Most of you know that Marcia was a week overdue to have our baby. Little Guerin Aquinas Rolfingsmeyer (named after St. Theodore Guerin and St. Thomas Aquinas) was originally due on June 26th but he didn’t seem like he ever wanted to come. Poor Marcia was sooooo big that the nurses at the hospital asked as we walked in, “So you’re having twins, huh?” and we’d look at them and smile as we said no.

Finally at about 8:30 in the morning on July 3rd, Marcia woke me up gently and politely rubbing my leg. I would stir but I just couldn’t get up. Finally she said, “Hon’, my water just broke.” Boy, I shot up like a rocket. Since my wife was a high risk pregnancy we were supposed to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible. But as some of you may know, when a woman first goes in to labor, they don’t just double over in pain and immediately deliver a kid. They get giddy and kind of piddle around doing things and talking a lot, so we didnt even leave the house until just about 10:30….2 hours after her water broke.

We arrived at the hospital and we were introduced to one of the nicest nurses I’d ever met: Erin. She watched over us and actually came in every half hour to make sure we were okay.  Unfortunately around 5 o’clock Marcia’s contractions had not progressed and remained random and weak.  After talking it over with our doctor, we’d decided that a progressive dose of petocin was the way to go.  Poor Marcia was having major contractions that were increasing in intensity and thusly increased in pain.  Right about 8:30, Marcia was in tears and was begging for an epidural.  I asked that she be checked to see how dilated she was before we even were going to consider using pain meds.  This is something that Marcia wanted, not just me.  I’m not some sadistic male pig who thinks that women should have pain in labor because they were the ones who partook of the fruit in the Garden of Eden.  Using no meds was something that was very dear to Marcia.   

I kicked everyone out of the delivery room and waited until the next contraction passed to look Marcia right in the eyes to say, “Are you sure this is what you want?  I just wanted to remind you that you wanted to do it with no meds for your sake and for the baby’s.” She began to cry and apologize to me telling me that the petocin was making it so bad that she couldn’t stand it.  I told her, “Don’t apologize to me, I have no idea what you are going through.  The only one who can gauge how bad it is is you.  This is all your decision and I will support you.”  I then had an idea that we would check how dilated she was before we made a final decision.

The nurses came back in and checked her; only 6cm. dilated!  So she made the call:  epidural.  I can’t blame her.  She didn’t have a clear end in sight and the contractions were killing her.  The contractions were one minute long and were coming every 2 minutes.  She was getting no rest in between them. 

Now, let me tell you, watching the epidural was like watching a train wreck or staring at a car accident.  No matter how creepy, no matter how disturbing it got, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.  I was even watching the anesthesiologist (sp?) in the reflection in the windows.  I felt myself starting to fade a little bit and the only reason I knew I was falling out was the sound of my shoes slowly creeking.  I caught myself, shook it off and concentrated on supporting my wife. 

After the whole epidural thing, I needed to get a breath of fresh air to clear my head and I figured it was a good time to also update people on the phone.  I called some close friends to let them know what was going on and then made my way back upstairs. 

As I stepped in the room, there was a buzz of activity.  Tara, our new nurse, and Marcia were really excited and chatty.  As Tara walked by me she said, “I’m going to find Dr. Pauloski.  She’s 9.5 cm. now!”  I was only gone for about 10 minutes.  The epidural had relaxed her to the point that everything was able to fall into place and get moving along at a quicker pace.  Literally the only thing we were waiting on was for the doctor to show up. 

What seemed like hours later, the doctor finally walked in the room.  He wheeled in his table as the nurse set up everything else.  By now, Marcia was so relaxed that she was chatty and laughing it up with everyone in the room.  And when I say everyone, I mean everyone.  My mom was there as well as my wife’s sister Amber, my mother-in-law Sue, my mom Louise and my 3 1/2 year old Titus. 

As Tara got on one side, I got on the other as the doctor prepared to deliver baby Guerin.  Titus got amazingly quiet and watched intently as this amazing thing.  He was full of questions as all of the comotion settled around his mom. 

The doctor gave us the okay to start pushing and Tara and I counted as Marcia bore down and started to heave.  We did the normal ten count allowing Marcia about a minute between contractions to catch her breath.  Finally the head started to show and the doctor did his best to kind of ease the big old melon of a head out.  The cord was wrapped around his neck so there was a tense couple of seconds as the doctor did his best to move it over his head.  Finally he was able to get it to budge and there was a collective sigh of relief.  As soon as Guerin’s head was out the rest of him just slid free. 

But there was a hush that fell over the room.  This baby was HUGE!  Even the doctor and nurse were kind of taken aback at what lay before them.  Doctor Pauloski finally broke the silence by saying, “You didn’t have a baby, you had a toddler!”  There was a little difficulty with Guerin’s breathing at first so he was moved over to the warming table where the nurse could stimulate him into crying.  He perked up rather quickly and he was weighed and measured.  Once again a hush passed over the room as the nurse called out, “23 1/2 inches, 11 pounds 8 ounces.”  She had to repeat it a couple of times before all the people in the room were convinced that the baby was as big as she was saying. 

