I Feel...........

Given my consistently marshmallow-like figure (Hey, don’t hate me because I aspire to sweetness), sometimes I wonder if my feeling healthier lately isn’t just all in my head. I mean, 7 pounds of weight loss CAN make a difference, but how much really? (Especially considering I’m still probably 23 pounds above my ideal body weight) Still, it’s undeniable (to myself, anyway) that although I have a long way to go, I am definitely feeling better than I have in a long time. Little indicators keep popping up from time to time to remind me.

A couple of weeks ago, I discovered almost by accident that I can throw front handsprings again… On the mats, and completely pain-free at that! (although I’m not claiming it’s a pretty sight) One of the students at the gym couldn’t seem to envision what she was trying to learn, so I demonstrated it onto a crash pad: Safely, carefully, and responsibly. My immediate reaction was that the crash pad was just getting in my way, so I just switched to the regular floor. The other upside was that it really helped the student to wrap her mind around the body mechanics of it.

Yesterday, I started the adult gym workout session by stretching like I always do. But this time, I spent perhaps an extra 5 minutes doing some really serious stretching like in years gone by. And wonder of wonders if it didn’t lead to a bunch of flexibility breakthroughs and some serious endorphin release. I threw a real dive roll on the ground for the first time in perhaps 15 years, and my knees didn’t explode!

Nor are they sore today, and I’m still feeling more relaxed and flexible a day later. In my office at work, I got the urge to try a handstand. Recent attempts have served to remind me that I’m old and out of shape. I can get up, but then I just spend a few seconds grunting, shuffling, and flailing around before I come back down. Well, on the very first attempt, I went up and held it like a rock for about 15 seconds! No grunting, no flailing, and no hand movement whatsoever… AND no discomfort! Go figure.

Maybe there’s hope for me yet.

When Life Blows

Ah, November in Central California; the time of year when a good wind storm blows a bunch of leaves off of the trees and you notice for the first time that some of them are finally changing colour. That’s how fall arrives around here, with several inches of leaves everywhere, and yet most of them are still green and on the trees.

With Fall, as you may well know (unless you live in the Middle East or some other desert region), comes a plethora of fauna strewn about the yard in a most haphazard and cluttered manner. You realize that it’s vital to do a little yard work before it buries you entirely, and so off you go. The depressing thing about it all, besides the endless raking, is that you know that this is going to be an ongoing process until it’s nearly Christmas.

And so it was that I found myself venturing forth alone to beat back the elements of Mother Nature. However, this year was different, because we now own our very own leaf blower! It might be an electric model, but according to Consumer Reports, this no longer necessarily means that it’s a wimpy mama’s boy who’s never cut the umbilicus. I wouldn’t know either way because I’d never used one. But my initial conclusion was reached after about 2 minutes of use.

Conclusion (Status: initial): A leaf blower gets the job done a LOT faster than raking does.

As I progressed with the task and my experience with the device increased, I was able to reach several other interesting (if not valuable) conclusions.

C1) It’s a lot faster and more orderly to create a cushion of air under a bed of leaves and move the whole bed that way than to blast away at them from the top of the pile. Less mess + more movement = quicker success with less grit in your teeth.

C2) It is possible, without any practice whatsoever, to lift a plant out of its pot and hurl it against a wall three feet away; dirt, roots, and all. But it’s not prudent to share this information with your wife.

C3) You can play fetch with a dog without even touching the ball. Just blast the magical orb with the air, and the dog will chase it happily.

C4) A smart dog isn’t necessarily bright: Drop your ‘fetch’ ball into a violent maelstrom of leaves 2.5 feet thick, and it’s really kinda... well, gone! The leaves with the ball scent will get blown all over the place, throwing you way off the path in your quest to recover it.

C5) A medium sized dog who likes to snap at streams of water directed toward his canine-hood will do the same with a stream of leaves and be quite thrilled about it. HOWEVER, C5b) attempting the same with a very SMALL dog (aka. Itsy Bitsy Mitzy) is akin to watching an umbrella turn inside out in a wind storm. Don’t worry, she’ll land and stop rolling eventually and come back for more.

