My Li'l Lady

Here's a piece I did for my daughter during the Ozarks Writing Project Summer Institute in June. It's one of my favorite pieces I did, but I hadn't shared it here because you really have to see her dancing to believe it. As luck would have it, my wife caught a pretty good sampling of her dance moves yesterday in the kitchen, and these moves were too good not to be shared.



Tiny Dancer

Little gal, you had me at hello. You came into this world and put the stranglehold on your father's heart before you or he even knew what had happened. Perhaps it is more fitting to say that you became part of my heart, inseparable and imperative. I know this because when I heard you whimper or cry in the night those first few months, I was up and ready to do whatever it took to reassure you that you were cared for and loved.

Time has flown since your infant days, and it grows more evident each passing day that you are mine and I am undoubtedly yours. No longer a baby, you're now a three-year-old, long-haired fairy with feisty opinions on fashion and an insatiable appetite for all things princess-related. Still, despite the overabundance of pink clothes and Tinkerbell paraphernalia, you gladly oblige your dada by returning my "M-I-Z" with the proper "Z-O-U," giving life to my slim hopes that, like your precious jewel of a mother, you'll care about football.

But that's about me, isn't it? Can I tell you, little lady, the things you do that I love most?

I love when you cock your head, bat your eyes, and melt my heart with your full-toothed grins. I love when you bull your way up onto my lap, forcing your brothers aside and claiming me as your own. I love when you instruct me on how a lady sits and ask me to follow your lead. I love when you ask for a stuffed animal before bed...and then another...and then another...and then ten more so that you're eventually sleeping with a plush zoo.

But here's what I love most. Sometimes you dance. And, trust me, your dancing is like nothing I've ever seen. Your movements are an eclectic mix: one cup Charleston, a dash of Mambo, a pinch of Ballet, a dollop or so of what the kids call the Stanky Leg for pizzazz, and a hearty measure of epileptic seizure...the perfect recipe. You gyrate, flail, spin until dizziness nearly brings you to the floor, and occasionally call to mind the Seinfeld episode where Elaine dances at the wedding (you don't get that allusion now, but we'll watch reruns).

The best part, though, comes in the middle. You typically close your eyes while dancing, but inevitably, you will pause, turn towards me, and, as if only to warm my heart, gaze back at me with an approval-seeking grin. And I want so badly for you to know that I do approve. I passionately and wholeheartedly approve of you in every way imaginable.

The truth is, sweetheart, that your dad has a Father, too, and I only wish I could dance recklessly about with my eyes closed, only opening them to check for Fatherly approval. Sadly, I spend too much time scared of what I might not see if I closed my eyes. Eyes wide open, I fearfully scan the room to gauge the disapproval my measured steps are receiving from the wallflowers who don't even have the guts to look a young girl in the eyes at the punch bowl and too cool to step on the dance floor. I'm nothing like you; you who is without pretense and has no knowledge of posturing.

I have a lot to learn from you, princess.

You're too young to make a promise, but I want you to make it anyway. Promise me you'll keep dancing. When you find out the world can be a scary place, dance. When you find out that friends are only human, dance. When people try to tell you your self-worth is determined by their asinine judgements, dance. When some young boy breaks your heart (likely causing me to do something that will offer me opportunity to start a prison ministry from the inside), just keep dancing. And if, for a moment, you open those big, beautiful brown eyes, promise that you'll glance at me for approval because God knows I approve of you; completely and without reservation.

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A Conflicted Fan...

I love collegiate sports. I love the way fall Saturdays are consumed with more college football than a person can possibly take in. I love how in March, college basketball basically walks in like it owns the network television schedule. Though I'm not naturally the biggest baseball/softball fan, I'll gladly take in a game if my team, the Missouri Tigers, are involved. There's no better way to say it than to sipmly say this: College sports are awesome.


However, this morning, I ran across an article by Pat Forde on Yahoo Sports that once again stirred up an ongoing conflict I have as a sports fan.

In the article, Forde mentions the new facilities being built at the University of Oregon for the Ducks' football program. Forde writes:

"Oregon is dumping $68 million of Nike kingpin Phil Knight's money into a new 'football operations center.' Among the accoutrements you get for $68 mil, the Eugene Register-Guard reported, is a private hot tub and steam room for the coaches, 'each with a waterproofed video center . . . so they can watch video while taking a soak.'"

