You may remember me mentioning that my 20th high school reunion took place a couple of months ago. Shortly before the reunion, one of the organizers sent out a questionaire and asked us to complete it. The questions were kind of predictable... What kind of music did you listen to... Who was your favorite teacher... What kind of advice would you give your kid now... that kind of stuff.
The day before Thanksgiving, a CD containing everyone's completed questionaire arrived at my house, and I briefly looked at it as I was preparing Thanksgiving dinner. The first thing that surprised me was how few names and faces I recalled. In order to shorten things up, I decided to stop looking at the profiles of people I didn't remember. While reading through the short-list questionaire, I discovered that one of my favorite teachers had passed away.
Dale Harmon was my teacher for three different English classes. The first class, News-Oriented Workshop (N.O.W.) was a reading and writing class based on current events in the newspaper and in magazines. The class also encouraged critical thinking and discussion, because we talked about the assignments we wrote, which were based on these current events. I also took an advanced composition class and a world literature class because he was the teacher.
Mr. Harmon was a short, round, bald guy, with a personality that blended Danny DeVito and Santa Claus. He was witty and funny, but without the sarcasm. He was quick to laugh, slow to anger, and he constantly pushed his students to grow and learn. His love of teaching fostered a love of learning in countless students, and the world is a better place for his existence.
Some time after graduating high school, I was prompted to get back in touch with Dale. Whether my decision was a result of something I said or something I read isn't really relevant. What matters is that I decided to contact him and let him know how much his teaching impacted my life. Since he was an English teacher, I figured that a letter was the most appropriate method of contacting him, and in short order I had received a written response.
Over the course of the next couple of months we exchanged a few letters and briefly discussed several subjects. The relationship quickly evolved from student-teacher tutelage to one of mutual respect shared between peers, and I eventually decided to drop in and see him. On one of my summer visits to my hometown, I popped in and we chatted for a couple of hours. We talked about education, parenting, politics and life, and it's a day I won't soon forget. I walked away from his house very happy about stopping by, because I had the distinct sense that for all of his outward happiness, Mr. Harmon was a man carrying a lot of regret; I wasn't able to lift any of that burden - regret is something that only the owner can carry. I did, however, give him something to be proud of. I told him how much his teaching influenced my life, and I let him know that several of my high school peers held him in similar esteem. The visit certainly made the day for both of us.
That was the last time I saw, spoke to or wrote to Dale Harmon. I had always intended to get back in touch with him, and life always got in the way. When I found out that he had died I knew that I'd never see him again, and I was a little wistful about that; but I was thankful for telling him how much he meant to me.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
What's Happened to Thanksgiving?
I was watching Desperate Housewives last night, and they had a clip in the show where Bree and family listening to Christmas music, getting Christmas cards made, and generally preparing for Christmas. The very next commercial was a Christmas commercial. Now, I've come in to work and I'm hearing non-stop Christmas music on the radio.
Am I the only one that thinks we need to celebrate Thanksgiving before we get all fired up about Christmas? Don't get me wrong, I'm not a humbug or anything. In fact, I like Christmas. I especially like decorating the tree (which I do the weekend after Thanksgiving), wrapping gifts, watching the kids unwrap said gifts, and a couple of our family traditions, like buying a new ornament for my wife and each of my kids every year... something that uniquely represents my relationship with each of the ladies in my life. But man, this is nuts! Can't we celebrate Thanksgiving first?
I get the whole commercial aspect of Christmas. I've been talking about this for my entire adult life. But it really seems to get a little worse each year. The merchants are so worried about their precious profits that they completely overlook Thanksgiving, just as they have brushed aside the meaning behind Christmas. Both of these holidays are designed to remember God, but alas, it's all about the commercialism.
Am I the only one that thinks we need to celebrate Thanksgiving before we get all fired up about Christmas? Don't get me wrong, I'm not a humbug or anything. In fact, I like Christmas. I especially like decorating the tree (which I do the weekend after Thanksgiving), wrapping gifts, watching the kids unwrap said gifts, and a couple of our family traditions, like buying a new ornament for my wife and each of my kids every year... something that uniquely represents my relationship with each of the ladies in my life. But man, this is nuts! Can't we celebrate Thanksgiving first?