C6) With a little honing, you can peg a canine with its own doo doo at upwards of 5 paces. The canine will not necessarily appreciate the irony, but you sure will!

After completing my task, I had a huge pile of leaves about 2 feet thick and 10x30 feet in area. The yard looked much more orderly than it had before, and I really feel good about that. However, my final conclusion needed to be modified a little.

Conclusion (status: final): Experimental leaf blowing will get the job done potentially quite a bit SLOWER than raking. But…. WHO CARES?!

After Ten Years

I just returned home yesterday from taking my lovely wife to Hawaii for our 10 year Anniversary. She also got a laptop for her very own about a month ago. All told, it was very nice. Pictures to follow (maybe)

The Accelerated Life

In case anyone doubts that my life has been a touch out of the ordinary thus far, let me recap. I was married nearly 10 years ago and am still married. Not very unique? Well then, consider WHO I got married to. I don’t know about you, but I think that makes me one DLD! (Downright Lucky Dude) Léonie has had the patience to put up with me for a whole 10 years, and that is SOMETHING!

I went into the professional field of Speech and Language Pathology. Most people have no idea what that even means, but that’s okay. What’s different about it is that it is highly dominated by humans of the female persuasion; Even more so than teaching, nursing, and the like. I have no problem with that, as many competency components draw from some of my personal strengths. I have seen good success with clients across the whole range of the lifespan, from really tiny to very old. Plus, I don’t really mind women, so my colleagues and I get along just fine.

I moved to Central California. It’s hot, brown/yellow, and populated such that I am a ’visible minority.’ Don’t get me wrong here, I always have been and continue to be comfortable in a highly multicultural environment. But the location and climate?! If there is one thing consistent about people who grew up in British Columbia, it’s that anywhere they relocate to is a decided downgrade in beauty, and thus livability. I am no exception to this rule. However, here I still am!

Although I am only 33, I have already retired! Not from my career, mind you. But this week, I officially stepped down from being the Director of the Pathfinder Club after leading it for five years. Talk about a rapid growing experience. It was that, and a whole lot more. However, the time has come to re-focus my life on what really matters.

Another unique thing is that I RETIRED from gymnastics and acro-sport fully 15 years ago. The knees and other parts of my body told me emphatically that it was high time that I do so, and (for a change) I wisely listened to it. And yet, this week I logged over 12 hours in the gym at Gymnastics Beat! I worked out some, taught, spotted, and conducted leveling assessments. Aside from the expected sore muscles, though, it was trouble free. And I really, really enjoyed it!

Now, very little of what I’ve stated thus far has anything to do with the title, right? Yeah, I kind of gathered that. I may be old and get easily side tracked, but I’m not senile. (I hope) Besides the early retirements and the late resurrections of long dead ‘careers’, here is where the “accelerated life” comes into play.

Forty months ago, my household consisted of my wife…. And myself! (We’ll overlook the fish for the moment.) Fast forward 4 months, though, and we now had a 150lb boy and a cute little puppy with a funky name. This made for some really interesting times, but I do have a few warm fuzzy memories in spite of this period of dynamic learning.

Only 8 months later (28 months ago), the other shoe dropped. That was when we went up by 6 more kids and one more dog! Not only did that make for SEVEN children, but four of them were also already Teenagers! (and nary a diaper changed had I!) One is autistic/low functioning and requires a lot of energy as he is not self-automated. This was the beginning of the period that I call ‘shock and awe’, because I was perpetually in shock. And any time anybody asked me a question, all I could say was, “Aaaaaaaaw. (pbbbt)”

By the time December of that year came around, or 20 months ago, we were fully rounded out to our current complement of three ‘parents,’ seven kids, and THREE dogs! It’s all ho hum and status quo from then on, right? Well, not really. At present, I am still close to the experience of watching my father pass away. Never mind that he was fit, healthy, and loving life at the ripe age of 64 years young, he went away so quickly! And here I am, now with SIX teenagers and THREE college students!! Nobody is even in Elementary school anymore.

