The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 9

#9 of 52 : THE MILLER AVENUE BOYS

External Photo Clues:
None

Imagine:
I found this picture as I was sorting through my dad’s boxes up in his attic. He’s getting ready to move in with me now that he’s having trouble getting around, so we have some cleaning and getting rid of things to do. But this picture, oh man. I had to put down what I was doing. It was so full of hope. So full of promise.

On the back it said “The Miller Avenue Boys” – Tommy Jones, Petey Jones, Hank Walters, and Royt Banks, that’s my dad.

Tommy Jones, now there was a character. My dad said that he saw ‘Nam, or maybe it’s better to say that ‘Nam saw him. Prior to that he had been somewhat of a wild kid, cutting class, pulling pranks, smoking from not long after this picture was taken. But ‘Nam really worked a number on him. Continue reading The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 9

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MacGyver Was A Real Man

First of all, the the fact that MacGyver was a fictional television character, which therefore clearly gives great irony to the title of this blog post, is not lost on me.

If you were not a fan, a quick perusal of the show’s Wikipedia page will tell you that MacGyver was a secret government agent who:

A) Preferred non-violent resolution to fighting where possible.
B) Often refused to carry a gun.
C) Was educated as a scientist with a background as a bomb team technician in Vietnam. (really who isn’t these days?)
D) Was laid back, intelligent, resourceful, and optimistic.

Oh yeah… I forgot letter E.

E) He could also solve just about any problem known to man, short of disarming an atomic bomb, with everyday readily available materials and his ever present duct tape and Swiss Army knife. On second thought, I think he might have actually disarmed an atomic bomb at some point during season three.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what made MacGyver a real man. Sure his anti-violence approach was laudable. But hey, I know a lot of dudes who aren’t violent who also aren’t very manly.

Now MacGyver on the other hand… give that guy a pine tree air freshener, a tube sock, a paper clip, a ballpoint pen, a rubber band, tweezers, nasal spray, and perhaps a turkey baster or two and he was virtually unstoppable.

MacGyver was a real man if there ever was one because he knew how to improvise.

Which brings me to the topic my post today. Last night my lovely and talented wife decided she wanted to return something she bought on the internet. We still had the box and all of the shipping material so she called the company to find out how to go about returning it.

After a few minutes on hold and the joy that is Burt Bacharach hold music, the customer service rep answers and tells her that she’s called just in time. They have a 30 day return policy and today is day 30 so the guy schedules her a FedEx pickup for this morning and tells her to put the pre-addressed return label that came with the package on the box and leave it on our porch first thing in the morning.

Simple enough, right? Continue reading MacGyver Was A Real Man

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Shaking the Saddlebags #3: I Don’t Know Myself Anymore

This is Brennan. He's my Tuesday trainer. Brennan - Tuesdays, Molly - Thursdays. Someday - just me...all on my own.

See Fantastic Fear Trifecta for previous ‘Saddlebags’ entry.

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Last week, the wind was whipping around our campus buildings at full force, temperatures were somewhere in the lower-frigid quadrant and I was walking in my medium-high heels to The Little Bakery.  From my office to this cozy little establishment is the equivalent of about two city blocks in distance.  I hadn’t taken four steps outside when I thought, “Forget this, I’m running.”  I ran on my toes all the way to the cafe, kicking in my “running-type breathing” about halfway there.

I walked in, checked out the healthy meals in the cooler, didn’t like what I saw and walked over to the second display to view the salads.  Then I got lost in thought: I had just chosen to run.  In heels, no less. Whaaattt?? I’m sorry, who am I?  And, when have I ever CHOSEN to run in – oh, say – the last year?

Then I remembered I CHOSE to walk up the stairs that day.  The choice wasn’t even conscious.  I just remember thinking, “I want to stretch my legs.”  That’s it.  Then I thought back to my workout on Tuesday.  It was brutal…I had gotten there a little late due to an advising session with one of my students and I didn’t really warm up.  We spent most of the time lifting weights, and at the end of the session, Brennan said, “Okay. That’s it – you’re done.”

So what did I say back to him? Continue reading Shaking the Saddlebags #3: I Don’t Know Myself Anymore

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Deconstructing My “White” Christian Self, Part 3

It’s been February.

Black History month.

For thirty plus years that didn’t mean much to me.

But now with two black children from Ethiopia, I have come to care deeply about this month.

It’s an opportunity for me to lean in and listen to those who have suffered from America’s original sin of racism.

For the last three years during Black History month, I’ve been reading through Bearing the Cross by David Garrow, a Pulitzer award winning bio-epic of Dr. King and the history of the Civil Rights movement.

This book has been like a hammer in terms of deconstructing my “white” Christian self…and theology.

Truth, I’m learning, is largely situated.

All of us absorb like moons the cultures we live in.

There is an inevitable cultural transference.

From those over us like parents and pastors.

To those around us like our peers and pop culture icons.

Not to mention the places we inhabit.

Like our churches and schools and neighborhoods.

Growing up in an evangelical, middle class, suburban culture, for example, I certainly absorbed a particular worldview.  Those who passed it onto me did so with a genuine desire to see me respond to the call of discipleship.

I am so thankful for this.

But having said that, I never had a Dr. King speak into my life early on. Continue reading Deconstructing My “White” Christian Self, Part 3

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Meanwhile Back at The Ranch: It’s Not Always Blue Skies and Butterflies: Part Two

Continued from Part One~

So Monday morning arrived and I was as ready as I could be to face my 7th graders.  Of course, this morning was going to be tougher than usual considering the news I had to share.  I waited for someone to ask about the baby goats, but no one did.  I  quietly announced that we had some “new kids on the block.”  That’s when the questions started rolling out.  I mentioned that we’d had two sets of twins, and I was going to show them a video.  I heard one little girl whisper under her breath, “I only see two; where are the others?”  I let them read the essay I had written about my experience that weekend.  I think I cried four separate times as I talked to four different classes. It was a quiet day in my room.

We still had one pregnant goat left in the pasture.  I tried not to let the loss of the two babies diminish my enthusiasm for the impending birth of Blackie’s offspring.   Blackie had already had one baby while with us: Baby Brown.  She had been a good mother, and the weather was getting warmer, so that was going to be good for the new babies and for me when I videoed her birth.  Of course, I was “in town” when she gave birth on a Sunday afternoon.  Could the goats had known my documentary plan?

A call from Greg revealed that Blackie had given birth to two healthy little girls.  One of them was white with all the brown markings of a typical Boer goat, white body and brown head.  The other goat was the brown of our Red Dirt Chronicles shirts.  Really, that’s the only way I know to describe it, and she had a black stripe down her back and black feet.  I tried to envision them as Greg described them.    The babies were curled up together in the corner of the shed and already as big as small dogs.  I guess their mom had not had time to warn them that I would be wanting to pick them up and hold them, so they were extremely trusting when I made my way to them to touch them and cuddle them one at a time.

Twins!
This was before they really understood that they should be running away from me.

We enjoyed watching our four new babies grow as the week turned into the weekend, and finally, Greg mentioned something about one of Blackie’s babies having the same “hangy downy things” as her mother.  I had not really noticed the “wattles” on either side of Blackie’s neck or on her baby’s neck.  I also did not know they were called “wattles” until I typed in a search for “what are the hangy downy things on either side of my goats neck.”  One of the most reliable web sites revealed that wattles are common…. in DAIRY GOATS.  Blackie is a dairy goat! Continue reading Meanwhile Back at The Ranch: It’s Not Always Blue Skies and Butterflies: Part Two

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Showcasing Red Dirt culture ~ authored and managed by contributors with connections to the great state of Oklahoma.