I get the whole commercial aspect of Christmas. I've been talking about this for my entire adult life. But it really seems to get a little worse each year. The merchants are so worried about their precious profits that they completely overlook Thanksgiving, just as they have brushed aside the meaning behind Christmas. Both of these holidays are designed to remember God, but alas, it's all about the commercialism.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Veterans Day
I'm a little disappointed that I didn't get this posted yesterday, but I was watching my daughter compete in a cheerleading/dance competition. (That's another story entirely.)
For those of you who aren't familiar with the origins of Veterans Day, it was originally called Armistice Day, and was created to honor the cessation of hostilities of World War I (which officially ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month). Sometime in the 1950's the government changed the holiday from Armistice Day to Veterans Day in order to honor veterans from all wars.
Many other countries observe some form of Armistice Day, and most observe two minutes of silence. Americans don't seem to do this, but before my daughter's aforementioned competition began, I asked for and received two minutes of silence. I figure that two minutes isn't much to ask, especially when compared to those who gave their lives during the Great War. Maybe we should start a campaign to get the two minutes observed nationwide in the U.S.
When I asked for the two minutes, I walked up to the emcee (sporting a Marine Corps hat and my denim jacket with a USMC patch on it) and asked her if she was going to observe the two minutes for Veterans Day. "Should we," she queried?
I didn't miss a heartbeat... "Yeah," I replied.
"Two minutes. That's a long time," she offered.
I was a little incensed over that comment, but I kept my cool. I was only slightly snide as I said "No it isn't."
A couple of minutes later, we observed the silence. I don't remember the last time I heard silence so utter in such a large gathering.
For those of you who aren't familiar with the origins of Veterans Day, it was originally called Armistice Day, and was created to honor the cessation of hostilities of World War I (which officially ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month). Sometime in the 1950's the government changed the holiday from Armistice Day to Veterans Day in order to honor veterans from all wars.
Many other countries observe some form of Armistice Day, and most observe two minutes of silence. Americans don't seem to do this, but before my daughter's aforementioned competition began, I asked for and received two minutes of silence. I figure that two minutes isn't much to ask, especially when compared to those who gave their lives during the Great War. Maybe we should start a campaign to get the two minutes observed nationwide in the U.S.
When I asked for the two minutes, I walked up to the emcee (sporting a Marine Corps hat and my denim jacket with a USMC patch on it) and asked her if she was going to observe the two minutes for Veterans Day. "Should we," she queried?
I didn't miss a heartbeat... "Yeah," I replied.
"Two minutes. That's a long time," she offered.
I was a little incensed over that comment, but I kept my cool. I was only slightly snide as I said "No it isn't."
A couple of minutes later, we observed the silence. I don't remember the last time I heard silence so utter in such a large gathering.
Monday, October 30, 2006
A Tourist, Trapped
Today was my big tourist day. Up to now, Mrs. Evan has been diligently attending conferences. I've done a lot of walking and people-watching, and checking out the local scene, but I wanted to wait for the tourist thing until Mrs. Evan could join me. She took the morning off from lectures, giving us a brief but greatly appreciated opportunity to experience some of Seattle's attractions together.
We started our morning by walking downtown, where we could catch the monorail to the Seattle Center, home to the Space Needle and Experience Music Project. Unfortunately, things didn't work exactly as planned. When we got to the monorail station, there was a big sign saying that it was closed for maintenance. We took the bus instead. The next grand disappointment was discovering that the Experience Music Project is closed on Tuesdays during the winter months. WTF, didn't these idiots know that I was coming?!? Apparently they missed the memo! With the morning starting off on a slightly disappointing note, we headed up the Space Needle. Since this is the grand tourist trap of Seattle, I had low to moderate expectations for the place, despite the fact that numerous people -- tourists and locals -- told me that I needed to do it.
I am happy to announce that the Space Needle is definitely worth the trip. Apparently there are days where it's too windy to go out on the outdoor observation deck, and there are (ostensibly rainy) days where the view isn't as good because you can't see as far, but we went on a calm, sunny day, and the view was truly spectacular. You can easily see Mount Rainier, Puget Sound and the city of Seattle.
Once I was in the Needle, and got my bearings, I was able to figure out how to find it from other locations after my trip had ended. This picture was actually taken a couple of days ago from the docks, but it should help you understand that it's a landmark that's visible from just about everywhere, except for the middle of downtown, because of all of the skyscrapers.
