Repost: Asking Questions

Roughly every other week this blog will feature a reposted work. I had been a contributor on two different sites that have since closed or no longer include blogs. I will be reposting pieces that had originally been featured on one of these two sites.  

This was originally posted October 17, 2011

Many little wisps of ideas have passed through my mind since I posted my last blog but none have settled.  I tend to notice things and make connections and then write as I reflect on that.  Frankly, I’ve been bewildered lately.  There are so many “things” to notice.

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Repost: Always On

Every other week my blog will feature a reposted work. I had been a contributor on two different sites that have since closed or no longer include blogs. I will be reposting pieces that had originally been featured on one of these two sites.  

This was originally posted July 30, 2011

Lately I’ve been pondering the distinct differences between the various roles in my life.

Specifically I’ve been considering the differences between my job as a live-in professional on a Christian university campus and my family life.  As a Resident Director I am in a Student Affairs/Student Services administration profession. Because I am at a faith-based university, there is an additional aspect of ministry to the job.  I’m not a pastor by any means, but there is a pastoral aspect to my job. Interestingly, the Resident Director position has been [incorrectly] understood as “the youth pastor who lives in the dorm.”

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Repost: Language in America - 3

Every other week my blog will feature a reposted work. I had been a contributor on two different sites that have since closed or no longer include blogs. I will be reposting pieces that had originally been featured on one of these two sites.  

This was originally posted June 10, 2011

This is the third installment of my review of the book Language in America published in 1969.

As I said in my first reflections on this book:

I’d like to encourage you as my reader in the ways that I was challenged through reading the book.  That challenge is, to pay attention to the words you use.  Take care to mean the words that you say in the way that you say them.  Be aware of the implications of the slang you use and what it might indicate. 

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Secrets, Identities, and Power

One Halloween, when I was in middle school, I was trick-or-treating with my brothers and some other kids stole our candy.

My brothers and I were about five blocks from our house, walking up a street between neighborhoods, away from any houses. A car pulled up next to us, older kids jumped out, there was a scuffle, and they took our bags of candy. My brother had been picked on at school; it may have been those kids and their older friends and brothers. It may have just been a random act of meanness. 

We walked and ran the five blocks home.

I was scared. I was frustrated. And I was angry.

I was scared.

I open with this story because I want you to know that I have very vivid memories of being scared walking home at night.

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Repost: Language in America - 2

Every other week my blog will feature a reposted work. I had been a contributor on two different sites that have since closed or no longer include blogs. I will be reposting pieces that had originally been featured on one of these two sites.  

This was originally posted June 7, 2011

This is the second installment of my review of the book Languagein America published in 1969.  I would like to thank the Indiana Wesleyan University library for their book check-out policy for full time staff.  I think I’ve had the book for over a year.  It was worth every minute. 

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The Meaning of America

In 2010 I (knowingly) heard my first Taylor Swift song, and I loved it.

The song was “Mean”.

It’s upbeat. It’s catchy. It’s a bluegrass/rock make-you-move-to-the-music kinda song.

Its message of the hope of vindication over haters resounded with me.

The video is below. You should watch it.

I’ll wait.

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Repost: Language in America, Part 1

Every other week my blog will feature a reposted work. I had been a contributor on two different sites that have since closed or no longer include blogs. I will be reposting pieces that had originally been featured on one of these two sites.  

This was originally posted June 4, 2011

I just finished reading Language in America: a report on our deteriorating semantic environment.  It is a collection of essays on, well, language in America.  It was published in 1969 and it’s out of print (used copies are available on amazon).  One of the editors is Neil Postman who is most famous for Amusing Ourselves to Death, a book that will change your life in magical ways.  I’d like to share a few thoughts from the book if you’ll bear with me.

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Exceptional, Except

It may have been on the way home from India, maybe it was a trip to California, all I remember for sure is that Papa, Mama, and Isaiah were in an airplane.  Our boy was unhappy and loud, as small children often are while traveling. We did what we needed to do to get through the trip and convince him to calm down. My wife processed the experience publicly through Facebook, sharing something like:

“I hope I’m not a bad parent giving my kid this much chocolate on the airplane”

The resounding response from our friends and family was that, even for great parents, exceptions are permissible during airline travel.

It would be chaos, anarchy, and foolishness to live without guidelines, standards, and even rules. We should all aspire to The Good. Parents should not give children large amounts of chocolate.

On the other hand, all of these rules need to allow for exceptions. Compassion, necessity, or wisdom will reveal times when the rule must be suspended.

…Like on an airplane with a three year old.  

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Freedom, Then and Now

Then

I don’t remember how old I was when I first started asking. But I do remember, with fondness the many times that I was able to “stay in the car by myself” when my parents went into the store.

I may have been tired or grumpy. But probably, most frequently, I wanted to read a book. My parents would go into the store and I had my own private time to immerse myself in whatever story I was reading at the time.  The sun in Ventura County, CA would warm the car to a comfortable, nap-inducing climate (nowhere near enough to be dangerous, of course).

I honestly don’t remember how many times this happened. It happened more than twice, for sure, but memories blur. I just remember it as a period of time in my life, not as individual occurrences. My parents probably remember the details better than I do; I remember things better from my adult years than I do from my youth. Parents also tend to remember milestones in the lives of their children fairly well. 

I assume these instances, or this period of time in my life, held the same meaning for my parents as it did for me, albeit from a different perspective:

It meant that I was growing up.

I had volition of my own.

I could make important choices.

I could separate myself from my parents in small but meaningful ways.

It meant that I had freedom of my own.

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Bible Binging

My wife and sons were gone this past week.

As I was preparing for my upcoming week up bachelorhood, I remember thinking, “I can binge on my bible reading.”

I’m trying to read through the bible in a year again and it’s not going well.  I started in October and was way ahead when November rolled around. Then the inevitable happened: I hit Leviticus. Needless to say, I’m way behind now.

So I thought, maybe without any of the other wonderful, but time consuming, aspects of family (like kids to feed and put to bed) I would have ample time to sit and power through several chapters of divinely inspired holy text. 

Almost immediately I realized how foolish this sort of thinking was.  We’ve turned into a “binging” culture, and that’s not a good thing. Typically we’ll binge on TV shows or movies, watching a season or two of our favorite show in a weekend.  This approach to consuming media isn’t necessarily good; it’s just what we do.

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You, Pretend

Sometimes I sing to my sons when we put them to sleep. If they are upset or restless I’ll try to soothe them with a children's church song. Over the years, Isaiah has picked up “Jesus Loves Me” and a few other songs and sometimes asks for me to sing them. I think it’s good for his developing theology to know of these types of arguably trite, but true lyrics.

The Story

A few months ago, we were still in the Midwest and my office was still connected with our kitchen. Having one’s office in the same space as one’s home was a blessing and a curse. As any Student Affairs professional will attest, the layout makes boundaries difficult. On this particular day, I had stepped into my office to accomplish minor task. I don’t remember what it was and it may not have even been directly work-related. More than likely I was responding to a short email or checking Facebook. Maybe I had remembered an interesting or clever observation I’d made earlier that day and I was taking a moment to post it on Facebook so all my friends could tell me I was funny. To set the stage here, the bottom line is:

I was busy, but I wasn’t doing anything important.

…In walks Isaiah.

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