The money being used here, as I understand it, is primarily donor money, and I certainly don't think it my place to tell the head honcho of Nike how the recipients of his cash should use it. They can use that money for whatever purpose they mutually agree on.

Still, I can't help but wonder if this is just another symptom of what's wrong with college athletics, specifically in the world of football. It's hard, if not impossible, not to admit that college sports, as we know them, have gotten fiscally out of control.

A few stats of note:

• Urban Meyer, Ohio State football coach, will make $24 million over the next six years (that's guaranteed money, not including any bonus cash).
• In addition to all the other details of Penn State's mess, they now must also pay roughly $4.5 million in severance to assistant coaches fired when the new head coach came in and cleaned house.
• The University of Florida's athletic department's expenditures run in the neighborhood of $113 million.

These stats are just a sampling of the ridiculous amounts of money that universities have to shell out to have prominent athletic programs. Still, these teams I noted are just the "big boys," right? Surely it's only the top tier who spends this kind of money? True, but there's a developing trend in sports where smaller Division-1 FBS programs are trying to live like those at the top of the food chain.

When these smaller programs try to live as if they're the University of Texas or Alabama, the university is left to pick up the hefty price tag of their pursuits of prominence. Adam Weissman of The Atlantic reports that in 2010, only 22 of all FBS athletic programs turned a profit. He also reports that of the 120 FBS football programs, 51 were "in the red" with a median loss of almost $3 million. Where does money come from to cover that kind of cost? As an educator, I'm scared to ponder that question.

All of these figures, along with scandals like the one at Penn State or the USC/Reggie Bush debacle, are the worst aspect of the sports I love. I know that these kind of facts force me to face important truths, but as such a college sports nut, it's just far less than enjoyable to think about the fact that collegiate sports, at its core, is just another big business.

I don't want to watch a game knowing that it's all about cash. I want to believe that the triumphant moments I've watched such as Christian Laettner's buzzer-beater, Vince Young's single-handed takeover of the BCS championship game, or Boise State's stunning takedown of powerhouse Oklahoma were about the thrill of competition, the will to win, the drive to be the best...not about the almighty dollar. But, perhaps there's no room for such idealism in the market-driven world of college sports.

(From The Wall Street Journal back in 2007)

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Rams

A lot of Facebook folks commented on the album I put up containing pictures of our oldest son, Ramsey.  I posted those so I could access them for a photo essay project I needed to work on today in class at MSU.  In all honesty, I just chose random photos of him because I figured I could make something meaningful from them.  However, after I put together a first draft, I didn't really feel like I'd crafted a meaningful piece.  I settled on something by the afternoon, but couldn't help myself; I had to go back and do it again.  And I'm glad I did.  I think the final product says what I wanted (and needed) to say about my son.  He's amazing, and I don't want to ever be the dad who just thinks that is an understood truth.  I want him to know that I think the world of him and that I may actually be learning more from him than he will from me.  I'm no pro when it comes to photographic video editing, but I think this says what I wanted to say.

Silence is Golden

Proverbs 17:28

  "Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent,
  and discerning if they hold their tongues."

Maybe I'll keep my mouth shut today. Unlikely, but a guy can dream.

Sometimes It's Best to Be On the Fence

In class this morning, we had a brief discussion regarding human attachment to objects, specifically books. I honestly feel like I'm in an odd spot between the two trains of thought I heard in the conversation. Some feel that with the advent of technology, we'll begin to see an overall decline in the attachment people have to physical copies of books. Others maintained that such attachment will always exist, that we'll always have some level of desire to actually hold the pages of a text in our hands.

As for myself, I just don't know. Because of that, I felt it wise not to jump in and pretend I knew the answer. Here are the things I do know, though.

I know that I love physical copies of books. I purchase them even when I know I'll probably never have time to read them. I don't discard books unless they are truly awful or outdated (MySpace For Dummies, perhaps?). This is probably just vanity, but I like the fact that people can't go anywhere in my house without seeing a stack or shelf of books; maybe they actually believe I've read them all.

Still, I also know that I don't have any problems with texts going digital. In many ways, it simply makes texts more managable, efficient, and productive. For example, I love the fact that books I read on my iPad can contain clickable hyperlinks or charts/images I can enlarge. I love that I can highlight without bleeding through a physical page. I love that I can more easily navigate a digital text and share meaningful passages through Twittter with only a few swipes on a digital device.

