticing that it was whole beans, not ground coffee. (I'm almost of the opinion that she just can't bring herself to handle ground coffee and it was a Freudian thing she did.) Since we hadn't carried the grinder with us, we had a problem: a coffee addict with a coffee maker but whole beans with no grinder. (Picture the scene from Apollo 13 and Tom Hanks announcing, "Houston, we have a problem" and you get the sense of what was happening in our room.) So Judy, in her coffee-deprived but not to be coffee-denied state, took an empty M & M's bag, placed the whole beans inside the bag, then began beating the bean-bag with a drinking glass. She was determined to somehow grind her beans to make her coffee. I attempted to help her. It was a pathetic attempt to provide relief to her craving for scalding hot liquid caffine.
NOTE TO READERS: Coffee beans beaten in an M & M bag by a drinking glass will not be smashed to a consistency equal to that of beans ground in an actual grinder.
Needless to report, the smashed-not-ground beans made a liquid beverage that was nothing like coffee. It was a sad, sad, sad day in the China village. In recognition of our tragedy, the hotel lowered the Chinese flag to half staff. We found instant (can you imagine) Vietnamese coffee in a store next to the hotel. The beverage it produced caused Judy to burn the half-staff posted flag.
Here's the lesson for all to learn. When traveling with only a one-cup brewer and no grinder to a city or village near you (which doen't sell whole beans), make sure the coffee you pack is ground. Life will be better for all.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Merry Christmas
Christmas in China is like living a mixed metaphor. Almost everywhere we have gone we've heard Christmas music: some authentic Western music and some with a Chinese twang. Grace, our vivacious 3 year old granddaughter, has watched several Christmas videos in anticipation of the actual day. Every video has shown snow falling on Christmas. Grace has been led to believe snow and Christmas are synonymous. She has eagerly declared that it would snow Christmas and that's how we would know it was Christmas. South China has been experiencing a progressive warming this week and Christmas morning dawned very warm and extremely humid. She's not believed us when we've told her it was Christmas--how can it be Christmas without snow? Meanwhile, "back at the ranch," it has been snowing. Lubbock made national news because of the weather and our Oklahoma kids have experienced a blizzard--complete with 14 inches of snow. I think Grace feels cheated.
Yesterday we had a Christmas Eve meal with our kids and 4 Okies gone East. Brigitte had so wanted to be able to serve turkey and ham. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find ham in China? Ham is as scarce here as Tiger Wood's vow of monogamy. And turkey? Not really an option. So my innovative daughter went on line and found a recipe for chicken and bacon. While not technically turkey and ham, it was pork and poultry. Regardless, it was amazingly good--we're bringing the recipe home to repeat in Lubbock.
Brigitte also wanted sweet potatoes. We couldn't find any at Wah-a-mah (Walmart) or the other markets but, guess what? Street vendors sell them already cooked. It seems the Chinese like to eat cooked sweet potatoes by themselves. We made a vendor's day when we purchased 8 sweet spuds at once. Brigitte took these cooked veggies, added special ingredients and--wha laa--excellent sweet potato casserole.
One of the many challenges for a Westerner living in Asia is being able to replicate the tastes of home. Not everything we USAmericans like matches the palette of the Chinese. But Brigitte is extremely innovative and, along with the other "company women" share ideas and discoveries. The foreigners are a close-knit community and help one another. Their camaraderie should serve as a model for all friendships.
We've absolutely loved being around our two granddaughters at Christmas. Seeing Christmas through the eyes of a three-year-old is refreshing. And having a baby to giggle and coo reminds one of the true meaning of Christmas. A baby makes all the difference.
So to all you USAmericans at home experiencing a white Christmas, feasting on butterball turkey and honey glazed ham, try hard to enjoy your day. You're definitely missing something that can only be found in China. (And as soon as I figure out what it is you're missing, I'll let you know.)
Tomorrow we leave for the country to meet up with 8 students from Ohio who pulled a "Christmas in China Cultural Exchange." They've been teaching English in a village school. Tomorrow we go to spend a few days with them. We'll not have access to the Internet, so this is my last posting for a few days. Weep not, faithful blog followers, I shall return with a renewed vengeance for hitting the net with tales from the dark side. (WHAT!! TALES FROM THE DARK SIDE!!! GET A GRIP GERLT!) I mean, I'll return with stories from the country. And since I grew up in the country, I'll have a frame of reference for story telling. (WHATEVER.)
Good night and Merry Christmas from the magical land of China.
Yesterday we had a Christmas Eve meal with our kids and 4 Okies gone East. Brigitte had so wanted to be able to serve turkey and ham. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find ham in China? Ham is as scarce here as Tiger Wood's vow of monogamy. And turkey? Not really an option. So my innovative daughter went on line and found a recipe for chicken and bacon. While not technically turkey and ham, it was pork and poultry. Regardless, it was amazingly good--we're bringing the recipe home to repeat in Lubbock.
Brigitte also wanted sweet potatoes. We couldn't find any at Wah-a-mah (Walmart) or the other markets but, guess what? Street vendors sell them already cooked. It seems the Chinese like to eat cooked sweet potatoes by themselves. We made a vendor's day when we purchased 8 sweet spuds at once. Brigitte took these cooked veggies, added special ingredients and--wha laa--excellent sweet potato casserole.
One of the many challenges for a Westerner living in Asia is being able to replicate the tastes of home. Not everything we USAmericans like matches the palette of the Chinese. But Brigitte is extremely innovative and, along with the other "company women" share ideas and discoveries. The foreigners are a close-knit community and help one another. Their camaraderie should serve as a model for all friendships.
We've absolutely loved being around our two granddaughters at Christmas. Seeing Christmas through the eyes of a three-year-old is refreshing. And having a baby to giggle and coo reminds one of the true meaning of Christmas. A baby makes all the difference.
