Celebrating the Ordinary

Yesterday was a pretty big day for Kelly and me as it marked a full decade gone by since Kelly Barnes agreed to become Kelly Love. Yes, yesterday was our ten-year wedding anniversary. This was most definitely an occasion to celebrate, especially in today's culture where marriage is too often a disposable arrangement rather than a sacred institution.

So did we celebrate in the romantic fashion most would expect? Oh, let me tell you about it.

To begin, I slogged out of bed groggily at 5:15 to study and make lunches for our three children. At roughly 6, I started to rouse the kids, none of whom had any interest in getting up. My wife then prepared a solid breakfast (eggs, bacon, fruit) for the whole brood; two complained about it and none of them finished their plates. That's just the beginning, though.

I had the day all planned out, of course, and we really got the romantic juices flowing as I took her to a place that's pretty meaningful to both of us, work. Yes, we both teach at the same high school, our classrooms situated down the hall from each other's next to both our respective genders' restrooms (how cute). As best I remember, my wife spent her day caring about her students' grades more than they did; I, meanwhile, admirably attempted to manage seniors who are, somewhat understandably, running low on motivation.

After work, we split up the duty of picking up our posse and met back at the house around 3:30, at which point we turned on some cartoons or something for the kids and both took power naps (romantic overload will wear a person out, right?). The next few hours were a blur of folding laundry, picking up things we'd just picked up that morning, grilling, bribing our kids with sugar to get them to eat healthy food, plunging the bathtub to clear a drain (which spurred an impromptu scrubbing of the entire shower), and playing a figurative game of "whack-a-mole" as we tried to get all three kids in bed at once and keep them there.

Eventually, Kelly and I managed to meet up at the couch and sit down to watch Trouble With the Curve, a movie that opens with the 176-year-old Clint Eastwood struggling to urinate (I know how to set the mood, folks). As I recall, it was a decent flick, but I have to admit that it was interrupted a few times by our daughter waking up crying; I also fell asleep for about twenty minutes somewhere just before the climax.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the romantic celebration of our tenth wedding anniversary.

It was perfect.

That sounds strange, right? There were no flowers. There was no babysitter. There was no intimate dinner at an expensive restaurant. There were none of the standard hallmarks of anniversary festivity. There was only us, three wild kids, a rough day at work, a semi-clean house, and a decent-but-not-amazing movie.

And I think that's the best way we could have celebrated because when we got married, here is what we covenanted to do together: real life. Though we were too young and immature to understand everything we were saying, when Kelly and I got married, we acknowledged that we knew everyday life could be sweeter if we lived it together rather than apart; thus, we made big-boy/big-girl promises that we would love each other not just in the mountaintop moments, but also in those that were mundane, subpar, or even tragic.

Thankfully, yesterday was not tragic or even subpar. It was a common day with common frustrations that come along with being a married, working couple with rambunctious little ones. And on a common day, with common frustrations, we loved each other well because by God's grace, we've learned that true covenant love built for the long haul isn't fueled solely by the kind of fickle romantic feelings espoused in Hollywood scripts; no, those feelings undoubtedly rise and fall like the changing tide. True covenant love is, as Shakespeare so brilliantly said, "an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken." True covenant love is unflappable and steadfast, regardless of whether it is celebrated with a fancy meal and fine wine or simply celebrated in the simplicity of a wife gently trying to keep her husband from nodding off during a movie because she, knowing him more intimately than anyone else, is aware that he might drool on her in his sleep. For better or worse, right?

 

 

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Bridges

This is Francka Bridge, a truss bridge just outside Bolivar that has been in use since the early 1900's. Until recently, I'd only been out to this spot in Polk County two or three times in the 14 years I've lived here, and in those instances, I'd merely been passing through; I'd never made it a point to stop. While there are folks who make bridge sightseeing a hobby, I'm certainly not one. Bridges, to me, have always been a means, never an end.