The Needle is full of cool facts about where the idea came from, how it became a reality, and about the engineering. For example: The Needle is designed to withstand 150 MPH winds, and a 6+ earthquake.
I also had a couple of misconceptions about the Needle. I figured that the whole thing rotated. That's not true. Only the floor of the restaurant turns. And not even the whole restaurant... only the area where the patrons actually dine. Despite the fact that the restaurant is one floor below the observation deck, I like the restaurant's view better. The observation deck has a safety system built in, chock full of safety glass and cables. (I suppose it's designed to prevent idiots from jumping.) The restaurant, with its large panes of (safety)glass offers a better view, despite being one floor lower. Add in the fact that it rotates, and the realization that the shape naturally keeps you from direct sunlight (no glare), and you should be able to understand why I like the restaurant's view better.
There were a couple of minor things that detracted from the restaurant. It doesn't open until 11:00 (so we got there too early to try it out), it's a little cramped (but not too bad) and the decor is a little tacky. (It seems as if it hadn't been updated since its original 1960'-era construction.) On the cool side, they start spinning the restaurant about an hour before they officially open for service. With all of this in mind, I recommend that you get there about an hour or so after they open, and catch an early lunch. Based on my understanding, they validate your elevator ride, so if you eat there, your elevator ride is free. (I can't speak for this firsthand though.)
Taking a minor detour back to yesterday's post, here's a picture of me in semi-grunge mode. Seriously, do I look like somebody that's looking to score some weed? Okay, maybe that wasn't the best question to ask, but for what it's worth, I'm going to reiterate that I was NOT looking to score any illegal substances.
Okay, back to our regularly scheduled program...
After we finished at the space needle, we went back downtown and hit the market. The market is nearly impossible to describe, but I'll try. The market is a multi-story, semi-open-air area that contains the most eclectic collection of shops I've ever experienced. The first floor and some areas on the other floors (located on lower levers) are covered, but they are open-air, meaning you can walk in from the street without opening any doors and there are no windows or walls. The main floor focuses on fresh, perishable items, mainly fish brought directly in from the Pacific, fruits and vegetables, and flowers. The other stores are either incredibly high-end collector-type stores, or giant garage sales crammed into the space of 200-odd square feet. There are also a couple of great restaurants, some super-duper high end, and some cafe-style, all facing the bay.
You may have heard of the Pike Place Fish Market. They were the subject of a motivational corporate-style video put out around ten years ago. The basic idea of the video is that you may have a crappy or difficult job, but your job (and your life) is really what you make of it, no matter what your lot in life. I got to see these guys in action, and I must admit that I was truly captivated by them. They love their job, and they have a great time interacting with the customer and gawkers. I'm so wowed by them that I'm still considering having them ship some stuff to me at home.
My last entry for today is discussing a personal pilgrimage. I mentioned earlier that I couldn't pay homage to Cobain or Staley, and that I missed the EMP. I did however, find out that there's a Harley-Davidson store in downtown Seattle. So I did what any loyal Harley owner would do... I dropped by and bought a patch to sew onto my jacket. I also snapped a couple of pics while I was there.
This will probably be my last entry about my trip to Seattle, unless you have any questions. We're heading home tomorrow. I hope you've enjoyed reading about my trip. I've certainly loved the experience, and enjoyed relaying it to you. Tonight we're going to hit a local restaurant that's famous for its fresh seafood and view of the Sound. Maybe I'll give you a review. I will be posting all of my pics on my flickr account soon. Oh by the way, speaking of restaurants... we hit the local Cheesecake Factory the other night. Their daily special was salmon. One guy in our party was thinking about getting it. He asked if it was local and fresh, to which the waitress sheepishly acknowledged that it was Atlantic Salmon. How tacky is that?!?
We started our morning by walking downtown, where we could catch the monorail to the Seattle Center, home to the Space Needle and Experience Music Project. Unfortunately, things didn't work exactly as planned. When we got to the monorail station, there was a big sign saying that it was closed for maintenance. We took the bus instead. The next grand disappointment was discovering that the Experience Music Project is closed on Tuesdays during the winter months. WTF, didn't these idiots know that I was coming?!? Apparently they missed the memo! With the morning starting off on a slightly disappointing note, we headed up the Space Needle. Since this is the grand tourist trap of Seattle, I had low to moderate expectations for the place, despite the fact that numerous people -- tourists and locals -- told me that I needed to do it.