Today marked yet another new phase in life; one of me playing the part of an empt(ier) nester. James went off and left home to go to college out-of-state this morning. He is one of the few subtractions in a period of rapid additions. And, like losing my Dad, I’m beginning to really dislike these ‘subtractions’ from my life. … True, my boy will still be around from time to time, but this marks the beginning of yet another trend of inevitable shift; one where life will be punctuated by subtractions rather than additions. The result: Something is missing, and it just doesn’t feel right.

But I’m going to have to get used to the idea, and quickly, too. It cannot be changed, only accepted. (if never embraced). Such is my lot in this ACCELERATED LIFE.

Not the Leader Anymore (But I got to Hire my new Boss!)

I fired myself and got a new boss last night, but at least I was able to choose and hire him! Being the Pathfinder Club Directors over the past five years was an amazing blessing, but it was time to hand it off to someone new because we ran ourselves all out of energy. The board meeting made it official. I didn’t even have to make a fancy and well-worded presentation on the spot. All I had to do was sit and listen as the board chairman read my letter of resignation. (Which, of course, was fancy and well worded! At least, being articulate is what I attempted)

The letter ended with me thanking the board for the opportunity to serve, and asked them to accept our resignation. This they did, ‘with regret.’ In fact, they made it a point to make the “with regret” part official in the minutes. Several people were visibly upset with this turn of events, but it couldn’t really be helped. It was time to close that door, at least for now. And I am finally okay with it.

But now, I’m yesterday’s news. Here’s a little about my new boss. The really rewarding thing is that I discovered him! Well, actually Keith discovered us, so I can’t take any credit. (sounded good, though) We marched by him one November 11 during the city’s Veteran’s Day Parade. It was the first time we’d invited all of the area clubs to take part with us, and I had coordinated an estimated 250 Pathfinders, Adventurers, and staff. They were assembled in multiple marching formations and pulled by two flat bed trucks. It was pretty awesome to see, and I always wonder if he would have noticed us if it had just been our own club by itself. Perhaps not, but God works in interesting ways sometimes, so we’re left to wonder.

Anyway, he tracked us down through an old acquaintance and showed up at the clubhouse soon after the parade because it seemed like just the thing he wanted to get his daughter into. An ex Eagle Scout Troop Master, he almost immediately found needs and started to fill them. He increasingly became a big help with the Adventurer program, which his daughter was in. He eventually followed her into the Pathfinder club, and in his quiet and unassuming way, became an integral part of the overall Club.

Today, he is a member of my church and a leader in the Junior division. His daughter attends the academy and has developed some great friendships there. And now, Keith is also the (so called) fearless leader of the Pathfinder and Adventurer Club! I know that huge challenges face him in the months ahead, and I can relate to how he must be feeling. But regardless of how smoothly or bumpily things go, I have to say that I’m very proud of him for stepping forward. Here’s to you, Keith!

Anniversary

Hooray, it’s my Anniversary! A year ago this evening, I was having the time of my life at the gymnastics gym with James, putting him through the paces while easing back into it myself. It felt good. No, it felt great. At session’s end, I demonstrated a round-off the way round-offs are supposed to be done; aggressively!

Now, when you think about it, you will probably wonder how one can reconcile putting words like ‘ease’ and ‘aggressive’ in the same breath. In point of fact, you cannot! And that’s exactly what my body told me when I did it. “YOU CANNOT!” My right Achilles tendon snapped to drive the message home, and a year later, I can assure you that I got the message. A week immobile followed by surgery and months of ‘very poor jogging’ has conspired to convince me that I am no longer 18 years old. This seems like such a waste because I kind of knew that already, but there you have it. At the same time, life’s experiences can sometimes be used to learn lessons that at first blush do not appear to be directly associated.