A few years back, some high school students lost control of their vehicle while crossing this bridge (the circumstances are different depending on where you get your story) and basically rendered it unsafe for traffic to cross any longer. You can see a bit of the damage near the center of the picture.

If I understand correctly, there were discussions about fixing the damage, but I'm pretty certain those talks have fizzled out. It's very costly to repair a bridge of this type, and on top of that, it is in an area that sees scarce traffic. Thus, here it sits, just as you see it, its planks old and rotting, some dangling below the surface toward the water below; a barrier--complete with shotgun-peppered sign---erected to make sure no one dares attempt an unwise crossing.

And it occurred to me on a recent trip out to truly observe this spot for the first time that this bridge, which when defined by function can no longer truly be called a bridge, is not unlike a relationship.

We are relational beings; we are designed and hardwired with the desire for connection. We thrive in community, but wither in isolation. Thus, we build relational bridges to span chasms and create ties. For me, initiating this is normally not a problem; it's second nature. Where there is separation, I long to see the gap eliminated through relationship. However, what I often forget is that once established, relationships require maintenance, investment of time and energy. Planks become old and weathered, structures become out of date, birthdays go unremembered, casual indifference replaces the intentionality of newness--time takes its toll. But proper maintenance is rarely, if ever, convenient, so apparent issues don't always get addressed; thus, disrepair sets in and traffic becomes scarce...or nonexistent.

And in the case of both bridges and relationships, accidents happen. Whether by a wreckless teenage joyride or a wreckless word, bridges and relationships can and will be tested. And if not well-kept, neither can survive. Once a poorly-maintained relationship has been gashed by insensitivity, impatience, neglect, or some other form of damaging occurrence, it's easy to just estimate the cost of repair (or even a total rebuild), balk at the heavy price tag of humility and reconciliation, and decide to throw up a barricade and walk away. We may even see fit to fire a few parting shots across the way as we leave, seen or unseen bullet-hole damage remaining as evidence of the parting.

And in this fashion, relationships are no longer relationships, but skeletons.

Likewise, bridges are no longer bridges, but monuments.

 

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My Friends...The Artists

I consider myself fortunate to have grown up where I did.  Raised in a rural area of central Missouri, I was afforded the opportunity to be schooled in a place where, for the most part, things operate according to the old Cheers cliche...everybody knows your name.  My high school alma mater sits among farmland, my hometown has one stoplight...it's rural.  Growing up, though, I never thought of this as being a bad thing. I didn't feel as though I was missing out on anything by not being in a more urban area. 

But somewhere along the line, I think I might have subconsciously bought into the false notion that the most creative among us, the artists/thinkers/makers, don't come from small towns.  I'm not sure why I did, but I kind of accepted in my early years of adulthood that the most bohemian of souls were products of urban culture, not Missouri farmland. 

And this has given opportunity for the rise of social media to be of honest benefit to me.  Over the last few years, Facebook, Twitter, and the like have helped me move past this erroneous idea that the rural man's artistry is somehow inferior to that of the city-dweller.  How has this happened?  Well, I've simply watched some of my Callaway County comrades blow the lid off such nonsense.

Here are four friends from my old stomping grounds who, over the years, have truly become artists of the highest caliber.  It's pretty awesome to stand off in the corner of the big room that is social media and see how art, the desire to explore, express, and to create, has become such a central part of each of their lives.  I've provided links to check out their work and hope that you'll spread the word.  They're all great folks, and more to the point, artists who remind me that top-notch creativity can and does come from the country.

1. Beth Snyder and Carrie Shryock, operators/partners @ One Canoe Two Letterpress

2. Zach Harrison, lead guitarist for The Hipnecks

3. Debra Broz, Ceramic Restorer @ Science of Art Restoration

• Online article from AustinPost.org HERE

Let's Get Lost

Last Saturday, my beloved Mizzou Tigers, reeling from a virtual no-show against Steve Spurrier and the Gamecocks, took on the University of Central Florida. Now, I've heard it from many folks that Mizzou is clearly not ready for the SEC, and to those folks who've been so kind as to tell me that, I say this: the UCF game showed we're barely ready for Conference USA, much less the SEC.

