Chicago at Last

Well, the day that's been talked about for many moons has finally come. I am no longer an Ohio resident. I live in Illinois. I am living with quite the terrific family. I know Sean from school of course, but his whole family is just great. Very into the arts (violin lessons were going all day...I wanted to bring back my violin from third grade), very generous ("We'll just plan on you joining us for dinner unless you let us know otherwise"), and there's even a big friendly dog. I love dogs. Almost as much as I love penguins and dolphins and elephants.

My room is pretty much all set. I wanted to get it as organized as possible since in two days I have to pack up for Oregon for six days then get ready for Blom's wedding for another few days. The summer's off and running. Crazy. My room is nestled in the corner of the basement, with comfy carpet, a big armoire, and even a heated comforter for those cold winter nights. Joy and I put together a bookcase and mementos and pictures from Italy and Nepal are everywhere. I love it.

With that being said, I'm exhausted. So now I'm gonna head downstairs and lay down in my new bed. But not before I say goodnight to the dog.

Tennis Champ

Now, I don't want to brag, really, I don't. But I'm going to. You see, I've never been too much of an athlete. Sure, I played a lot when I was a kid, but over the years, I've slacked off. Well, I'm regaining my sports side, and we all know about the Cubs game, Pacers game, and oh yes, that glorious day of skiing in Vail.

Well, last year the Chorale started a new tradition. Since the Chorale people are always staying around to sing in graduation with nothing to do after finals, we decided, of course, to start a tennis championship. Well, last year was amazing. My partner was Hugh Conor Angell, and it was rough, but ended up with the title. 2004 Chorale Tennis Champions.

Well, last night I was informed that the second annual championship was at 9 this morning. Well, already being here for Joy's graduation, I thought I'd just stop by. You know, do an opening serve or something. Well, it worked out for me to play again, and not just play, but be partners with Hugh Conor Angell. We played three rough sets. In the second, we were down 4-1, but came back to win 6-4. Then it was pushing towards a glorious ending, where we once again claimed the title. Oh yes, oh yes. 2005 Chorale Tennis Champions.

Next year Conor will be a senior. You better believe I'll be back for a third victory.

From Shelby to Upland

In two days, Joy will be a college graduate. She took her last final yesterday and is pretty much just sticking around waiting for the diploma. Really, I'm proud of her. She's a pretty unbelievable student, much better than I ever was, and she still made time for fun and friends and all of that that makes college college. (Well, TU doesn't really do the drinking/partying scene, and Joy didn't either, so I guess she did not what makes college college, but that which makes Taylor Taylor.)

Tonight I get off of work at 10 and then I'm driving to Upland. It will be the last time I make this trip from Shelby to Upland, at least for quite a while. Honestly, I've hated having a long-distance relationship this year. Yeah, people say that there are benefits and all of that, which may be true, but I don't really care. I didn't like it one bit. So to make life easier all year, I would make my regular trips to Upland, it seems at least once a month. I bet this year I've driven to Upland about 15 times, three hours each way. I've become rather intimate with US-30. I know where i can spead on 75. I know I know all the exits and know all about the construction currently going on. I know where the cheapest gas is (right when I leave 30 and am about to get on 75) and know where I got pulled over. Actually, I know both of the places I got pulled over. For a long stretch, 30 is just two lanes and you're usually stuck behind some dumb truck. I know I'm getting close to it becoming four lanes again when I pass that one church with the white sign on the right. I also know that I have forty minutes left when I pass the beautiful Catholic church on my left side soon after crossing the Indiana border. I also know exactly where it was that I looked in my side-view mirror and saw my gas cover dangling from the side of the car. I know I smile every time I see the one church called "Happy Corner Church." I think more churches need names like that. Okay, probably not. It might be giving out a deceptive message. I also love the hotel that is straight from an Alfred Hitchcock movie, certainly hasn't been occupied since the last World War, but it still has that "Vacancy"sign barely visible.