About an hour later we were able to move upstairs to the room we would be staying in for the next 48 hours, kicked everyone out and ordered some food.  After we ate we decided to try our best to settle in and rest up.  It was now midnight and unfortunately I couldn’t sleep.  I roamed around outside, I played with the baby, I flipped through the channels and read through a book.  But no matter how exhausted I was, I couldn’t sleep. 

Finally around four in the morning, I pulled out the sleeper bed and tried to bed down for the night, which just happened to be the most uncomfortable sleep I’ve ever had.  I tossed and turned all night long and woke up so sore, you would have thought that I’d gone to the gym. 

Aside from all of the freaky things that happened, all the worries and concerns, everything turned out all right.  We’re at home now and we have an all new set of concerns (jaundice, possible infections, prepping the baby’s room, getting baby furniture to the house, etc.) but we’ll manage through them.  I’ll try to keep you posted on anything that happens but I’d like to thank everyone for their congratulations and visits.  We look forward to more visitors and (hint, hint) more meals to help us out, (thank you Ro, since Marcia was the meal planner at church for people who needed meals, no one is doing it for her, something we overlooked and hope somebody will pick up.)

Anyway peace to you all and thank you very much for everything.

Rob

Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations

Chef and best selling author Anthony Bourdain prepares to take us on another tasty romp around the world in the Travel Channel’s newest season of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations beginning July 7th at 10 p.m . If any of the previous seasons are any indication, this season will once again please the culinary curiosity in us all. Unlike some travel food shows Chef Bourdain takes great pains to roam off of the beaten path to discover a country’s or a region’s native dishes and along the way does what he can to take part in the indigenous culture’s traditions.

Bourdain narrates his journeys with wit and reverence. In each episode he takes the time to explain an abbreviated version of the area’s history casting light on how the local food developed into its current cuisine. Avoiding the tourist traps, Bourdain lives up to the Travel Channel motto “Be a traveler, not a tourist” and dines in such diverse places as the African Savannah, local pubs and the occasional fine dining restaurant. Along the way he has a “fixer” in tow to guide him to the right spots which more often than not includes little mom and pop joints and the ubiquitous hole in the wall. Every so often he is even invited to take part in a normal family dinner which can be as small as the average nuclear family to as large as an entire village/community.

As we are shown the world through the eyes of this adventurous chef, it’s hard not to notice how deeply ingrained food is in a culture. With a McDonald’s or a Burger King only a couple of miles in either direction from most people, we have a tendency to sacrifice the importance of the meaning of a meal for convenience. No Reservations reintroduces us to the importance of food in society. For much of the world a meal serves not just to nourish us, the meal ministers to people as they draw together as a family or community to sit and talk about the day or about important past/current events.

As I watch I can’t help but draw a correlation between how the world celebrates its diverse cuisines and the communion table. As a church, we draw together as a family to celebrate and remember an important event in our collective history. In communion we are joined by all of our church family around the world; past, present and future. In No Reservations, we see how love is put into each dish and that same love is dispersed to all who partake in it, much the same way as the love God has for each one of us is commemorated and diffused into each one of us as we participate in our various communion rites.

In summation, Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations presents us with a world that we may have forgotten; a world where food is more than a meal but is the heart and soul of a culture. As Bourdain continues his travels to exotic locals and the dive right around the corner perhaps we can get in touch with the importance of the shared meal again and maybe it will help us to approach the communion table with a renewed body, mind and spirit.

*As a side note, I would like to say that if you can find it on TV or maybe pick up the second season on DVD, please watch the Beirut episode. While the No Reservations crew was in Lebanon a couple of Israeli soldiers were kidnapped by Hezbollah sparking a wave of Israeli attacks and Lebanese counterattacks. The crew was able to catch on film the celebration of children in the streets upon hearing the news of the captured soldiers, the nervousness and trepidation of guides who’s family whereabouts were unknown, the partying of Lebanese young folks as they try to ignore the small war happening around them, even the dramatic bombing of the Beirut airport. It’s a fascinating look into people’s reactions to fear and strife and also peers into the hearts of a people who are surrounded by violence.

  Dark Floors: The Lordi Motion Picture – A Review

While I’m not a huge fan of horror movies or the Finnish metal band Lordi, I was slightly intrigued when I saw that a movie had been made with the band as supporting characters. Costing nearly three million euros to produce, this was not meant to be a cheap flick. The plot revolves around a father (Noah Huntley from 28 Days Later) and his autistic daughter (Skye Bennett, Torchwood) trying to escape from a hospital after an MRI goes wrong. Upon entering an elevator with four other people they become trapped in the dark hallways of what is now an empty hospital. Dead bodies litter the floor as the group attempts to make its way to freedom.

In the beginning I was highly impressed with the production value. Special effects and relatively decent acting kept my attention for a while. The movie initially did a great job of making you fear the unseen. You never knew what was going to be around the next corner or what tricky mind game was going to be played next. Unfortunately, my mind began to wander as things began to fall apart.