Ultimately, I feel as though I'm just dwelling somewhere in between two worlds. And I think that's okay; actually, I think that's ideal.

I will never stop preaching to my kids that physical books are treasured possessions; I'll never stop appreciating the confused looks they give me when I tell them I love the smell of a good book. On the other hand, I can also tap into the expanded capabilities a digital text offers and reassure my students that I'm not technologically outdated/illiterate. If that makes me some manner of "hybrid" teacher, I think that's a good thing.

Whether or not physical books are important and valuable for future generations of students remains to be seen. Still, even if having a tangible copy of a book becomes an archaic and rare practice, I know I can rely on something I learned long ago from Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451: books, on their own, don't really matter. What matters are the ideas held within books, and ideas will always be important no matter if they are read off of tattered paper or the screen of an iPad.

I'd love to hear other thoughts on this subject. Will we see the tangible text become a thing of the past? If so, is that a social tragedy or just an English teacher's nightmare?

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Love Fam Road Trip #1: A Success

On July 3rd, I finished a graduate workshop, drove home, and hopped in a car for the first official Love family long-distance road trip. Kelly and I have taken shorter excursions with the kids, 3-5 hour trips at most, but have never attempted a trip that would require us to stop for the night and continue on the next day. When our kids were all under four, even driving to Springfield was an adventure, so we were pretty impressed when we could make it more than an hour away from home. Now that our kids are getting a bit older and are better able to handle long rides, we figured it was time to give the family road trip a try, so off we went.

My aunt lives in Santa Fe and has been begging for some time that Kelly and I would bring the kids out for a vacation. The trip finally fit into our schedule, so we sandwiched it in between grad work and football camps and lit out for New Mexcio.


We couldn't have imagined a better vacation. We had no agenda or plan, plenty of time to spend in Santa Fe, a great place to stay, and the two coolest hosts (Aunt Linda and Uncle Andy) a person could hope for. We relaxed, ate, hiked, explored, took in some live music, read, strolled through art galleries, and watched movies; the best part was that we did all this in what I'd consider perfect weather (love those mountain climates).

Here are a few snapshots:

The boys at Bandelier National Park near Los Alamos.

While hiking at Bandelier, a guy who was about 50 yards ahead of me started frantically yelling at me to get my kids back away from something. Confused, I did what he said. I then realized Jett and Ramsey had been about 5-10 yards away from a really big rattlesnake. Two days later, my heart rate returned to normal.

The kids had a great time climbing into the Indian cliff dwellings. I'm pretty sure that every time they went to climb ladders like this one (which went five to ten feet off the ground), I heard other folks on the trail saying, "I wouldn't let my kids do that." Each time, my inner monologue replied, "Yeah, and that's why your kids hate going on vacation with you." Thank you, Lord, for granting me a filter.

When kids begin to wear you out on vacation, take them to a Catholic church with a labyrinth path outside (as seen above). They will immediately begin running...and running...and running. This, later in the evening, will translate into fussing, then crying, then sleeping...and sleeping...and sleeping.

Typical Love kids...Parker's posing, Ramsey's not paying attention, and Jett's just being himself, a ten-foot tall deer-like shaman.

Albequerque has a really cool aquarium, so Jett took full advantage of it. They had a spot where visitors could pet stingrays, and our fearless li'l guy was all over it. He and this particular stingray quickly became pals.

Just adjacent to the aquarium is a pretty cool botanical garden. The kids weren't too pumped about most of the gardens, so to liven things up, I got Jett to pose for a picture where it would appear I was tossing him into this prickly pear cactus. It seemed hilarious then, but now it just looks like this is the type of thing that could spur a call to DFS, right?

We took an afternoon and headed up to the aspen forests in the mountains around Santa Fe, and it was BEAUTIFUL. It was also an arid 75 degrees at that elevation, so we took our time before heading down. Sidenote: my wife is hot.

We rolled back into Bolivar last Friday and are just now getting back into the swing of things here, but I'm already looking forward to Love Fam Road Trip #2. As long as the DVD player in the van is still operational then, I can't imagine our second trip being any less successful than the first!



One last pic of my road warrior kiddos!!!