So to all you USAmericans at home experiencing a white Christmas, feasting on butterball turkey and honey glazed ham, try hard to enjoy your day. You're definitely missing something that can only be found in China. (And as soon as I figure out what it is you're missing, I'll let you know.)
Tomorrow we leave for the country to meet up with 8 students from Ohio who pulled a "Christmas in China Cultural Exchange." They've been teaching English in a village school. Tomorrow we go to spend a few days with them. We'll not have access to the Internet, so this is my last posting for a few days. Weep not, faithful blog followers, I shall return with a renewed vengeance for hitting the net with tales from the dark side. (WHAT!! TALES FROM THE DARK SIDE!!! GET A GRIP GERLT!) I mean, I'll return with stories from the country. And since I grew up in the country, I'll have a frame of reference for story telling. (WHATEVER.)
Good night and Merry Christmas from the magical land of China.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town, Christmas carols were playing, but no one knew what they meant.
Today Kevin, Grace and I went out to allow the "women folk" to prepare for our Christmas Eve meal with friends of the kids. We went to a beautiful park close to their house. Grace was given her choice of 5 rides in the kiddie park. She chose wisely. One of the rides played "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desire" then switched to "Away in a Manger." AMAZING! Her favorite "ride" was the bungee/trampoline jump. She was placed into a harness attached to bungee cords. The cords were attached to poles that extended out at an angle from the trampoline. She could jump and go very high. I've watched adults do the adult version of the "ride" in malls in USAmerica, and they can really bounce high. Truthfully, I didn't think Grace would enjoy this ride. WRONG! She loved it. Normally the ride lasts 3 minutes, but because the park wasn't very busy and because she was so cute and performing so well and attracting a crowd, she was allowed to go until she was tired--22 minutes worth. She had a ball. Chinese women would hand their cameras to friends, run up to the trampoline to have their pictures taken with this little white girl who was bouncing sky high. (Chinese women are fascinated by white children and continually want to have their pictures taken with her. Go figure.)
We went to McDonald's (pronounced My Dung Low with the Low pronounced like "wow" but with the "l" instead) for lunch. They followed the Chinese tradition of setting up a Christmas tree, but to call it a Christmas tree is to stretch the point. I'm thinking all of China has seen the cartoon "Charlie Browns' Christmas Tree" and have come to believe that's the norm. Almost all Christmas trees here are pathetic. The "trees" are tiny and the few ornaments look like they were thrown on by drunken monkeys. But, hey, give them credit--they're accommodating to a holiday they don't understand.
Here's the sad part of this blog. The music at Mickie Dees was pure Christmas carols. I was taken back as I heard--in English while eating a McDonald's #2 (hamburger with a special spicy sauce and cucumbers, fries and a Coke Zero) these lyrics: "...O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord." Some Chinese, recognizing our very Western faces, would make it a point to wish us "Merry Christmas." They have no clue as to the true meaning of Christmas. Oh that the day comes when they DO understand what Christmas is all about.
Here's my concern for USAmerica--that we NOT lose the true meaning of Christmas. We're never more than one generation away from losing the message of Christmas. We cannot allow the secular traditions of Christmas to overcome the true Christmas.
We've heard rumors of there being snow in the mid-west back home--even heard Dallas might actually have a white Christmas. Here in our China town the temperature has risen to spring-like conditions. I went out in my Texas Tech wind suit and broke a sweat before reaching the 50 foot mark. Off came the jacket but out continued the sweet. They're telling us it will be in the upper 70's tomorrow. We definitely will NOT have a white Christmas tomorrow UNLESS the pollen from the trees in bloom blows in.
Oh, I blew past the McDonald's hamburger earlier. I got to tell you, it was very good. In fact, much better than the quarter pounders I usually order at our USAmerica McDonald's. Go figure--a burger with a sauce the color of French salad dressing but with a kick, accompanied by cucumbers--tasting great? Who would have guessed? But who am I kidding--I have limited credibility when it comes to food--I even eat grasshoppers.
Merry Christmas blog dwellers.
Today Kevin, Grace and I went out to allow the "women folk" to prepare for our Christmas Eve meal with friends of the kids. We went to a beautiful park close to their house. Grace was given her choice of 5 rides in the kiddie park. She chose wisely. One of the rides played "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desire" then switched to "Away in a Manger." AMAZING! Her favorite "ride" was the bungee/trampoline jump. She was placed into a harness attached to bungee cords. The cords were attached to poles that extended out at an angle from the trampoline. She could jump and go very high. I've watched adults do the adult version of the "ride" in malls in USAmerica, and they can really bounce high. Truthfully, I didn't think Grace would enjoy this ride. WRONG! She loved it. Normally the ride lasts 3 minutes, but because the park wasn't very busy and because she was so cute and performing so well and attracting a crowd, she was allowed to go until she was tired--22 minutes worth. She had a ball. Chinese women would hand their cameras to friends, run up to the trampoline to have their pictures taken with this little white girl who was bouncing sky high. (Chinese women are fascinated by white children and continually want to have their pictures taken with her. Go figure.)
We went to McDonald's (pronounced My Dung Low with the Low pronounced like "wow" but with the "l" instead) for lunch. They followed the Chinese tradition of setting up a Christmas tree, but to call it a Christmas tree is to stretch the point. I'm thinking all of China has seen the cartoon "Charlie Browns' Christmas Tree" and have come to believe that's the norm. Almost all Christmas trees here are pathetic. The "trees" are tiny and the few ornaments look like they were thrown on by drunken monkeys. But, hey, give them credit--they're accommodating to a holiday they don't understand.
Here's the sad part of this blog. The music at Mickie Dees was pure Christmas carols. I was taken back as I heard--in English while eating a McDonald's #2 (hamburger with a special spicy sauce and cucumbers, fries and a Coke Zero) these lyrics: "...O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord." Some Chinese, recognizing our very Western faces, would make it a point to wish us "Merry Christmas." They have no clue as to the true meaning of Christmas. Oh that the day comes when they DO understand what Christmas is all about.