Forever, it seemed, I could not stand on my own two feet. Undeniably, I needed to rely on the help of others, but I stubbornly did as much as I could on my own so as to not be a burden. This made life painfully slow at times, and no doubt in some cases just caused more grief. Looking back, I can see this more clearly. But at the time, I just didn’t see it that way.

That can also sum up much of my life. Looking around, it’s easy to see that this world isn’t a pretty place. It’s tough and full of huge challenges. On my own, I can’t exactly dance deftly across the stage of life. In fact, when I’m not relying completely on God’s power and mercy, I am immobile. You could say that I cannot stand on my own two feet. Undeniably, I need to rely on my Creator and follow His will for my life. However, I stubbornly do as much as I can on my own, presumably so as not to be a burden. This makes my Spiritual growth painfully slow, and ultimately has been the source of no end of grief. Reflecting on how God’s power and mercy has so strongly impacted my life, I can see this clearly. But when relying on my own eyesight and insight, I never can seem to see it that way.

The solution is pretty clear. I need to seek a better relationship with God aggressively and completely. And yet I tend to try to ease into it a little bit at a time. When you think about it, you probably wonder how you can reconcile putting words like ‘aggressive’ and ‘ease’ in the same breath. Well, in point of fact, you cannot.

That’s the message God gives to me in His word and through the experiences and challenges I’ve faced in my life. “You cannot.” I hope that I am able to hold onto the message.

Turning Points

8/24/07 - I've spent a good deal of time debating whether or not to post this particular entry, for reasons that are probably self evident. We're going to go for it & see what happens.
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There come times in everyone’s lives when they step back from what they’ve been doing, or how they have been living, and ponder therein the purpose and merits of it all. I am currently going through just such an experience. To those of you who know me well, this is probably not news as it’s hardly a first for me. However, this does have substance to it.

My life took a 180 degree turn five years ago with the decision to stop focusing only on myself and begin to sacrifice my time and energy for the benefit of other people. Directing a Pathfinder club is not for the faint of heart, let me tell you. But it does afford a huge opportunity for one to learn about oneself, and the potential impact on the lives of countless kids and their families is almost limitless.

We’ve worked with a lot of kids, taught them interesting and unique new skills, and driven them thousands of miles to experience numerous things that some of them had never previously experienced. From spelunking, to bike camping, to the International Pathfinder Camporee in Oshkosh, WI., we’ve invested thousands of personal hours and dollars on other peoples’ kids. So engaged were we in the process that we even took seven as our own when the need arose and no one else was able or willing to step up to the plate. (That was two years ago) So… suffice to say that it’s been immersive and all encompassing. I have a deep appreciation for how much these experiences have caused me to grow personally, and my memories are rich and numerous. To write about all of them would easily fill a book.

At the same time, Pathfinders and the resulting family, combined with other factors, have taken a collective toll on me that is difficult to measure. I’m drained, spent. My passion and energy has waned significantly, and the results have been clear in my effectiveness as a leader. Perhaps it was the realization that I’d just cancelled another Pathfinder event for the umpteenth time, but for quite some time, I have known that I’ve been doing everyone (including myself) a disservice by staying on. Blame can be pointed all over the place (an unresponsive/unsupportive church, no really close friendships, challenging/strained home life, not taking proper care of myself), but the responsibility ultimately lies with me and my all-too-human tendency of trying to go it alone instead of relying on God’s power and guidance. … It is what it is.

On Monday, I conducted my last Pathfinder Club meeting… And I didn’t even know it until I looked at the freshly modified Calendar that had been sent with me. No last meeting, no investiture service where I could share some last profound thought that might stay with even one of them; Just this last ‘party’, replete with pizza, ice cream, and a decided lack of structure. Not exactly the setting I would have envisioned or wanted for a farewell if I’d had a choice.

The hardest part, though, was that I was all alone. Even my wife didn’t accompany me. I did my best to mingle with the kids and staff, but except for when I carried little Isaiah around upside down and heard him squealing with excitement, I felt hollow. They laughed, ran around, and carried on as always, but I couldn’t. No one seemed to notice my lack of enthusiasm, or if they did, no one said anything. When the last of them had left and I made sure everything was locked up, I knew I was finished.