As I'd feared, the Tigers came out and had to grapple with a team that should not have been their equal. However, I'm trying to limit the effect sports have on my sanity by learning when to walk away. Thus, when my tigers began sputtering in the first half, I made the decision to simply leave the house before my mood deteriorated like Mizzou's offensive line under heavy pressure.

Getting into the car, I really had no idea where I was headed; my only requirement was that there be no television within eyeshot of my location. I headed north on Highway 32 toward Buffalo with no real destination, wondering where my drive might take me. Shortly after leaving I hit one of my favorite spots just outside of town. A few miles north of Bolivar, the road starts downhill, gently bending to the right, as the view to the left opens up to a large pasture butted up against a small creek and backed by tall bluffs. Just a few days earlier, a friend and I had been driving past this spot, prompting him to ask if I'd ever taken the road that headed off behind this particular area. I hadn't, but decided that today I would.

Taking that turn, I had no idea what I'd find, but I was stunned by the beautiful scenery I witnessed as I drove. Large expanses of green pasture; rustic, nostalgia-inducing barns; panoramic views of the Ozark's rolling hills; all such sights were a relief to a soul saddled with frustration over a football game that would, in reality, be soon forgotten. Unfortunately, I did have an engagement that forced me to cut my explorations short, so just as I began to sense I was getting into unfamiliar territory, I turned around, heading off to fulfill a Saturday obligation.

Not an hour later, the urge hit me. I had been just on the edge of knowing exactly where I was at. I had reached a point of unfamiliarity, of discovery, and had whipped it around and returned to the places I knew well.

It was at that point that I got back in my car and headed out with one goal in mind: I would get lost, regardless of how long it took me to do so...and I succeeded.

I went back to the original point of crisis at which I'd earlier turned back, but this time I didn't retreat; instead, I took the first turn that my mind desired...and then another...and then another. Eventually, I was just driving with no assurance that I was even heading in a direction that might lead me home, but the winding paths, unfamiliar views, deep green fields, and varied hues of the turning leaves gave me little reason to care where my journey might lead.

After roughly 45 minutes of meandering through parts of Polk county I never knew existed, I encountered a familiar landmark and took that as my cue to resume the day's necessary activities (which did not include finishing the game I'd long since abandoned).

This journey may seem like nothing more than "Sunday driving" done on the wrong day, but for me, it was a much-needed reboot. I'm by nature a creature of habit and not generally comfortable with environments outside those with which I'm extremely familiar. This one solitary drive through the country reminded me that we must live purposefully, but sometimes our purpose must be to get a bit lost; to discover; to find new and inspiring experiences; to live like Abraham, who under a command from God sans specific details, simply headed out into the great unknown with the faith that God wouldn't send him into the wilderness for no reason.

In the familiar, we often find the usual fare. In the unfamiliar, we put ourselves in a position to find unexpected treasures. Today, I was pleased to find the latter.

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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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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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Morning Reminder

This summer, I'm spending the bulk of my time racking up graduate hours in pursuit of master's degree #2. It's always daunting (and healthy) to step back in the role of student, but the course I'm currently enrolled in has probably yielded more professional growth in a week than any grad course I took during my first master's program.

 In this particular course, I've had the pleasure of being around some really fine folks I never would have run into otherwise. It's amazing that I find myself learning and growing, even being inspired, simply through proximity.

One person I've learned a great deal from already is a retired teacher named Colleen. I've learned much from her because in some ways, we are quite opposite.

To explain:

• I am quick to speak. She times her words perfectly. 
• I throw out words like candy on Halloween. She conserves hers, using them purposefully and precisely. 
• I ask pointed questions to push people in a direction. She asks thought-provoking questions that help other people to answer their own. 