Here's my concern for USAmerica--that we NOT lose the true meaning of Christmas. We're never more than one generation away from losing the message of Christmas. We cannot allow the secular traditions of Christmas to overcome the true Christmas.
We've heard rumors of there being snow in the mid-west back home--even heard Dallas might actually have a white Christmas. Here in our China town the temperature has risen to spring-like conditions. I went out in my Texas Tech wind suit and broke a sweat before reaching the 50 foot mark. Off came the jacket but out continued the sweet. They're telling us it will be in the upper 70's tomorrow. We definitely will NOT have a white Christmas tomorrow UNLESS the pollen from the trees in bloom blows in.
Oh, I blew past the McDonald's hamburger earlier. I got to tell you, it was very good. In fact, much better than the quarter pounders I usually order at our USAmerica McDonald's. Go figure--a burger with a sauce the color of French salad dressing but with a kick, accompanied by cucumbers--tasting great? Who would have guessed? But who am I kidding--I have limited credibility when it comes to food--I even eat grasshoppers.
Merry Christmas blog dwellers.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Jet Lag-a-due
We're experiencing a rare phenomenon these days--it's called "jet lag-a-due." The "jet lag" is a common occurrence among international travelers. The "lag-a-due" is residual jet lag, thus "lag-a-due." Judy and I got here 4 days ago, suffering from jet lag. We have worked diligently to adjust our body clocks and thought we were getting acclimated to this 14 hour time change. All of a sudden, we're experiencing the effects of the lag-a-due. Sufferers of this rare disease appear to be functioning normally, then suddenly a nap overtakes the stricken one and he/she has no choice but to drop off to sleep for a few minutes. It's kind of annoying and is the source of entertainment for those inoculated to lag-a-due. Today I was hit with the "due" while enjoying lunch and fell asleep with my face in my plate. Not cool. Tonight Kevin and I were shopping at the local Wal-Mart (pronounced Wah Ah Mah by the locals) when it hit me. So, right in the middle of the fish tanks, down I went.
Okay, I exaggerate about the face in the plate and asleep between the tanks, but the lag-a-due is real.
This afternoon Kevin and I went for massages. We each got an hour massage and the combined bill was less than $10.00 FOR BOTH. What a deal--what a country!
For lunch today we made the cross-town trek to the Fragrant Mountain Restaurant. The head chef, a friend of K & B, is named Aqui. She could win any cooking show in the USA. We feasted on friend corn (Grace's favorite), stir-fried green beans, egg plant, sweet & sour chicken, and a broccoli dish that takes your breath away.What she does to these basic vegetables is nothing short of amazing. We feasted and feasted. What a country!
For the record, I cheated death three times today. (Interpretation: we crossed the street 3 times--truly a death-defying fete.)
Today is Christmas Adam. (If the day before Christmas is Christmas Eve, then two days before Christmas is Christmas Adam.) The women folk are busy cooking and getting ready for Christmas day. The two little girls who rule the roost around here are down for the count and I feel another nap coming on. Think I'll just give in and go to bed for the night. ENJOY YOUR CHRISTMAS ADAM--we did ours. (There is one advantage to being 14 hours ahead of our home city in the good ole USA--you get to experience the day ahead of everyone else. What a country!)
Okay, I exaggerate about the face in the plate and asleep between the tanks, but the lag-a-due is real.
This afternoon Kevin and I went for massages. We each got an hour massage and the combined bill was less than $10.00 FOR BOTH. What a deal--what a country!
For lunch today we made the cross-town trek to the Fragrant Mountain Restaurant. The head chef, a friend of K & B, is named Aqui. She could win any cooking show in the USA. We feasted on friend corn (Grace's favorite), stir-fried green beans, egg plant, sweet & sour chicken, and a broccoli dish that takes your breath away.What she does to these basic vegetables is nothing short of amazing. We feasted and feasted. What a country!
For the record, I cheated death three times today. (Interpretation: we crossed the street 3 times--truly a death-defying fete.)
Today is Christmas Adam. (If the day before Christmas is Christmas Eve, then two days before Christmas is Christmas Adam.) The women folk are busy cooking and getting ready for Christmas day. The two little girls who rule the roost around here are down for the count and I feel another nap coming on. Think I'll just give in and go to bed for the night. ENJOY YOUR CHRISTMAS ADAM--we did ours. (There is one advantage to being 14 hours ahead of our home city in the good ole USA--you get to experience the day ahead of everyone else. What a country!)
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Chinese Cabs
We've passed the 72 hour mark on our sojourn in this Eastern City and have had the pleasure (?) of having ridden with at least 10 different taxi drivers. Chinese taxi drivers are the greatest evangelists in the world--they scare the hell out of you. Seriously, if one wasn't a god-fearing individual prior to entry into the cab, he would be by the time he departs. (Speaking of departing--a Chinese taxi just might be the place from which I depart this world.)
Today I called a taxi company to inquire how one becomes a driver. It did not come as a surprise to me that they contact the local suicide hot line for prospects. Unless a driver is a bit suicidal, he/she doesn't have a chance of getting hired. The more depressed and hopeless they are, the better their chance of employment. (Would you believe the average life expectancy of a Chinese cab driver is only 35 seconds? You wouldn't? Okay, its actually 43 seconds.)
To hail a cab here one steps dangerously close to the street, somehow managing to keep both feet on the sidewalk while levitating at a 45 degree angle. Face the oncoming traffic and elevate the right arm, extending the arm at the same angle as the body, palm down, fingers fixed together, then wave said fingers, keeping the thumb attached to the palm. This won't actually get you a cab but they will give you style points which can be redeemed for valuable prizes should you survive your ride. Once a cab recognizes you and pulls toward you (bear in mind, it doesn't matter which direction the cab was traveling, if they decide to provide you a ride, they'll make a "Ueee" regardless of what's coming--remember the suicide hot line connection from earlier? Apply here!), make sure you "claim" the cab. Chinese little ladies can come from no where and jump into the taxi while you're detaching your formerly firmly-planted-feet from the curb.