So, I went home. On the way, my girl asked a rather perceptive question. “Is there going to be Pathfinders next year?” The only question along those lines all night. I assured her that there would be a program. But I also know that she was asking because she doesn’t want to continue next year, and as such, the question hurt as much as the silence. … I tried to get lost in the regular bedtime routine with the kids, but couldn’t. I wanted to talk to someone, but couldn’t. Even hugging Tom and telling him goodnight didn’t make me feel any warmer.

It was a rather anti-climatic ending to one of the most involving aspects of my life for the past 5 years. There is a campout left to do, and I will try to make the most of it. But right now, it has me wondering. All of the time, energy, resources; the sacrifices, the growth, the caring. Did any of it matter? Are people just limitless sponges who soak up all that you can give them until you run dry, yet never spill a drop of it to others when it’s needed? Has my life been wasted?

Tuesday, I had the occasion to view several hundred pictures of the kids from the past few years. There have been a lot of them, and through the tapestry of the photo folders, I was able to watch them grow up all over again. There have been some very positive changes in some of them that appeared to have been because of their involvement with the club, and I felt glad. Some fell through our fingers because we did not have the individual or collective ability to reach out to them, and I still feel the loss of each and every one of them. Still others, be they involved now or formerly… it’s hard to say what will become of them because the future is still unclear. I have to trust that any seeds that we attempted or helped to plant, God will continue to work on germinating in their lives (That isn’t my job, after all). There have been countless good memories along the way. But in the end, I hope that I will be able to take with me more than just the memories.

Papa - His Life

This is the text of the life sketch/eulogy that my brother and I presented for our dad at his memorial on April 7. I did the writing, he did the pictoral life sketch that was shown before and after the service, and then we helped each other pull it off.
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R W G

February 10, 1943 to April 1, 2007

Ronald W G was born to William and Hilda on February 10, 1943, in Vancouver General Hospital. He was their third and final child, and his older sisters enjoyed helping to raise and take care of this new arrival. His first home was in Ladner, BC.

However, the family moved to the (relatively) big city of Langley just prior to Ronnie’s fifth birthday. It was here that he achieved such accomplishments as enrolling in Langley Junior Academy and underwent the mildly corrupting experience of spending time with lifelong friends such as Gerald Berden.

Ron’s family moved once again when they made like islanders and moved to Sidney in 1952. There, his mother was employed at the hospital at Rest Haven. One of his memories during this time which started when he was nine years old was of rowing around the bay in a dilapidated old rowboat that had a disconcerting habit of taking on water. But when you’re a kid, those sort of details matter only somewhat very little (and mostly not at all).

Ron found himself at Canadian Union College for high school, which was quite a long way from home. The winters were colder and longer here, but his parents felt it was important for him to receive the opportunities that education brought; opportunities neither of them had.

From the time he was small, Ron’s Father told him, “Son, when you grow up, choose a career where you can be your own boss. It is hard to not have a trade and have to work for other people your whole life. He took this to heart, and in part because he liked to work with his hands, he decided on a career in Dentistry fairly early on.

So, after graduating from high school at CUC in 1961, he completed one year of college there before moving on for a three-year stint at Walla Walla College in Washington of the Excited States. It was here that he met a rather intriguing maiden from Oregon by the name of Janet W.

Interestingly, Ron and Jan met in a Marriage and Family class! Both signed up for this particular class for ‘extra credit’. The crusty old professor had the enrollees arranged in seats by alphabetical order, and W must have been the letter furthest along the line. But Ron had enrolled for the class a day LATE, so the second lecture was already in session when he arrived. Thus it was that shy Mr. “G” was placed next to shy Miss “W”. Since he did not wish to be unsuccessful, he asked Janet if he had missed anything important the first day. In truth, he had missed out on some terminology that Janet was a bit embarrassed to share with this strikingly handsome lad. Hoping the professor would cover it again later in class, she said, “Naaa, nothing important.” So it was that they came to be stuck next to each other. Weeks later during the final examination, Ron leaned over toward Jan and said, “So, I DID miss some things the first day, eh?” But the ice had already been broken and the damage done.