I remember always being delighted on the way to Upland, and it always seems twice as long on the way back. This is my last time making this trip this year, and probably for a really long time, and probably the last time all by myself. Sad as it may be, I love Upland, so it's kinda sad that Joy is graduating and I'll no longer have a reason to visit every month. But when she walks across that stage, I also know it means we're both moving to Chicago within the week and that means this long-distance nonsense is over.

This will be a good weekend to be sure. Time with Blom and Kelmo, music practice with Loralee, hanging out with the in-laws. I'll even be spending time with Joy's brother, Matt, another Taylor grad who isn't exactly similar to me. Maybe this will be the weekend we really connect. (Doubtful, but can't a guy hope?) So yes, as I make this journey for the last time, there will be both delight and sadness, joy and sorrow. I am guessing Joy will feel those same things when she packs up her boxes at the Ritz and finishes up four years of college. At least we'll be able to talk over this feeling and emotions in person and not on the phone. Congratulations, class of 2005.

This means I graduated from high school five years ago. I haven't gotten any info about a reunion or anything and certainly won't be in attendance if there is one. I may miss my trips from Shelby to Upland, but I'm pretty sure I won't miss Shelby. Indeed, this is a good thing.

Richard Cory

In the last few years, I've become quite a fan of Simon & Garfunkel. Really, they're amazing. Nothing like the '60's. Not only are the harmonies just perfect, but they're musically genius. Don't get me wrong, I love Black Eyed Peas, but somehow, Simon & Garfunkel are just a few steps ahead. They say the words "synopated time" and you better believe the music behind it is syncopated. Don't even get me going on the polyphonic texture in "Scarborough Fair." Plus, they speak of things that really matter. (Actually, I think that may be an actual lyric from one of their songs...) They question life, truth, love, home. They have a song called "The Sound of Silence." Genius, genius I say!!! So yes, I find them quite fantastic.

This week I've been listening a lot to Simon & Garfunkel, and I really enjoy the song "Richard Cory." It's upbeat, fun, easy to sing along to while I'm driving to work. But as is usual with S&G, the song is a lot more than just what it appears. In this song it's not too hard to see, because the lyrics say it all. Basically, Richard Cory has it all in the eyes of those around him. He's rich, stylish, sexy, and famous. Basically, he's living the American dream. The singer even muses, "Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he's got."

The chorus goes like this:

"But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory."

The ultimate irony occurs when Richard Cory went home one night, and "put a bullet through his head." It seems Richard Cory wasn't all that happy after all. I find that most of us know things like money and fame and beauty won't bring us happiness. I know that I know that, but I still want those things, more than I should. My mind knows it's not all that it's cracked up to me, but my body still desires those things, is pulled towards them.

I have a lot of Richard Cory's in my life. There are so many times that I wish that I could be someone else. It's one of the things I hate the most, because what it is in essence saying is that I'm not content with who I am. I want to be content with who I am, who God made me to be, but there is always someone out there I would rather be. Maybe not the whole person, but some bit or piece. This person is more fun. This person is more funny. This person is more well-read. This person is more insightful. This person is more wise. This person is more loving. This person is more well-liked. This person is better looking. This person doesn't even think about money. This person is more talented. This person, this person.... The list could go on and on.

Many of those things, like vanity and money, are simply dumb. But they're still there. And I think it's okay to desire more wisdom or to want a greater ability to love and love well. But when those things turn into jealousy or self-hatred, I don't think that's a good thing. I often fall into that trap and I never seem to quite learn.

Changing subjects completely, I am only in this world because of my mother, the dear Vickers, the Mothership. Happy 55th birthday, mom. When I told her Happy Birthday this morning, she said, "Fifty-five years young." You go girl. Booyah.