I am happy to announce that the Space Needle is definitely worth the trip. Apparently there are days where it's too windy to go out on the outdoor observation deck, and there are (ostensibly rainy) days where the view isn't as good because you can't see as far, but we went on a calm, sunny day, and the view was truly spectacular. You can easily see Mount Rainier, Puget Sound and the city of Seattle.
Once I was in the Needle, and got my bearings, I was able to figure out how to find it from other locations after my trip had ended. This picture was actually taken a couple of days ago from the docks, but it should help you understand that it's a landmark that's visible from just about everywhere, except for the middle of downtown, because of all of the skyscrapers.The Needle is full of cool facts about where the idea came from, how it became a reality, and about the engineering. For example: The Needle is designed to withstand 150 MPH winds, and a 6+ earthquake.
I also had a couple of misconceptions about the Needle. I figured that the whole thing rotated. That's not true. Only the floor of the restaurant turns. And not even the whole restaurant... only the area where the patrons actually dine. Despite the fact that the restaurant is one floor below the observation deck, I like the restaurant's view better. The observation deck has a safety system built in, chock full of safety glass and cables. (I suppose it's designed to prevent idiots from jumping.) The restaurant, with its large panes of (safety)glass offers a better view, despite being one floor lower. Add in the fact that it rotates, and the realization that the shape naturally keeps you from direct sunlight (no glare), and you should be able to understand why I like the restaurant's view better.
There were a couple of minor things that detracted from the restaurant. It doesn't open until 11:00 (so we got there too early to try it out), it's a little cramped (but not too bad) and the decor is a little tacky. (It seems as if it hadn't been updated since its original 1960'-era construction.) On the cool side, they start spinning the restaurant about an hour before they officially open for service. With all of this in mind, I recommend that you get there about an hour or so after they open, and catch an early lunch. Based on my understanding, they validate your elevator ride, so if you eat there, your elevator ride is free. (I can't speak for this firsthand though.)
Taking a minor detour back to yesterday's post, here's a picture of me in semi-grunge mode. Seriously, do I look like somebody that's looking to score some weed? Okay, maybe that wasn't the best question to ask, but for what it's worth, I'm going to reiterate that I was NOT looking to score any illegal substances.Okay, back to our regularly scheduled program...
After we finished at the space needle, we went back downtown and hit the market. The market is nearly impossible to describe, but I'll try. The market is a multi-story, semi-open-air area that contains the most eclectic collection of shops I've ever experienced. The first floor and some areas on the other floors (located on lower levers) are covered, but they are open-air, meaning you can walk in from the street without opening any doors and there are no windows or walls. The main floor focuses on fresh, perishable items, mainly fish brought directly in from the Pacific, fruits and vegetables, and flowers. The other stores are either incredibly high-end collector-type stores, or giant garage sales crammed into the space of 200-odd square feet. There are also a couple of great restaurants, some super-duper high end, and some cafe-style, all facing the bay.
You may have heard of the Pike Place Fish Market. They were the subject of a motivational corporate-style video put out around ten years ago. The basic idea of the video is that you may have a crappy or difficult job, but your job (and your life) is really what you make of it, no matter what your lot in life. I got to see these guys in action, and I must admit that I was truly captivated by them. They love their job, and they have a great time interacting with the customer and gawkers. I'm so wowed by them that I'm still considering having them ship some stuff to me at home.
My last entry for today is discussing a personal pilgrimage. I mentioned earlier that I couldn't pay homage to Cobain or Staley, and that I missed the EMP. I did however, find out that there's a Harley-Davidson store in downtown Seattle. So I did what any loyal Harley owner would do... I dropped by and bought a patch to sew onto my jacket. I also snapped a couple of pics while I was there.This will probably be my last entry about my trip to Seattle, unless you have any questions. We're heading home tomorrow. I hope you've enjoyed reading about my trip. I've certainly loved the experience, and enjoyed relaying it to you. Tonight we're going to hit a local restaurant that's famous for its fresh seafood and view of the Sound. Maybe I'll give you a review. I will be posting all of my pics on my flickr account soon. Oh by the way, speaking of restaurants... we hit the local Cheesecake Factory the other night. Their daily special was salmon. One guy in our party was thinking about getting it. He asked if it was local and fresh, to which the waitress sheepishly acknowledged that it was Atlantic Salmon. How tacky is that?!?
Are You Alright?