Ron married Janet in Gaston, Oregon on June 13, 1965, at which time they moved to Loma Linda, CA for four years. There, Ron earned a DDS (Doctor of Dental Science) as a member of the class of ‘69, while Janet taught First graders in nearby Colton and earned a PHT (Putting Hubby Through). On weekends, they would escape the high quality air for the high desert, where Ron continued to work on his hobby of photography.

When the smoke finally cleared (as much as it ever does in Loma Linda), Dr. G. resettled in his Home and native Land. The decision to come home was not made lightly; it was Ron and Janet’s hope to raise a family, and they wished to be near to an Adventist School so that they could offer any upcoming children a Christian Education without having to go off to a boarding school while still young. They settled down, and he got to the business of establishing his Dental practice in Langley.

But… no children! They were ready to become parents, but the stork had been stubborn about arriving. Finally, in January of 1970, they were blessed with the adoption of their first child, a girl they named Larissa R. She brought a lot of joy, but there was still much room for more in the home. Brenden S. arrived in August of 1972, a little codger not yet one year old. The family was rounded out and completed in November of 1973 with the arrival of the caboose, when Shelby D. was born to Ron and Janet. From day one, it was no secret to Larissa and Brenden that they were adopted. Rather, they grew up with a profound sense that they were very much loved and had been “chosen” by their parents.

Ron enjoyed adventures of travel and the great outdoors. He rode motorcycles off-road, canoed many lakes and rivers, and explored hard to reach areas for hidden gems like natural hot springs or beautiful views. He loved the ocean and water sports, and many family vacations were spent waterskiing and wind surfing. Snow skiing was a favorite winter activity. Ron was of the opinion that these things were far too enjoyable to be kept exclusive, so often other relatives or friends were brought along to share in the fun. Time and again, he proved to be an expert and patient teacher as he taught his children, as well as many of their friends, the “ropes”.

It was not all fun and games, however. Ron was very disciplined in life’s endeavors. He took good care of himself by keeping a high level of physical fitness and maintained a dedicated and close walk with Jesus. When we kids were growing up, we could count on our Dad being the first to get up. If we were adventuresome, we could creep to the other side of the house to see the light coming from under the door to the study. And when we would peek in, he was always either studying intently or down on his knees… no doubt praying earnestly for guidance in raising the little hellions God ‘blessed’ him with. Then, he would go jogging!

Service to church and family was an integral part of Ron’s life. His family was one that helped to found and build the Aldergrove Seventh-day Adventist Church. He served the church in the capacities of Deacon, Elder, sound technician, and spent many years as the Aldergrove church clerk. He also opened his house numerous times for Friday evening Youth vespers programs. Additionally, when there was a void, he stepped into what he considered a very out of character role as Pathfinder Director. Yet in the six years he served with Janet in this role, the club grew from less than a dozen kids to the largest and one of the most active in the conference, with nearly 40 members. In making sure HIS children received this opportunity, he also mentored many others in the process.

For thirty-four years, Ron ‘practiced’ Dentistry. He took pride in his work and did quite well. One person within the profession even claimed that his acrylic restorations were the best she’d ever seen. But, the work was not an all-consuming passion for him. This, he saved for his family. It was a means to an end, a way of providing for his loved ones. Fortunately, for much of his career he was surrounded by staff members, some of whom spent a very long time with him, who did an excellent job of easing the stress of the routine and keeping him sane. This, he appreciated greatly …

But eventually, he decided it was time to start a new career to practice at, called RETIREMENT! In his eagerness to start on this new adventure, Ron made the move a bit earlier than originally planned. And he loved every minute of it! Friends, family, and former colleagues can attest to this based upon the permanent grin that was affixed to his face. He traveled, he relaxed, he visited the grandkids! (but he did not relax while visiting the grandkids). More times than one could count, he was heard saying, “Life is good!”