The Deer on I-71

I think I witnessed something pretty scketchy earlier this afternoon. I was driving back home from Columbus, visiting ex-roommate Kevin of the Sea Welty. It was a beautiful hour. I felt energized and rested, and Kelly Clarkson was blaring from the speakers. I pulled off to get gas at the rather low $1.92/gallon, got back on the highway, and then, a few miles later, around exit 140, I witnessed something I'd never seen or imagined before.

We have all seen dead deer as we drive to and fro. It always saddens me and I'm always thankful that I've never actually hit a deer. In my lifetime as a driver, I've hit both a racoon and a possum. There was also a time when I was just a very young driver, when I hit a chipmunk. Now, you may be tempted to laugh here, but please do not, as it is still a rather emotional memory for me. You see, it was a splendid spring day, beautiful and blue, soft and light. Love was in the air. Well, I was driving on the back rounds on my way to Meijer and all of a sudden two chipmunks started to run across the road, certainly in the middle of a game of tag or whatever games two chipmunks in love in spring play. They were "twitterpated" if you will. I tried to brake, but my rear tire got the second chipmunk. I was devastated. I started to shake, and then I started to cry a little bit. My mom was with me and can witness to the truthfulness of all of this. I even turned the car around and when back to the scene to make sure Alvin's girl wasn't suffering. There she was, pathetic and ruined. Darkeness came into that beautiful spring day and death cast a shadow over the land. I remember it vividly.

Anyway, back to today. So yes, we've all seen dead deer along the road, and we always just assume it is someone's job to come and clean up the deer and other dead animals along the road. Today I realized that I had never once actually seen anyone cleaning up these carcasses. Well, at exit 140, I noticed a white truck pulled off the road and then saw two mem scrambling up a bank. And what did I see coming up from the deep grass? You guessed it...Bambi himself. (I don't even want to recall my time of seeing Bambi in the movie theatre. We went for my birthday party when I was just a wee one. Well, needless to say, just to remember the part where Bambi's mother died still gives me shivers. I mourned until the following birthday when we played it safe and had mac and cheese on the porch.) But what alarmed me the most about these two men who had this deer was that they were not putting the deer into the bed of the truck to be taken away and buried properly. Each one of them held onto two legs (much as if they were playing a game and were threatening to throw a friend into a cold pool with all their clothes on) and were dragging the deer away from the road, towards a field. I slowed down to watch what was going on. They dragged the deer behind a tree and simply left it there and walked away.

I don't know about you, but this startled me. This changes what I will think everytime I see a dead deer along the road from now until I die. I wonder if they were doing what they are supposed to do or simply wanted to take the easy route on their job. Either way, I don't like it, not one bit. I suppose even though many of the forests are gone, what Bambi's mom said still holds true:

Bambi: What happened mother? Why did we all run?
Bambi's Mother: Man was in the forest.

I think of Eden. I guess there wasn't death in that place I can't really imagine. But if there was, and if a deer had died, I wonder what Adam would have done. I wonder if there would have been a tear, a little service, maybe Eve would sing a song. I get sad when I see dead animals and I was sad when I saw that deer on I-71 being dragged behind a tree. Thanks for listening.

My OG Friends

Last night as I was driving home, I realized that I actually enjoy going to work on most days. I remembered thinking I would hate being a waiter when I first started. On my first day, I spilled water all over a dear old man and later had a table ask me what my problem was. “Oh, you just started. Well, good luck…I hope you last.” Well, I have, and I'm a better person for it.

It’s funny looking back at my nine months as a waiter here in Ohio. Sure, there have been moments of amazing frustration (“Excuse me, a few drops of the water you were pouring splashed onto my pasta…I want another one for free” or the time I said, “Ma’am, I talked to the cooks myself and they did put extra sauce on your pasta.” The response: “They’re lying.”), but all in all, it’s been a really good job. They let me take so many days (and sometimes weeks) off and in December I was even Hospi Hero of the Month.