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Rockomendations, Summer Edition

Here are the tunes that are soundtracking my summer. Enjoy!

Something Old: I'm Waitin' For the Day by The Beach Boys

It's not like there can be anything said about Pet Sounds that hasn't been said before...it's amazing. With Pet Sounds, Brian Wilson orchestrated an American masterpiece. This tune is probably my favorite on the album because it's great for summer driving, but so are Sloop John B and That's Not Me...and every other song on the album.

Something New: Uncaged by Zac Brown Band

In all honesty,the last Zac Brown Band album (You Get What You Give) didn't do much for me. Colder Weather was a great country ballad, but I didn't care for the Jimmy Buffet collaboration they released as the first single and the rest of the album just wasn't all that great, IMO. Thus far, the new album seems to be pretty redeeming, though I only got it this morning. I heard the title track, Uncaged, a few weeks back on a live CMT performance, and it's been on permanent loop in my head ever since. Great summer rocker from a great band.


Something Borrowed: Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Andy McKee (originally Tears For Fears)

The original tune is one of my favorite songs ever; it's yet another great song for relaxing and enjoying a summer drive. Andy McKee is just an all-around stud solo musician, and his stylings give a fresh, new feel to what's already a great song.

Something Blue(s-based): Hold On by Alabama Shakes

Earlier in the year, I went ahead and declared Alabama Shakes' album Boys and Girls the best album of the year. Now halfway through 2012, I'm sticking by that call. Raw production, eclectic style, amazing frontwoman, and a great record front-to-back. If you haven't heard it yet, do yourself a favor and go get it...now...don't worry; I'll wait.



You're back? Good. Hope you enjoy the recommendations!

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My Childhood is Rekindled

As a young child, I loved reading. I am one of a small number of people who ever asked for a dictionary for Christmas (and I got it, too).

And though I did love books, one of my favorite forms of literature when I was young was the comic strip. I consumed The Wizard of Id, The Far Side, B.C. and other newspaper comics with religious fervency. I might add, though, that I stuck to humorous strips; The Family Circus was lame and Ranger Rick was too preachy for my youthful sensibilities.

One strip stood out above all of these, though: Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes.

This was by far my favorite comic strip, and it still is all these years later. How could a kid not love reading about the adventures (and misadventures) of a verbose, quick-witted rebel and his faithful (and sometimes brutally honest) sidekick, a stuffed tiger named after a 17th-century philosopher? Okay, maybe I was an odd kid.

In grade school, whenever the teacher passed out book order forms, I would immediately tear through it looking for books of Calvin and Hobbes strips. Thankfully, my parents were kind enough to oblige my obsession. I still have those books, which currently reside in my classroom, and I break them out whenever I'm starting to feel old and crusty. Reading the tales of Calvin's numerous alter egos (Spaceman Spiff, Stupendous Man, etc.) is the perfect remedy for premature aging.

Thus you can understand the excitement that overtook me last night when I found out that there is a Calvin and Hobbes documentary in the works. Apparently the Kickstarter campaign to get this film off the ground has more than surpassed its goal of $50,000, so it appears that it's definitely going to happen. Here's the kickstarter promo vid:

It may sound silly to others, but I really feel like this comic had a big impact on who I am today. My sense of humor and appreciation for sarcasm and wit probably stem largely from the hours I spent (and still spend) reading those strips and wishing I was the kid with the spiky-blond hair and the feline companion.

I'll leave off with one of my favorite strips from the series. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

BTW, I am still working on forgiving the fools who have, over the years, profaned this series with those heretical stickers of Calvin peeing on things. Yeah, I'm working on it...

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My Workout > Yours

This is where I worked out this morning (on a ridge top in Santa Fe, NM)

Pros:

• Temp. felt like a pleasant 75 degrees
• Cool mountain breeze blowing across the hilltop patio
• Indescribably beautiful scenery
• Short walk down the hill to the place we're staying

Cons:

• Altitude (higher elevation than Denver) = six-minute workout had me breathing like I'd just completed the Boston marathon at Kenyan speed.

Time to head back down the hill, shower, curl up on the couch, and get back to the Love family vacation (sans agenda, schedule, or sure date of departure).

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You know you teach writing when...

books like these arrive in the mail and you feel like Christmas has made an early arrival.