Then, the troubles began. This past December, Ron came down with flu-like symptoms with significant bone pain. This seemed to be backing off, so he moved forward. But on his trip to Thailand, which he spent over a year planning for, he was hospitalized and diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. It took two weeks to stabilize his blood counts and arrange for him to be transported home, but he and Janet were blessed by many incredibly kind and generous strangers, as well as by a couple of friends.

Ron appeared to respond well to treatment initially. He was greatly encouraged by the support he received from friends and family. But the leukemia returned, and on March 21^st, he was informed of the medically irreversible results of the disease process. He was anointed, and thousands of prayers were offered on his behalf literally from all over the world. However, God, who knows the beginning from the end, saw fit to not intervene. Ron did not once complain. At home, with his whole family present, he passed quietly to his rest on Sunday morning, April 1^st.

Ronald W. G. is survived by his wife, Janet; his two sisters, Dolores and Rita; as well as his three children, Larissa, Brenden, and Shelby. Additionally, he leaves behind 10 grandchildren: Kendra, Byron, Zachary. And Michael, James, John, Tom, Mai Ying, Maivnkauj, and Na… all of whom were chosen much like their Grandpa chose his kids. Oh, and by a big family, a big church family, and many good friends.

¿Qué Pasa?

The schools I work at are rather diverse because the neighborhoods they serve contain a large mix of ethnicities ranging from Hispanic, to African American, to Asian. There are even a few of us pale types of European ancestry kicking around, and the number of primary languages spoken in the school district numbered 101 at last count. To be honest, though, I rarely give this sort of thing much thought, and I don’t think most people around here do, either. We’re all, quite simply, just part of the landscape that makes this area what it is. However, my view of how I am perceived here received something of a jolt today. Literally!

I was walking down the hallway after hours. As is often the case, a commotion was emanating from the cafeteria as the after school program was in full swing. I was passing by the opened doors when my peripheral vision detected, too late, a small blur of movement heading in my general direction. One of the runners rammed straight into me and bounced backward from the impact. Her friend narrowly dodged the falling body but tripped over her, and I had the presence of mind to catch her before she wiped out as well. While the rammer appeared momentarily bewildered, her rescued compatriot looked instantly ‘busted’ for having been caught running on campus by a grownup.

I looked down and saw, clearly, two little Hmong girls (very cute), perhaps second or third graders. From their perspective, they were peering back up at a blondish, marshmallow-shaped white guy (impeccably dressed, of course). One stepped back as the other rose warily to her feet and dusted herself off before gazing back up and me with wide eyes. The whole thing lasted less than 5 seconds, and before I could utter a word, they broke the silence in unison. “HOLA!”

What the… I don’t look the least bit Hispanic, and they thought I spoke Spanish!? I was stunned. Then they were off at the same breakneck pace as before, no doubt trying to put good distance between us so I wouldn’t have a chance to scold them about running at school. I recovered from the shock. “Nyob zoo!” I called after them just as they were rounding the corner.

Nothing but a single head popped back around the corner… horizontally! The girl wore an expression of open mouthed shock as she looked me over once again. Re-assessment result: A blondish, marshmallow-shaped white guy (impeccably dressed)… who speaks Hmong!!?? She shared with me a huge grin that lit up her whole face. Then her head once again disappeared from sight. Poof! I guess it’s true: We never are what we appear at first glance (or first collision).

Blame...

If you are not a close family member, you may mark this day as the one on which my wife was to blame for your being able to read this blog! Until now, I was very careful to ensure privacy and count on the safety of family loving me 'anyway' to be able to stand what I've written...

Well, upon spending considerable time reading blogs from old acquaintances over the weekend, she informed me that I had nothing to fear. Her words were something to the effect of, "Honey, why are you being so secretive and hiding your blog from the public? Now that I've read what's out there, you have NOTHING to worry about. Your stuff is so boring, nobody's gonna read it anyway." So, there you have it. Enjoy! :)