Apparently when I started I was really quiet. Now, everyone reminds me of this. The thing is that while I never thought I would enjoy any of the people I worked with, it turns out that I rather enjoy almost all of them. As I was driving home, I thought of some specific people and what I’ll miss the most about them. I thought I’d share a few here with you now:

TABITHA, who always makes jokes about black people (she is one) and just always tells me, “You’re crazy.” I tease her about her boyfriend busser and the fact that one night she thought the grilled green and yellow squash on an entrée were lemons and limes. She is also the one who was talking about a sexy waiter who was fired. I told her, “Tabby, you get to work with me. Don’t you think I’m sexy?” Slight pause, then, “Yeah, you’re sexy in that intellectual kinda way.” Wow, what a compliment.

TRACY, who every once-in-a-while will smack me on the butt and remind me that she loves my lips. I coached her as she prepared for her first plane flight, we’ve talked about problems with her kids and ex-husband, and she even came up to me the other night and said, “Hey, there are pistachios hidden behind the computer if you want some. Don’t share with anyone else, but they’re there if you want them.”

BRITTANY, the spunky red-head who one day came up to me randomly and said, “Can we get drunk together sometime…I really wanna see you drunk.” (We didn’t.) I also remember the time we were sitting down counting our money and she told me she didn’t know much about God or Jesus. That was a good conversation.

SANDY, the manager who knows about good wine, has been to Italy, and takes an active part in asking and caring about my life. She is known for getting rather intense when the kitchen is backed up on a Friday night. She gets this hoarse yell going and all the veins in her neck start popping out. I just laugh. I think it’s special when someone else’s anger can turn into my joy. I really do love Sandy. I hope she sticks to her word and comes up to Chicago for the wedding.

JONATHAN, the very nice guy going to seminary to be a pastor. Bless his heart, he always wants to pick up extra tables, which is fine, but he is pretty well known for getting ahead of himself. He gets that dazed look in his eyes and then comes to you and says, “Hey, can you do me a favor?” I never had the heart to say no. I bet I did hundreds. One of my favorites: “Can you take two toscana soups to 80, 5 mints to 86, and a peach tea, a diet coke to table 83. Oh, and can you get the bottle of Chardonnay from the bar and open it for table 85?” Yes, that is a true scenario. Let it be known, Jonathan is also the one who came up to me one day and said, “Hey, make sure you give me your address when you move so I can send you a wedding gift.” I guess he’s paying me back for all those favors.

BECKY, the rather pessimistic salad-maker turned cook. She picked on me when I first started, always saying, “Have I ever told you that you’re a loser?” “Yes, Becky, you told me yesterday.” She’d always say just kidding, but at first I wasn’t too sure. But there were those good chats when she’d really be intrigued by the fact that Joy and I don’t sleep together or she’d start to cry some when I talked her through some things with her busser boyfriend. (Yes, if you are wondering, there are countless OG Hookups that happen all the time…)

JANE, the salad-maker I just love. She’s probably in her mid-fifties, is spunky and fun, and has had a pretty rough hand dealt her in life. A husband who divorced her, a young baby who died, a second husband that has been extremely sick for the last eight years, a daughter who hasn’t spoken to her mother in three years. But she clings to God and it’s really beautiful. She told me she wants a bunch of us to go out for a few beers before I leave. I have no doubt we’d discuss life and love and God and pain. I hope it happens.

JOEL, the divorced father of two who just wants to be married. He just longs to find a lasting relationship. He is also convinced that there is such a thing as a “bad gene,” a gene that makes some people (for instance, his ex-wife) not able to be monogamous. They can’t stay in a marriage for more than a few years and be happy. Needless to say, Joel and I have had many many conversations while running in and out of the kitchen.

NELLY, the Filipino spitfire. Short and beautiful, she always sneaks me homemade egg rolls or whatever other concoction she made that no one else will try and like but me. Goodness, she even invited me to her son’s two-year birthday party. She’s so fun and so nice, but she also steals tables if you’re not careful. Almost every other server will back me up on this one.