But here's our biggest difference: I feel a constant need to assert myself in conversations. I interrupt, I correct, I hear but make little attempt to understand. She listens. Plain and simple. Perhaps this is the key reason that her feedback is always helpful, always purposeful, and always well-received (even if it's semi-corrective).

This morning, I read in Proverbs that "If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame." I'm fairly positive that my need to answer before listening has been my folly and shame more times and in more contexts (marriage, career, parenting,coaching,etc.) than I care to remember. I've probably offended and frustrated more students, players, parents, and friends than I realize by rushing to answer rather than actually listening deeply to them.

This is why I'm so thankful God puts people like Colleen in my path. Through such people, I'm learning that words often follow rules of supply and demand; flooding the market with them usually drives their value down, but spent wisely, they become precious commodities. I'm learning to listen, honestly listen, not just to what people are saying, but also to the feelings they're expressing. I'm learning to ask the deeper questions but to clarify understanding before doing so. I'm learning to sit and let others finish...the entire thought...they are expressing...rather than jumping in...and hijacking our interaction.

As I always say, I'm a work in progress...but arent' we all?

***Late addition: Colleen, if I've totally misrepresented you, feel free to scold me during coaching group.

Score...

Simple truths learned while at Barnes and Noble with no agenda and no time constraints:

• Being surrounded by books is always a good feeling. 
• Teen Paranormal Romance is a genre that now commands its own section? 
• Conversing with Bill Bryson would be sweet, but I'm certain I'd make a fool of myself if I ever got the chance to meet him.
• It's a surreal feeling to see the complete sonnets of William Shakespeare shelved so near to Snooki's autobiography. 
• I'm a fool for not purchasing the discount card. I buy books...lots of them. It would pay for itself quickly. 
• Buying a book is a good feeling even if you have no idea when (or if) you'll get around to reading it. 
• If it didn't cause more work for the employees, I'd always grab an Ann Coulter book and an Al Franken book and arrange them side-by-side in the Marriage section. 
• When I see that section for Manga, I always think of that Chris Kattan character, Mango, from his days on SNL. 
• Seeing awesome-looking personal journals just reminds me that my handwriting sucks. 
• I scored on two books both marked down to under $8. 

My Haul

The Mango

To the Sensible Anarchist:

To the vandal who engraved the anarchy symbol on the stall door at Target:
Bro, here are the things I respect about you...

• You honestly believe that in the absence of all order and establishment, you would survive and not inevitably be subjugated/enslaved by a far more abusive system than the one under which you currently eke out your meager existence.
• You have a nose for bargains.
• You are totally too good to find those bargains at a classless establishment like Wal-Mart.

Your convictions are inspiring. 

Quick Hitters 3.0

Quick Hitters on a crazy Wednesday...

1. Rolling around with the sunroof open and your music blaring is gangsta...especially when you're driving a minivan.
2. I'm so blessed to have such awesome men around me pouring into my life.  Not everyone has a Tony Brown, a Lou Harris, or an Ed Love in their life.  I count myself one lucky dude.
3. Leaving for Russia in two weeks and trusting God to take care of the million details between now and then.  After these next two weeks, a long flight over the ocean might be incredibly relaxing.
4. I fear no TSA employee.  If they want to see what's beneath my clothes, they're the ones who have to live with the unsettling memories.
5. Watching the Lakers unravel was painful.  I don't even like them and I felt horrible for Phil and the boys...until Bynum got confused and thought he was a defenseman for the Los Angeles Kings.  Simmer down, Andrew.
6. My boys are clearly training for a future season of "The Ultimate Fighter" behind me as I type this.
7. Pause...problem solved...back.
8. I avoided David Platt's Radical for six months because I was afraid of the challenges it might lay down.  Now wrapping it up and ready to take on some of those challenges. 
9. Great time chatting w/ my pastors Joshua Hedger and Dave Becker this afternoon.  So blessed to serve alongside dudes like that.  
10. Nothing gets me as cranked as the intro to "When the Levee Breaks."  Iconic drumbeat from Bonzo, Page's menacingly droning guitar riff, JPJ laying down the low notes, and Plant's signature vocals.  Altogether, song is best described as "testosterawesome".  I hope that word is original to me.