Upon entering your newly acquired taxi, check the picture on the license with the actual driver. If they don't match, know the driver pictured on the license has: 1) taken the day off (not likely); 2) come down with the swine flu and allowed his semi-comatose cousin to fill in; 3) had a face lift; 4) entered the witness protection program; 5) actually committed suicide. At this point you have the choice of continuing with the ride (recommended) or bailing from a moving vehicle (not recommended).
It's highly recommended that you spend the remainder of your ride with "every head bowed and every eye closed." Pray as if your life depends on it--BECAUSE IT DOES! (I'm writing this while riding in a taxi--I've got to pray. If I survive the ride, I'll blog more later.)
Today I called a taxi company to inquire how one becomes a driver. It did not come as a surprise to me that they contact the local suicide hot line for prospects. Unless a driver is a bit suicidal, he/she doesn't have a chance of getting hired. The more depressed and hopeless they are, the better their chance of employment. (Would you believe the average life expectancy of a Chinese cab driver is only 35 seconds? You wouldn't? Okay, its actually 43 seconds.)
To hail a cab here one steps dangerously close to the street, somehow managing to keep both feet on the sidewalk while levitating at a 45 degree angle. Face the oncoming traffic and elevate the right arm, extending the arm at the same angle as the body, palm down, fingers fixed together, then wave said fingers, keeping the thumb attached to the palm. This won't actually get you a cab but they will give you style points which can be redeemed for valuable prizes should you survive your ride. Once a cab recognizes you and pulls toward you (bear in mind, it doesn't matter which direction the cab was traveling, if they decide to provide you a ride, they'll make a "Ueee" regardless of what's coming--remember the suicide hot line connection from earlier? Apply here!), make sure you "claim" the cab. Chinese little ladies can come from no where and jump into the taxi while you're detaching your formerly firmly-planted-feet from the curb.
Upon entering your newly acquired taxi, check the picture on the license with the actual driver. If they don't match, know the driver pictured on the license has: 1) taken the day off (not likely); 2) come down with the swine flu and allowed his semi-comatose cousin to fill in; 3) had a face lift; 4) entered the witness protection program; 5) actually committed suicide. At this point you have the choice of continuing with the ride (recommended) or bailing from a moving vehicle (not recommended).
It's highly recommended that you spend the remainder of your ride with "every head bowed and every eye closed." Pray as if your life depends on it--BECAUSE IT DOES! (I'm writing this while riding in a taxi--I've got to pray. If I survive the ride, I'll blog more later.)
Monday, December 21, 2009
Cuisine Comments
We've been in China over 48 hours and have had ample opportunities to enjoy the delicies served by the Chinese restaurants. (For those of you who think P.F. Chang or Pei Wei is authentic Chinese, well, have I got a surprise for you!) We've had our taste buds standing and saluting the chefs. Sunday we were thrilled with a fried green bean dish that was unbelievably good. Super seasonings and baby shrimp were stir fried with the beans and they were just plain "slap your mama" good. We've enjoyed water buffalo served in a couple of different ways, both very tasty. (Water buffalo really does taste good, but it's not always tender. The tenderness is in direct proportion to the age--my opinion. The water buffalo we've had has been beyond adolescence but not quite to the geriatric stage.) The Chinese also do miraculous things with chicken, often combining the chicken with peanuts or cashews or ?????
Today we had water buffalo with stir friend cucumbers and another vegetable to be named later. (Honestly, I don't know what to name it. If it's green and growing, the Chinese find a way to cook and eat it. But then, that describes just about everything that grows here. If it's alive and they can catch it, they'll find a way to cook and eat it.) Some time ago I heard the American packing houses (that's a fancy term for slaughter houses) described as using everything in a pig except the squeal. I swear the Chinese have probably found a way to also use the squeal. Of course, when you're on the hook to feed 1.3 billion people, you have to be creative and inventive or adaptive--whatever the case might be.
Which brings me to the intent of my evening's ramblings. Tonight Brigitte was feeding Trinity some baby food she purchased locally. Brigitte's a great cook and provides healthy and nutritous meals for her family. Trinity's at that age when she is beginning to eat food off the table but still needs some baby food. Guess what Brigitte was feeding Trinity? Go ahead, take a guess.
Nope, that wasn't it. Try again.
Missed it again. Since you're giving up, I'll let you in on the contents of her baby food jar. Get ready--it was brocelli with chicken BONE paste. That's right, chicken bone. (Told you they use everything here.) Trinity was scarfing it down. Brigitte explained that it is a great source of protein and since it has been ground into a paste, Trinity can consume and digest the food.
Based upon my previous experience in Chinese dining, my goal for this trip is to avoid eating fish heads and chicken feet--both delacicies for the Chinese palate. Call me narrow minded, call me finickie, call me squeemish, just call me for dinner where the buffalo roam and the cucumbers are grilled. I'll be quite fine with that.
In the interest of full disclosure, the bread machine just went off and I'm luxurating in the smell of freshly baked bread. I'll have a piece of fresh, hot bread and soak it in organic honey. How's that for having it rough?
Today we had water buffalo with stir friend cucumbers and another vegetable to be named later. (Honestly, I don't know what to name it. If it's green and growing, the Chinese find a way to cook and eat it. But then, that describes just about everything that grows here. If it's alive and they can catch it, they'll find a way to cook and eat it.) Some time ago I heard the American packing houses (that's a fancy term for slaughter houses) described as using everything in a pig except the squeal. I swear the Chinese have probably found a way to also use the squeal. Of course, when you're on the hook to feed 1.3 billion people, you have to be creative and inventive or adaptive--whatever the case might be.