The exploration of Seattle continues. I've been doing more walking (I'm sure I've passed the 35 mile mark by now), more exploring and a lot of eating.
I must be really convincing with my Seattle grunge look... Walking around in jeans, a T-Shirt, a heavy wool button-down flannel, my leather trenchcoat and shades, and sporting a goatee plus several days of razor stubble. I've had one tourist ask me for directions... oddly enough, I knew how to get there, and I recommended that they put away their map, lest they be overrun by people begging for spare change.
What really convinced me that I must look local though, is that three people have asked me if I want to buy drugs. The first two, which occurred yesterday, were really subtle, and I didn't catch on until a little while after the second time. In each case, the guys started by asking me for some spare change and then asked me if they could chat after I said no. They chatted about nothing in particular, but they both asked me if I was shopping, and they both asked me if I was alright. A half hour or so later, I was walking through the pedestrian park and smelled that unmistakable scent of burning rope. Once I caught a whiff, I understood why those two guys were so curious if I was shopping and acutely concerned about my well-being. I couldn't help but laugh over the fact that it took me so long to get what they were talking about.
Today's experience wasn't quite as subtle. A guy just walked up to me and asked if I wanted to buy some morphine. Ummm.... let me think about this... NO!!
Walking around town during the week is significantly different from early mornings on the weekend. The city was up and running before I was, and there was more of a businesslike atmosphere. People were a little more dressed up, more cell phones to the ears, and people seemed more focused. The market was up and running earlier too. Stay tuned for the next chapter of Seattle in Review.
I must be really convincing with my Seattle grunge look... Walking around in jeans, a T-Shirt, a heavy wool button-down flannel, my leather trenchcoat and shades, and sporting a goatee plus several days of razor stubble. I've had one tourist ask me for directions... oddly enough, I knew how to get there, and I recommended that they put away their map, lest they be overrun by people begging for spare change.
What really convinced me that I must look local though, is that three people have asked me if I want to buy drugs. The first two, which occurred yesterday, were really subtle, and I didn't catch on until a little while after the second time. In each case, the guys started by asking me for some spare change and then asked me if they could chat after I said no. They chatted about nothing in particular, but they both asked me if I was shopping, and they both asked me if I was alright. A half hour or so later, I was walking through the pedestrian park and smelled that unmistakable scent of burning rope. Once I caught a whiff, I understood why those two guys were so curious if I was shopping and acutely concerned about my well-being. I couldn't help but laugh over the fact that it took me so long to get what they were talking about.
Today's experience wasn't quite as subtle. A guy just walked up to me and asked if I wanted to buy some morphine. Ummm.... let me think about this... NO!!
Walking around town during the week is significantly different from early mornings on the weekend. The city was up and running before I was, and there was more of a businesslike atmosphere. People were a little more dressed up, more cell phones to the ears, and people seemed more focused. The market was up and running earlier too. Stay tuned for the next chapter of Seattle in Review.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
...Of Fellowship and Warmth
I'm not really sure where to begin with this... I've been sitting here for several minutes trying to organize my experience thus far into a coherent thought, and I haven't had much success. I guess it's time to give up on trying to formulate a congruent story and just go with a stream of consciousness approach. I hope you'll bear with me if things get a little disjointed, but I've seen a lot in a very short period of time.
Everything I've experienced up to now has been on foot, and it's all been downtown and at the waterfront. I haven't yet done the Space Needle or the Experience Music Project... that's coming later. The walking has been extensive. I haven't measured exactly how much distance I've covered, but based on my average walking speed and how long I was out and about, I estimate that I've covered roughly 25 miles since arriving. I'm a moderately active guy, but I wasn't quite prepared for this. My legs are sore as hell. I'm only here for a few days though, and I may not have another opportunity to see this incredible city, so I won't let a little thing like sore muscles slow me down.
Seattle is like a woman... beautiful, complex, enigmatic and a little bit self-contradicting. Seattle is also a very clean city, and people seem to take pride in that. Each morning I see workers emptying the garbage from the waste containers, and cleaning the sidewalks. Early mornings are quiet and peaceful, belying the vitality that the city shows later in the day. This picture was taken around 8:30 A.M. on a Sunday, in the middle of downtown, and Saturday was just as deserted.
There is a lot of money in this town, but little conspicuous consumption. The architecture is clean but not glitzy, the prices in the stores are urban but not outrageous, the cars are clean and well-kept, but not ostentatious, and people dress well but casually.