Bonus: Sweet video of Page (one of the few rock icons who doesn't dye his mop in old age) talking about recording @ Headley Grange and making note of the drums in "WTLB."

Effective Score: 8.9/100,000

For Your Weekend Entertainment...

Funny things from ye olde interwebs.

1. Darth Vader is Catholic

2. Yes, Lionel.  It IS you we are looking for.

3. Statistical evidence of Meat Loaf's claims.

4. Rest easy, fellow citizens.

5. Depressing.

Effective Score: 10/10

Back to Bayside...

As a kid, I was kind of a t.v. nut.  Not that I didn't get outside or anything, but I probably watched way too much of what my grandpa lovingly called "the idiot box."  However, when I look back and recall ceratin "staple" shows I loved when I was a kid, it's impossible to deny that they do bring back some really warm, comfortable memories.  I remember wanting to be He-Man or wishing I could control Voltron.  I remember wishing a cat-eating alien would land in my backyard and basically move in as I watched A.L.F.  Friday nights when I was in junior high were awesome because of T.G.I.F. on ABC where the lineup was Perfect Strangers (remember Balki and cousin Larry?), Full House, Family Matters, and Step by Step.  Think back to great ones like Mr. Belvedere, Who's the Boss?, Webster, Silver Spoons, and Growing Pains and you've got a blueprint for the perfect sitcom, right?  Oh, and don't forget the ultimate...the never-to-be-released-on-DVD juggernaut that was...The Wonder Years.  Great stuff; what a shame they'll never be able to re-license all that awesome music from that one for DVD sales.

Still, there's no denying that one show from my youth stands head and shoulders above all of them.  What show?  Saved by the Bell!!!

It was cheesy, overidealistic, and is as locked into one period of time as a show could possibly be. There's also the weird final season of the series involving what's been termed "The Tori Paradox," but I forgive and forget. Yet, despite it's faults (time-outs to talk to the camera, shoddy dream sequences, lots of awkward dancing), there's something so awesome about it that made me rarely miss an episode as a kid and still keeps me watching when it's on now that I'm an adult.  I have pretty much watched every episode multiple times and can tell you basic plotlines of about all of them (note: While I do recognize Good Morning, Miss Bliss as part of the SBTB canon, I do not affirm SBTB: The College Years or SBTB: The New Class; those are like t.v. heresy).  Confession: this passion for SBTB probably came mostly as a side effect of my childhood ambition to be Zack Morris.  I lost the sweet hair, but did marry a girl named Kelly; close enough, right? 

As I was recently enjoying a touch of Bayside High on DVD, I decided to compile a countdown of my favorite six episodes of the show along with some thoughts on each.  If you have Netflix, it is expected that you, as a responsible reader of my blog, will watch them and report back.  Heck, throw in your own list if you want!! 

#6: The Fabulous Belding Boys

• Basic Idea: Principal Belding's bro, Rod, comes in as a substitute in a class the kids have to pass so they can go on a field trip.  Rod's so uber-cool he let's them all out of the test AND offers to take them...wait on it...WHITE WATER RAFTING!!!  Only hitch is that on the day they're supposed to leave, Rod bails on the kids for some stewardess...jerk..  The elder Belding steps in to save the day in his loser brother's stead and the kids learn who really cares about them.
• Awesome Because: Richard Belding is clutch, Rod gets sent packing.  Oh, and this video.
• Memorable Quotes: Screech says: "If you want scenery baby, wait till you see me in a wet t-shirt," to which Lisa replies: "Only if it means you're drowning."  Classic Lisa burn.  OR Principal Belding owning his bro: "I'm tired of covering for you. Get out of my school, Rod."  Boom.  Eat it, Rod.