Which brings me to the intent of my evening's ramblings. Tonight Brigitte was feeding Trinity some baby food she purchased locally. Brigitte's a great cook and provides healthy and nutritous meals for her family. Trinity's at that age when she is beginning to eat food off the table but still needs some baby food. Guess what Brigitte was feeding Trinity? Go ahead, take a guess.
Nope, that wasn't it. Try again.
Missed it again. Since you're giving up, I'll let you in on the contents of her baby food jar. Get ready--it was brocelli with chicken BONE paste. That's right, chicken bone. (Told you they use everything here.) Trinity was scarfing it down. Brigitte explained that it is a great source of protein and since it has been ground into a paste, Trinity can consume and digest the food.
Based upon my previous experience in Chinese dining, my goal for this trip is to avoid eating fish heads and chicken feet--both delacicies for the Chinese palate. Call me narrow minded, call me finickie, call me squeemish, just call me for dinner where the buffalo roam and the cucumbers are grilled. I'll be quite fine with that.
In the interest of full disclosure, the bread machine just went off and I'm luxurating in the smell of freshly baked bread. I'll have a piece of fresh, hot bread and soak it in organic honey. How's that for having it rough?
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Christmas in China
China is a fascinating study in contrasts. While the current government has been in power for 60 years, the prevailing culture is about 5,000 years old. For centuries China was a closed country (witnessed by the Great Wall of China). Today it is an emerging nation and rapidly becoming the leading economy in the world. Buildings are being erected at the speed of greased lightening. The architecture of the new buildings is contemporary and often imaginative. It's apparent that China wants to present itself as new and "hip." In many ways it is borrowing concepts from the West, especially the USA.
Which brings me to my latest installment in blogger space. Today we went out for lunch. (We've actually been in our city for over 24 hours, but the first 15 don't count because we were in the jet lag induced trance. Think Indiana Jones in the second movie when he was forced to drink that concoction that placed him in a trance and you get an idea of our jet lag induced trance, although I don't think I tried to remove any one's heart--but I digress. I mention this because today I actually began to notice things.) Today we went out for lunch. We went to Grace's favorite restaurant and the food was fabulous. But here's the funny part. The servers at the restaurant all wore hats that kind of resembled Elf hats. They were a shade of red with white trim, but the red had some kind of funky design. They are adapted from the West with an Eastern flair. I guffawed (don't know what that means but think it sounds clever here) at the hat the guy wore who brought the food from the kitchen. It was a--uhhh, it was a--ummmm, it was a form of a Christmas cowboy hat made of plastic. Oh, did I mention it is a blow up hat? Really, it was a blow up hat, you know, like the blow up plastic pool you get for kids. It was red and white with the brim and all. The poor lad who had to wear it even had it on sideways. It's a good thing I didn't have any food in my mouth when he first came out or else I probably would have spewed food across the table.
China also loves American music. We've heard Christmas carols (in English) in the airports and in the stores. Today's restaurant was playing Frank Sinatra's music. If I'd still been in the jet lag induced trance I would have thought we were eating in China town in San Francisco instead of actually being in China.
Perry Como sang "Oh there's no place like home for the holidays," but he obviously had never spent a Chrismas in China. I think it's pretty special to be here with family. Of course, if you've been following this blog very long, you know I started it to keep family and friends updated on Judy's cancer. To actually be here now with her cancer surgery and radiation behind her/us is nothing short of miraculous. So, with apologies to Perry, I'll have to say (at least for 2009), "Oh there's no place like China for Christmas when you're wife has survived a cancer scare." (Okay, there's no rhyme or rhythm in the lyrics, but get over it. It's the truth.)
Which brings me to my latest installment in blogger space. Today we went out for lunch. (We've actually been in our city for over 24 hours, but the first 15 don't count because we were in the jet lag induced trance. Think Indiana Jones in the second movie when he was forced to drink that concoction that placed him in a trance and you get an idea of our jet lag induced trance, although I don't think I tried to remove any one's heart--but I digress. I mention this because today I actually began to notice things.) Today we went out for lunch. We went to Grace's favorite restaurant and the food was fabulous. But here's the funny part. The servers at the restaurant all wore hats that kind of resembled Elf hats. They were a shade of red with white trim, but the red had some kind of funky design. They are adapted from the West with an Eastern flair. I guffawed (don't know what that means but think it sounds clever here) at the hat the guy wore who brought the food from the kitchen. It was a--uhhh, it was a--ummmm, it was a form of a Christmas cowboy hat made of plastic. Oh, did I mention it is a blow up hat? Really, it was a blow up hat, you know, like the blow up plastic pool you get for kids. It was red and white with the brim and all. The poor lad who had to wear it even had it on sideways. It's a good thing I didn't have any food in my mouth when he first came out or else I probably would have spewed food across the table.
China also loves American music. We've heard Christmas carols (in English) in the airports and in the stores. Today's restaurant was playing Frank Sinatra's music. If I'd still been in the jet lag induced trance I would have thought we were eating in China town in San Francisco instead of actually being in China.
Perry Como sang "Oh there's no place like home for the holidays," but he obviously had never spent a Chrismas in China. I think it's pretty special to be here with family. Of course, if you've been following this blog very long, you know I started it to keep family and friends updated on Judy's cancer. To actually be here now with her cancer surgery and radiation behind her/us is nothing short of miraculous. So, with apologies to Perry, I'll have to say (at least for 2009), "Oh there's no place like China for Christmas when you're wife has survived a cancer scare." (Okay, there's no rhyme or rhythm in the lyrics, but get over it. It's the truth.)
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Made it
Reader's Digest version: We made it safely to China WITH all our bags.