RANDALL, my service manager who has really become a friend. We talk about some hard aspects of life, he questions his worth as a person, and he is always telling me that he hates to see me go, that I’m the “cream of the crop,” irreplaceable. That means a lot to me, and the thing is, I think he means it. He cares about me as a person. I often wonder about Randall and how he’s doing. In one discussion, he told me that he has “no redeemable qualities.” All I could say was, “Randall, if that was true, then why would God desire to redeem you?” Since he’s a manager, we’re not really allowed to talk outside of work, but we’re supposed to sit down for a real chat to discuss what’s going on with him the day after I’m done. Randall always tells me he’s gonna miss me, and the truth is I’m gonna miss him too.

Yeah, I know this is getting long, so I’m going to leave some others out. If I’ve seen anything, it’s that we’re all unique. None of us think or act the exact same, we all have our quirks and annoyances, and we’re all beautiful. After being around these people for almost a year, I’ve come to see that each one of them is beautiful and special and wonderful and lovable. I’m sure this will be true up at my new OG in Chicago, but I am a little nervous. No one knows me there, I’ll probably be all shy and quiet, they won’t get my jokes or want me to sing opera for the big dinner parties, they won’t think I’m so intelligent just because I have a college degree. But I hope that when I’m done I’ve found the people I have yet to meet beautiful and special and wonderful and lovable.

I have more thoughts about my time at the OG that perhaps I’ll share later, but this is enough for now. I have ten working days left, and I’m going to try to enjoy each and every one. Then there will be hugs and good-byes, promises to visit, and then I’ll drive away, wondering what’s going to happen to Tracy’s kids, wondering if Becky will ever stop having that fight with her boyfriend, wondering if Brittany ever did start going to church like she said she would, wondering if Jane will ever talk to her daughter again.

Penguins

Today in the mail came my new book, "Penguins and Golden Calves" by Madeleine L'Engle. Really, I've only read the first twenty pages or so, but I'm quite excited about it. I have always wanted to go to Antarctica, and at the top of my list of life goals is the desire to visit all seven continents. (Kevin LaMar, remember when we looked up jobs in Antarctica? I still think you should have done it. Joy and I could've visited for our honeymoon...)

Secondly, and the real reason why I think I'm going to love this book, is because I love love love love love penguins. I think it goes back to Mary Poppins, one of my favourite all-time movies with my all-time favourite Dame Julie Andrews. Remember that scene where Dick van Dyke dances with the penguins at that little cafe after the big horse race? Oh yes, that has always been one of my favourites, and really, I trace my love of penguins back to that film. Oh, and we musn't forget the book "Mr. Popper's Penguins," one of my childhood favourites as well. The man buys penguins and creates a little ice rink for them in his basement. I used to dream of doing the same thing when I was a child. Goodness, sometimes I still do.

This love for penguins was confirmed in my adulthood (well, I think "adulthood" is still up for debate) last fall when Joy and I visited the Columbus Zoo. Certainly, penguins are some of the coolest animals in the world. They would swim and waddle and waddle and swim. It's a beautiful life. They live in community, they know how to have fun, and let's be honest, they have a great color scheme going on. You know I love the classic look. I bet Audrey Hepburn loved penguins too.

(Speaking of Audrey, I do love her, but I am still a little upset that she got the movie role for "My Fair Lady" over Julie Andrews, when it was Julie's Broadway role to begin with. Oh, those Hollywood producers didn't think Julie was a big enough name. I bet they regretted that decision when Julie got the Academy Award that year for "Poppins" and the beautiful Hepburn...who didn't even do the singing but gave that task to "Sound of Music" nun Marni Nixon...walked away with nothing!)

So yes, I love penguins. That is my thought for today. Perhaps tonight at the Olive Garden I'll pull down my pants a little bit and waddle around. Yes, I can't wait till the day I get to Antarctica and see the penguins for myself. That will be a glorious day.