#5: The Prom

• Basic Idea: There are two prom episodes, this is the first of the two.  Kelly chooses Zack over Slater to take to the prom, but there's a problem (isn't there always a problem?).  Kelly's dad loses his defense job when peace breaks out.  Kelly gives her dad back the money he gave her for her prom dress, but can't tell Zack the truth as to why she has to break their date.  Zack finds out and sets up their own prom outside the gym while everyone else dances to horrible music that proves the show had no music-licensing budget. 
• Awesome Because: Zack and Kelly were the precursor to Ross and Rachel.  Also, Belding harasses two kids for dancing too close and later the girl totally disses the guy by spending the last dance with some other dude!  Epic fail, Gnardino (or Mancuso, it never specifies who was who).
• Memorable Quote: Jessie to Slater: "Do you realize we haven't argued in 15 seconds?" Slater's reply: "It was 20; shut up."  Smooth, A.C. ...smooth.

#4: Rocumentary

• Basic Idea: Zack and the kiddos have a band (The Zack Attack) and are practicing when record exec. Brian "Fate" happens by and nabs them up.  They're whisked off on a rock journey to the top of the charts until the token Yoko Ono convinces Zack he's the most important part of the band.  Tensions rise, Zack starts dressing like a glitzier Vanilla Ice, and they break up.  Eventually the friendships are restored and the band reunites.  However, the entire ride was just a dream...or was it?
• Awesome Because: Casey Kasem narrates, The song "Friends Forever" was spawned.
• Memorable Quote:  Sorry, but the song stands head and shoulders above anything said in the episode.

#3 S.A.T.'S

• Basic Idea: Zack, a chronic C student at best, blows the top out of the SAT, which isn't a problem outside of the fact that his score far surpasses that of straight-A student, Jessie.  This throws her into a fit as she becomes convinced she'll never get into Stansbury, her dream school, which is now actively pursuing Zack as a recruit.  Zack hires an actor to come to a college fair as if he were a Harvard recruiter.  He feigns great interest in Jessie in an attempt to up Stansbury's interest in Jessie.  Jessie sniffs out the ruse and declines Stansbury's offer (apparently learning that there are plenty of other schools out there).
• Awesome Because: I also had bad grades, but good standardized test scores.  Obviously SBTB is to blame for programming me as such.
• Memorable Quote: Stansbury rep.: "We've always considered ourselves the 'Harvard of the West'." James, the actor replies: "Madam; north, south, east or west, there is only one Haaaaarrrrrrvvvvarrd!"  OR Slater with this NCAA red-flagger: "Boy, it's a good thing I didn't tell her [Stansbury] offered me a car."

#2: Home For Christmas Parts 1 and 2

• Basic Idea: It's Christmas and the gang get mall jobs.  At the mall, Zack falls for a young girl working at a clothing store.  He later finds out this girl is homeless while visiting a homeless man, who happens to be her father, at the hospital after he'd passed out in the mall.  The young lady ends up being accused of stealing later on due to a misunderstanding.  Eventually, the mistake comes to light and mean ol' Mr. Moody, who'd accused her of stealing, learns a Christmas lesson.  Zack's father even gets the homeless man a job, a true Christmas miracle!  Strangely, the girl then never shows up in any future episodes.  Guess that job didn't stick.
• Awesome Because: A mashup of fifty other Christmas specials with the perfect amount of SBTB cheese factor drizzled on top.  Delicious.
• Memorable Quotes: Zack w/ this odd one: "You see, I don't really know that much about the homeless people." THE homeless people?  What are they, some strange, obscure culture with their own language, holidays, customs?  Keep it P.C.,  Zack.

And the Big Winner Is.....