Expanded (and verbose) version:
Let me set the record straight--international travel is NOT for the faint of heart or the feeble of body, mind and spirit. Since this blogger is feeble in body, mind and spirit, the past 35 hours have been challenging. Actually this has been one of our easiest trips. What originally frustrated us when we booked passage proved to be a blessing in disguise.
When we set out to purchase passage to China we wanted the cheapest way possible. However, we decided against a slow-boat-to-China passage since we would still be in route TO China when we needed to be back at work in the good ole USA. So, our options for economical travel were restricted. Next best option was to use some Rapid Reward tickets from wonderful Southwest Airlines. But again, we faced some restrictions since Southwest doesn't fly into China. (Actually, one of the flight attendants told me they would be glad to fly us into China but they would make 150 stops along the way and couldn't get us there until June. And as much as I love their peanuts, eating only peanuts for 6 months didn't seem like a reasonable gastronomical plan either.) So we began the search to transit via economy and convenience and came up with a plan. We'd use our Rapid Rewards to fly as far as LAX (that's traveleze for Los Angeles International Airport) and use another carrier for the rest of the flight. We used a travel agent out of Springfield, Missouri to help us, which she did. She booked us on Air China, departing LAX at 12:40 A.M., December 18. (Yep, that's 12:40 IN THE MORNING. Yes, you heard me right, just shortly after midnight.)
Okay, we had a departure date and time. Next, booking flights on good ole Southwest using our Rapid Rewards. This got tricky. The only flights available had us leaving LBB (another travel shorthand for Lubbock International Airport) December 17 at 6:30 A.M. (WHAT? LEAVE LUBBOCK ON THE RED EYE, ARRIVE LAX @ 10:00 A.M. LOCAL TIME, AND NOT FLY OUT UNTIL NEARLY 15 HOURS LATER!) To save hundreds of dollars, we accepted this arrangement.
Here's the good part. We decided to see if we could book a room at a nearby hotel in Los Angeles and rest during the day. We did get a room at the Crowne Plaza for our bid price of $50.00. This was a blessing and allowed us to get some sleep and a shower before begining our long trek west.
You'd think flying out of an airport at 12:40 in the morning would leave you plenty of space to operate. I mean, how many people could possible fly out at 12:40 IN THE MORNING? Turns out to be a number roughly equivalent to the population of Alaska and Arkansas COMBINED! We arrived at LAX about 3 hours before our flight was to leave. YES, 3 WHOLE HOURS EARLY. We barely made the flight. (Truth in advertising kicks in here: we actually made it with about 20 minutes to spare, but for international travel, that's making it by the skin of our teeth.) It seems that LAX has only two working x-ray machines for all the luggage needing a health screening prior to being loaded into the belly of the beasts that would deposit them (hopefully) at their intended destination. After checking in at Air China without any lines, we developed the false hope that all the other 300,000 or so people in the airport would not be a hinderance to our luxurous and brief sojourn to the gate for departure. ONCE AGAIN--WRONG! It seems that the TSA, with limited funds for operations, had opted to only have 2 x-ray machines in the terminal. We waited in line for about 40 minutes to drop off our luggage. We next waited about 30 minutes to be examined by the TSA agent conducting an inquiry into the legitimacy of your passport and boarding pass. Upon successfully satisfying his critrical stare, we waited another 25 minutes to be body screened by the TSA. After successfully surviving the screening, we made our short trek to the gate area.
Pardon me, I just nodded off to sleep while writing (like you do whenever you read my postings)FOR THE 15th time. Guess I'd better grab some shut eye while the grabbing is good. I'll post more after a little sleep.
Expanded (and verbose) version:
Let me set the record straight--international travel is NOT for the faint of heart or the feeble of body, mind and spirit. Since this blogger is feeble in body, mind and spirit, the past 35 hours have been challenging. Actually this has been one of our easiest trips. What originally frustrated us when we booked passage proved to be a blessing in disguise.
When we set out to purchase passage to China we wanted the cheapest way possible. However, we decided against a slow-boat-to-China passage since we would still be in route TO China when we needed to be back at work in the good ole USA. So, our options for economical travel were restricted. Next best option was to use some Rapid Reward tickets from wonderful Southwest Airlines. But again, we faced some restrictions since Southwest doesn't fly into China. (Actually, one of the flight attendants told me they would be glad to fly us into China but they would make 150 stops along the way and couldn't get us there until June. And as much as I love their peanuts, eating only peanuts for 6 months didn't seem like a reasonable gastronomical plan either.) So we began the search to transit via economy and convenience and came up with a plan. We'd use our Rapid Rewards to fly as far as LAX (that's traveleze for Los Angeles International Airport) and use another carrier for the rest of the flight. We used a travel agent out of Springfield, Missouri to help us, which she did. She booked us on Air China, departing LAX at 12:40 A.M., December 18. (Yep, that's 12:40 IN THE MORNING. Yes, you heard me right, just shortly after midnight.)
Okay, we had a departure date and time. Next, booking flights on good ole Southwest using our Rapid Rewards. This got tricky. The only flights available had us leaving LBB (another travel shorthand for Lubbock International Airport) December 17 at 6:30 A.M. (WHAT? LEAVE LUBBOCK ON THE RED EYE, ARRIVE LAX @ 10:00 A.M. LOCAL TIME, AND NOT FLY OUT UNTIL NEARLY 15 HOURS LATER!) To save hundreds of dollars, we accepted this arrangement.
Here's the good part. We decided to see if we could book a room at a nearby hotel in Los Angeles and rest during the day. We did get a room at the Crowne Plaza for our bid price of $50.00. This was a blessing and allowed us to get some sleep and a shower before begining our long trek west.