At the same time there is a lot of poverty in Seattle. There are many homeless here. Young... old... male... female... white... black. The poverty in this town is as diverse as the wealth, and it's interesting to watch the two groups interact. Yes, they interact. Those who are fortunate are compassionate towards those who go without. The destitute are not looked down upon with disdain. In return, the homeless are respectful and appreciative. They don't jump in your face and ask for things, and they express genuine appreciation for what they are given. Many even offer blessings to random passers-by.
I have seen my share of poverty, and I have seen my share of scams. I know that some of the panhandlers in this city actually make a decent living by begging. One guy had a sign asking for help for him and his dog, and both of them had enough extra weight on them that there was absolutely no imminent danger of starvation. Some vagabonds use humor to get their daily bread. One middle-aged guy had a sign that said "My father was killed by ninjas. Need money for karate lessons." I saw numerous people give him a dollar just because the sign was clever. These specific drifters provided me a strange sort of amusement. I know that they were living this way by choice to some extent. They were living hand to mouth, but they also had an air of freedom about them that almost made me envious.
Others tugged at my heart strings. I saw a group of four teenagers sleeping in a drained water fountain, huddling together to stay warm. I saw a man covered in a single blanket, next to a suitcase... ostensibly his only remaining possessions. I saw the man in this picture.
Giving directly to the homeless is an act of faith, done strictly on an emotional basis. Some I can look in the eye and feel nothing. Others, I gaze in their general direction and nearly end up in tears. I saw this gentleman from above, and nearly a block away, while taking pictures of the cityscape. Looking downward, he held his sign, imposing himself on nobody. After taking my photographs, I walked toward him. He didn't ask for money. With a slight shiver, he asked me for coffee. I had just taken a couple of sips out of my cup, so it was nearly full. Without batting an eyelash, I gave him mine. "What about you," he asked?
"Dude, don't worry about me." The guy is begging for coffee, and when I offered him mine, he asked what I was going to do. This is the kind of quiet dignity that moves me. Yeah, it's possible that he was playing the system, but I highly doubt it. The hobos and vagabonds have a different air about them... almost gypsyish. This man didn't ask for money, and when I offered him all of what I had, he expressed concern for me.
Shortly after this, I ran into another guy who did hit me up for money. We walked and talked. I don't give money as a rule, and I declined in his case as well. He asked if he could walk and talk a bit, and I agreed. We didn't really talk about much, just small talk. He asked where I was from, and if this was my first visit to Seattle, welcoming me when I acknowledged that I had just arrived. He said that he was released from prison a couple of years back and had trouble finding a job. Not much more, just a passing conversation. When we parted ways, he thanked me for talking to him. God touched me this morning. I felt that I was able to help two men in some small way. One man, I gave fellowship, and one man I gave warmth on a cold Seattle morning.
Everything I've experienced up to now has been on foot, and it's all been downtown and at the waterfront. I haven't yet done the Space Needle or the Experience Music Project... that's coming later. The walking has been extensive. I haven't measured exactly how much distance I've covered, but based on my average walking speed and how long I was out and about, I estimate that I've covered roughly 25 miles since arriving. I'm a moderately active guy, but I wasn't quite prepared for this. My legs are sore as hell. I'm only here for a few days though, and I may not have another opportunity to see this incredible city, so I won't let a little thing like sore muscles slow me down.
Seattle is like a woman... beautiful, complex, enigmatic and a little bit self-contradicting. Seattle is also a very clean city, and people seem to take pride in that. Each morning I see workers emptying the garbage from the waste containers, and cleaning the sidewalks. Early mornings are quiet and peaceful, belying the vitality that the city shows later in the day. This picture was taken around 8:30 A.M. on a Sunday, in the middle of downtown, and Saturday was just as deserted.There is a lot of money in this town, but little conspicuous consumption. The architecture is clean but not glitzy, the prices in the stores are urban but not outrageous, the cars are clean and well-kept, but not ostentatious, and people dress well but casually.
At the same time there is a lot of poverty in Seattle. There are many homeless here. Young... old... male... female... white... black. The poverty in this town is as diverse as the wealth, and it's interesting to watch the two groups interact. Yes, they interact. Those who are fortunate are compassionate towards those who go without. The destitute are not looked down upon with disdain. In return, the homeless are respectful and appreciative. They don't jump in your face and ask for things, and they express genuine appreciation for what they are given. Many even offer blessings to random passers-by.