#1: Jessie's Song

• Basic Idea: Undoubtedly the most quoted episode of SBTB ever, this gem focuses on Jessie's addiction to DRUGS!!! Well, actually just caffeine pills.  Jessie is under tremendous pressure due to her inability to comprehend geometry and her involvment in the Zack Morris-managed trio, "Hot Sundae."  To cope with all the pressure, she turns to some No-Doze pills which Slater repeatedly warns her against.  The night of a big performance by "Hot Sundae," Zack comes to pick Jessie up, but she wigs out and sings the most famous line in SBTB history. The girls sub Screech in, the performance flops, but friends remain friends and a life lesson is learned.
• Awesome Because: So much to say...The Hot Sundae video, Jessie's odd behaviors after taking a test and practicing for the big performance, THE famous line!!!!
• Memorable Quote: Jessie singing, "I'm so excited!!! I'm so excited!!! I'm so...scared!!!"

I hope you've enjoyed reading about (and perhaps reliving) a few of these great episodes.  Some folks don't care for SBTB, but I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for ol' Bayside where kids make mistakes, but always learn a valuable lesson in the process...and everybody actually seems to be "Friends Forever."

Effective Score: 13/10 based on that last sentence which is cheesier than any episode of SBTB could ever hope to be.

Rapid Fire...

Mondays are for quick hitters...

1. Ryan Franklin has become Jason Isringhausen all over again.  When the closer comes in, it should inspire confidence in the crowd, not fear and trepidation.

2. Joe Morgan of Morgan Amplification is a good dude (whose amps RULE).  I jacked up my head doing something dumb and the guy charged me a grand total of NOTHING to fix it.  He also changed out my ugly red headshell for a cool black one at no charge and shipped it back on his dime.  Take care of your customers and they'll come back for more...and blog about you.

3. "Beautiful Things" by Gungor makes me cry...every time. Listen here.

4. The Perfect Getaway is a pretty sweet flick...until the twist is revealed.  Then it goes on too long and degrades into stupidity.

5. In this movie, Steve Zahn looks like Rob Bell (but does not argue against traditional belief of a literal, eternal hell).

6. The Will Ferrell/Steve Carrell hug on The Office last week was one of the funniest moments that show has seen in a LONG time.

7. My band may reunite for a show or two in the near future.  I've already written two new tunes just because that excites me.  Best part is that I think these songs might actually be good. 

Effective Score = 3.4

Opening Shots...

Because the world needs my opining (love that word) more than another Kesha album or a Broadway adaptation of the late 80's television gem Alf, let's get our blog on, shall we? Mondays are for quick hitters...

• Will Smith, your kids are killing me. A) The Karate Kid is sacred and B) I apologize, but given my scalp's incompetence, I can't jam to a song about whipping hair back and forth. Batting 0 for 2 w/ me.


• Buck up Will; it was sweet when you punched that Alien in Independence Day. Sometimes I wish I could punch an alien and tauntingly say, "Welcome to Earth."


• Fallon has won me over. I'm not shy about how lame I think he was on SNL and I don't even need to comment on his film career (Taxi), but his show is rivaling Conan for the best in late night. His Thank You notes blow Dave's Top 10 out of the water, and his Bob Dylan/Neil Young impersonations are spot-on.


• Oh, and his house band is THE ROOTS!!!? Dudes KILL it night in and night out.


• Shaquille O'Neal's film resume actually makes his rap albums seem awesome by comparison.


• I hope Mike Alden knows what he's doing...because the rest of us have no clue.


• I'm okay w/ Mike Anderson bolting for U of A. We have to get someone who can land the big-time Missouri talent (case in point here...and from previous coaching nightmares here). I'm grateful that he pulled us out of Quin's mess, but I'm still not sure how an 8-8, fifth in our conference got him a Krzyzewski paycheck.


• I'm out...I give this list a 6/10. Will do better next time.