You'd think flying out of an airport at 12:40 in the morning would leave you plenty of space to operate. I mean, how many people could possible fly out at 12:40 IN THE MORNING? Turns out to be a number roughly equivalent to the population of Alaska and Arkansas COMBINED! We arrived at LAX about 3 hours before our flight was to leave. YES, 3 WHOLE HOURS EARLY. We barely made the flight. (Truth in advertising kicks in here: we actually made it with about 20 minutes to spare, but for international travel, that's making it by the skin of our teeth.) It seems that LAX has only two working x-ray machines for all the luggage needing a health screening prior to being loaded into the belly of the beasts that would deposit them (hopefully) at their intended destination. After checking in at Air China without any lines, we developed the false hope that all the other 300,000 or so people in the airport would not be a hinderance to our luxurous and brief sojourn to the gate for departure. ONCE AGAIN--WRONG! It seems that the TSA, with limited funds for operations, had opted to only have 2 x-ray machines in the terminal. We waited in line for about 40 minutes to drop off our luggage. We next waited about 30 minutes to be examined by the TSA agent conducting an inquiry into the legitimacy of your passport and boarding pass. Upon successfully satisfying his critrical stare, we waited another 25 minutes to be body screened by the TSA. After successfully surviving the screening, we made our short trek to the gate area.
Pardon me, I just nodded off to sleep while writing (like you do whenever you read my postings)FOR THE 15th time. Guess I'd better grab some shut eye while the grabbing is good. I'll post more after a little sleep.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
What a decade
Much will be written the next few days trying to summarize this decade. It began with “those who name such things” trying to decide what to call the decade that began with a double zero. Some suggested it would be the “double oughts.” Of course, we should have realized it would be a difficult decade because it came with the terrible threat of Y2K. I remember driving by a United Grocery Store on New Year’s Eve, 1999, and seeing the store crammed with people stocking up for the end of the world. What a crock!
This decade may well be called the “ought ohs.” It began with the threat of the computer virus (afore mentioned Y2K) and ends with another scary set of letters and numbers: H1N1. One year into the decade we had 9-1-1, which brought our nation to a stop for a while and wrecked our economy. With one year left in the decade, we had another financial meltdown with the collapse of our banking and auto industries, just to name a few. Many of us, myself included, lost enough money in the two nose-dives of the stock market to purchase one of Tiger Wood’s estates predicted to be on the market soon. (O.K., I didn’t really loose that much money, but the crashes have sure threatened my retirement. I still can retire following my next 6 birthdays IF I only have birthdays every 7 years.)
When the decade began all three of our children were married and we had one grandchild. Today, all three of our children are still married to their same spouses (quite an accomplishment in today’s world) and we have 9 grandchildren. Along the way we buried one grandchild—Riley May Gerlt, born June 30, 2002, and died July 1, 2002. We began the decade with all four of our parents—in 2006 we buried Judy’s dad (February) and a little later, my mom (June). Pop’s lungs were wearing thin plus the few other—actually several other—ailments finally silenced the man. With Mom it was the “C” bomb. We learned November 8, 2005, that mom had brain cancer. She lasted another six-and-a-half months. The surviving spouses have adapted very well and we are so proud of them.
When the decade began I was starting my 7th year as the senior pastor of a large church just finishing the first phase of a total relocation project. Three years later following a couple of property debacles and staff fiascos, I did the unthinkable. I resigned. If you had told me two decades earlier that I would one day walk away from ministry, I would have questioned your judgment. But there came a time when I was just plain tired of being used as a punching bag. (That’s one of the problems of having the buck stop at your desk. Not all our problems were my fault. In fact, many of our problems were the result of committees making decisions contrary to my leadership. But when you’re the leader, you take the blame.) Call it cowardice or weakness if you will—I called it survival. The next two years found me as a business consultant and medical equipment salesman. I became more familiar with airline schedules, air ports, rental cars and time-delayed travel than I was with my wife. Fortunately, a loving body of people bound together by a common bond and a unique name (Bacon Heights) loved me back into ministry.
This decade is ending with another “C” bomb entering our lives. Judy was diagnosed with breast cancer August 21, the day before our 39th wedding anniversary. Now, four months later, she’s had two surgeries, 20 radiation sessions, and will begin five years of hormone therapy. We have every reason to believe this “bomb” has been defused and will not return. We’re learning to hold our moments together as precious.
In two weeks we begin a new decade. Just as no one could have predicted all that happened in the ought-ohs, no one can predict what will happen in the teens. But this much I do know. The same God who brought us through the troubled and troubling ought-ohs will also see us through the teens (and twenties and thirties…). The past is—well, past. Historians will have plenty to write and heaven help the future students who will have to study and absorb all the things that happened in the ought-ohs. What I’m excited about is the future. I believe our best days are ahead of us.
Tomorrow Judy and I leave for East Asia. We’ll be spending Christmas and New Year’s Day abroad. We’re excited about having time with our kids and grandkids. We’re less than excited about the 35 hour travel time and resultant jet lag. We’re excited about eating dim sung and noodles; not excited about chicken feet and fish heads.
Check back frequently. I plan to ramble a lot over the next two weeks. If nothing else, this blog spot can serve as a case study for psychology students looking for clinical trials. Talk to you soon.
This decade may well be called the “ought ohs.” It began with the threat of the computer virus (afore mentioned Y2K) and ends with another scary set of letters and numbers: H1N1. One year into the decade we had 9-1-1, which brought our nation to a stop for a while and wrecked our economy. With one year left in the decade, we had another financial meltdown with the collapse of our banking and auto industries, just to name a few. Many of us, myself included, lost enough money in the two nose-dives of the stock market to purchase one of Tiger Wood’s estates predicted to be on the market soon. (O.K., I didn’t really loose that much money, but the crashes have sure threatened my retirement. I still can retire following my next 6 birthdays IF I only have birthdays every 7 years.)