I have seen my share of poverty, and I have seen my share of scams. I know that some of the panhandlers in this city actually make a decent living by begging. One guy had a sign asking for help for him and his dog, and both of them had enough extra weight on them that there was absolutely no imminent danger of starvation. Some vagabonds use humor to get their daily bread. One middle-aged guy had a sign that said "My father was killed by ninjas. Need money for karate lessons." I saw numerous people give him a dollar just because the sign was clever. These specific drifters provided me a strange sort of amusement. I know that they were living this way by choice to some extent. They were living hand to mouth, but they also had an air of freedom about them that almost made me envious.
Others tugged at my heart strings. I saw a group of four teenagers sleeping in a drained water fountain, huddling together to stay warm. I saw a man covered in a single blanket, next to a suitcase... ostensibly his only remaining possessions. I saw the man in this picture.Giving directly to the homeless is an act of faith, done strictly on an emotional basis. Some I can look in the eye and feel nothing. Others, I gaze in their general direction and nearly end up in tears. I saw this gentleman from above, and nearly a block away, while taking pictures of the cityscape. Looking downward, he held his sign, imposing himself on nobody. After taking my photographs, I walked toward him. He didn't ask for money. With a slight shiver, he asked me for coffee. I had just taken a couple of sips out of my cup, so it was nearly full. Without batting an eyelash, I gave him mine. "What about you," he asked?
"Dude, don't worry about me." The guy is begging for coffee, and when I offered him mine, he asked what I was going to do. This is the kind of quiet dignity that moves me. Yeah, it's possible that he was playing the system, but I highly doubt it. The hobos and vagabonds have a different air about them... almost gypsyish. This man didn't ask for money, and when I offered him all of what I had, he expressed concern for me.
Shortly after this, I ran into another guy who did hit me up for money. We walked and talked. I don't give money as a rule, and I declined in his case as well. He asked if he could walk and talk a bit, and I agreed. We didn't really talk about much, just small talk. He asked where I was from, and if this was my first visit to Seattle, welcoming me when I acknowledged that I had just arrived. He said that he was released from prison a couple of years back and had trouble finding a job. Not much more, just a passing conversation. When we parted ways, he thanked me for talking to him. God touched me this morning. I felt that I was able to help two men in some small way. One man, I gave fellowship, and one man I gave warmth on a cold Seattle morning.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Stop Playing Tag, You're Scaring Me!
I just finished reading a story stating that an elementary school in Attleboro, MA have "banned kids from playing tag, touch football and any other unsupervised chase game during recess for fear they'll get hurt and hold the school liable." According to the principal, Gaylene Heppe, "recess is a time when accidents can happen." Fortunately, not everyone thinks this is a good decision. One parent lamented over the school's micromanagement of the kids and realizes that playing tag is part of being a kid. On the down side, Celeste D'Elia said her son feels safer because of the rule, and says that she's witnessed enough near collisions. These aren't actual collisions mind you, just near misses.
WTF!?! Let the kids play tag. If you're scared for your child, then send a note to the school saying your kid can't play, or compromise and get the kid a bubble wrap suit for playtime. Or maybe the school should send a waiver home with parents explaining that kids sometimes get hurt at recess. But come on, don't ban kids from playing.
This is absolutely assinine! For years we've been dealing with the expanding waistline of Americans, and the deteriorating health that accompanies our collective weight gain. This problem has been partially attributed to our lower levels of activity. So what do we do? We restrict our kids' activities even more. If this happens at my kids' school, I think I'll sue the district for contributing to my kids' poor health by restricting their physical activity.
WTF!?! Let the kids play tag. If you're scared for your child, then send a note to the school saying your kid can't play, or compromise and get the kid a bubble wrap suit for playtime. Or maybe the school should send a waiver home with parents explaining that kids sometimes get hurt at recess. But come on, don't ban kids from playing.
This is absolutely assinine! For years we've been dealing with the expanding waistline of Americans, and the deteriorating health that accompanies our collective weight gain. This problem has been partially attributed to our lower levels of activity. So what do we do? We restrict our kids' activities even more. If this happens at my kids' school, I think I'll sue the district for contributing to my kids' poor health by restricting their physical activity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