When the decade began all three of our children were married and we had one grandchild. Today, all three of our children are still married to their same spouses (quite an accomplishment in today’s world) and we have 9 grandchildren. Along the way we buried one grandchild—Riley May Gerlt, born June 30, 2002, and died July 1, 2002. We began the decade with all four of our parents—in 2006 we buried Judy’s dad (February) and a little later, my mom (June). Pop’s lungs were wearing thin plus the few other—actually several other—ailments finally silenced the man. With Mom it was the “C” bomb. We learned November 8, 2005, that mom had brain cancer. She lasted another six-and-a-half months. The surviving spouses have adapted very well and we are so proud of them.
When the decade began I was starting my 7th year as the senior pastor of a large church just finishing the first phase of a total relocation project. Three years later following a couple of property debacles and staff fiascos, I did the unthinkable. I resigned. If you had told me two decades earlier that I would one day walk away from ministry, I would have questioned your judgment. But there came a time when I was just plain tired of being used as a punching bag. (That’s one of the problems of having the buck stop at your desk. Not all our problems were my fault. In fact, many of our problems were the result of committees making decisions contrary to my leadership. But when you’re the leader, you take the blame.) Call it cowardice or weakness if you will—I called it survival. The next two years found me as a business consultant and medical equipment salesman. I became more familiar with airline schedules, air ports, rental cars and time-delayed travel than I was with my wife. Fortunately, a loving body of people bound together by a common bond and a unique name (Bacon Heights) loved me back into ministry.
This decade is ending with another “C” bomb entering our lives. Judy was diagnosed with breast cancer August 21, the day before our 39th wedding anniversary. Now, four months later, she’s had two surgeries, 20 radiation sessions, and will begin five years of hormone therapy. We have every reason to believe this “bomb” has been defused and will not return. We’re learning to hold our moments together as precious.
In two weeks we begin a new decade. Just as no one could have predicted all that happened in the ought-ohs, no one can predict what will happen in the teens. But this much I do know. The same God who brought us through the troubled and troubling ought-ohs will also see us through the teens (and twenties and thirties…). The past is—well, past. Historians will have plenty to write and heaven help the future students who will have to study and absorb all the things that happened in the ought-ohs. What I’m excited about is the future. I believe our best days are ahead of us.
Tomorrow Judy and I leave for East Asia. We’ll be spending Christmas and New Year’s Day abroad. We’re excited about having time with our kids and grandkids. We’re less than excited about the 35 hour travel time and resultant jet lag. We’re excited about eating dim sung and noodles; not excited about chicken feet and fish heads.
Check back frequently. I plan to ramble a lot over the next two weeks. If nothing else, this blog spot can serve as a case study for psychology students looking for clinical trials. Talk to you soon.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Blindsided
To quote Kermit the Frog, "Times fun when you're having flies." (O.K., I don't think Kermit actually said that, but he could have.) It's been a whirlwind these three plus weeks since I last posted. As I write, it is Thursday, December 10th, and Judy FINISHES her radiation TOMORROW and will be home early afternoon TOMORROW. YEAH!!!!! One week from today we leave for Christmas in China. These weeks have been strange with Judy gone and the weekends have been insane trying to do everything we think should be done IN 3 DAYS.
Emotionally we've handled this cancer thing pretty well. Oh, we've had our moments, but they've been few. The disturbing thing is how the emotional moments come when least expected or most embarrassing. The latest happened the week prior to Thanksgiving. Judy was home for the weekend and we were sitting together in church--front row. Nick (our tremendous worship pastor) had scheduled a time when scriptures scrolled on the screen while he played piano music. Quiet moment, soft music--should have been an emotionally neutral moment. WRONG! I got blindsided. During the reading of scripture and the soft music, I realized how blessed we are to have found the tumor(s) so early (remember: early detection is the key to saving lives) and to have access to the finest treatment facility in the world. I also realized how often we'd prayed for our son to find favor with Chick-fil-A and God answered that one BIG TIME. Chad is in a brand new store--just opened Nov. 5th--in a growing location. He and Erin had their 4th child (our 9th grandchild) Nov. 7th and Macy is doing marvelously well. I also thought about our children in other places and how they are being cared for. I thought about all our grandchildren and how blessed we are. But I think it was the cancer care that got me. My eyes began watering and my nose was running. Yep, got blindsided in church.
As much as I hate to cry I really didn't mind this time. How can I not be grateful to God for His provision. And now, this forced separation is about to end and I'm excited. (If I can only survive the next week getting everything done before we head to LAX and points west--errr, I mean east. (We're going to go so far west that we'll actually be east. Go figure.)
It's my plan to post often during our trip. Please check back here regularly for update. Please leave comments.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Emotionally we've handled this cancer thing pretty well. Oh, we've had our moments, but they've been few. The disturbing thing is how the emotional moments come when least expected or most embarrassing. The latest happened the week prior to Thanksgiving. Judy was home for the weekend and we were sitting together in church--front row. Nick (our tremendous worship pastor) had scheduled a time when scriptures scrolled on the screen while he played piano music. Quiet moment, soft music--should have been an emotionally neutral moment. WRONG! I got blindsided. During the reading of scripture and the soft music, I realized how blessed we are to have found the tumor(s) so early (remember: early detection is the key to saving lives) and to have access to the finest treatment facility in the world. I also realized how often we'd prayed for our son to find favor with Chick-fil-A and God answered that one BIG TIME. Chad is in a brand new store--just opened Nov. 5th--in a growing location. He and Erin had their 4th child (our 9th grandchild) Nov. 7th and Macy is doing marvelously well. I also thought about our children in other places and how they are being cared for. I thought about all our grandchildren and how blessed we are. But I think it was the cancer care that got me. My eyes began watering and my nose was running. Yep, got blindsided in church.
As much as I hate to cry I really didn't mind this time. How can I not be grateful to God for His provision. And now, this forced separation is about to end and I'm excited. (If I can only survive the next week getting everything done before we head to LAX and points west--errr, I mean east. (We're going to go so far west that we'll actually be east. Go figure.)
It's my plan to post often during our trip. Please check back here regularly for update. Please leave comments.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
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