The Lordi band members in their full stage garb began popping up and it was at that moment that I feel the movie became forced. The monsters were un-original; they seemed like band members trying to scare people. Also I quickly began to realize that I’d seen this plot before in the Silent Hill series of games and the Silent Hill movie. The characters were never fully developed so you weren’t given the chance to bond with them in a way that made you care about them or their predicament. And come to think of it, you never really discover the reason behind why their monstrous tormentors were chasing after them.

For all of the imperfections in this movie, there was one main theme that kept my interest throughout. We learn early on that the only way out is for the father to sacrifice his daughter by giving her over to their pursuers so that he and the other people might live. While I’ve heard THAT story before, I’m always interested in how it’s going to be interpreted by others on the big and small screens.

For me, it helps to have an actor play out the anguish of a parent mulling over the painful decision of having to give up their child for the well-being of others. I think that it allows us to see through the material world that we live in, a spiritual truth that at times may be difficult for us to grasp. We all know that the sacrifice that God gave through his Son was not an easy one for either being. The choice was inherently difficult for both. We have often seen the trials and anguish that Jesus was put through but the pain of the Father can be subtly displayed for us through movies such as this.

While not the perfect movie, Dark Floors does have a few redeeming values. From the intensity of the fright in the beginning of the movie to the spiritual lessons it attempts to convey, this movie keeps itself afloat long enough for you to finish it and continue to ponder how you yourself would react to situations such as this.

Today, Titus and I went shopping at Costco, stopped in the food court and grabbed hotdogs and pizza.
As we were leaving I told Titus that we were going to Reese and Malcolm’s house (Maurice’s house, those are his children). As we pulled out of the parking lot I thought about what I need to do to be more humble and how to be a better servant.

As I was driving down 86th Street approaching Zionsville Rd. I pulled up at a stop light next to a lady in an SUV. I just happened to notice a small whisp of white come out from under her front right wheel well. I figured it would be nice of me to let her know that maybe her car was overheating. I rolled down my water and hollered at her, “You’re steaming!” Rather annoyed, she rolled down her window and asked what I’d said and once again I told her that she was steaming. When she asked me where she was steaming from (the white whisps were still rather hard to see) I looked as far as I could into her wheel well (I was sitting in my car after all) and noticed that there was a fire and fiery stuff was dripping onto the ground.

I looked at her, my eyes wide in shock, and said, “OH SHIT! Your car’s on fire!”

She yelled back, “OH SHIT! What do I do?!”

Thinking quickly I yelled at her to pull into a relatively empty parking lot next to some small restaurants and a liquor store. I dipped into her lane and followed her into the parking lot. I jumped out of the car and could see plainly that the fire had started to get a whole lot worse. Greyish-tan smoke was starting to billow out from under her hood at this time. Someone pulled up to us at this time and I hollered at him, “Call 911!” then took off to the closest restaurant. I ran in the front door of El Rodeo and asked the first person I saw if the restaurant had a fire extinguisher. They rushed to get me one and I ran back outside to the burning SUV.

By this time, flames were coming out the sides of the fire walls of the wheel wells and flames were shooting up the windshield. The lady that had been driving the SUV had grabbed Titus from out of my car while I was inside and moved him further away from her burning wreckage of a car. I ripped the pin out of the fire extinguisher and stuck the hose right through the fire wall and pulled the trigger. Bright Yellow powder shot out of the nozzle puffing out through the seams of the engine hood. The fire was stubborn and wasn’t giving an inch, I had to start moving a little back because it was getting hotter and I couldn’t get the nozzle directly on the fire anymore. I continued to spray and pray for some success but it didn’t come. I heard the fire engines beginning to approach (at which Titus began yelling, “Wee-oo, wee-oo, wee-oo”) and backed away from the fire to let the pros do their job. The last bit that I could do was move my car out of the way so that it wouldn’t interfere with the fire fighters.

I went and sat down next to the SUV’s owner (her name was April) and figured I’d just keep her company. I knew that if I was in that position, I wouldn’t want to be alone. I felt like crying for her. I asked her if she’d need a ride anywhere. She didn’t. Her husband worked just down the road and she would go home with him. Titus kept her company and kept her spirits up. He knew she was sad and gave her a hug. I snapped some pictures with my phone of the firemen putting out the fire and destroying her car in doing so. I figured it would be good for her for insurance purposes. I let her know that I could send them to her phone, she looked up at me, sadness in her eyes and said, “I don’t have insurance.”

My heart sank, I didn’t know what else to do for her. I turned my head away as I fought back a tear. Myself, Titus and April sat in silence and watched the fire fighters do their job. As it came under control and they began to clean up their hoses I said, “I’m so sorry. Isn’t there anything I can do for you?” She shook her head and looked out to her car again.

She sighed and said, “You know, I’m just glad you stopped me. My car was on ‘E’ and I was on my way to Speedway (a gas station) to get some gas. The car was making some noise and I figured I’d look at it while I was filling up. I’m glad you told me something was wrong before I got to that point or before I decided to just go on the highway.” In a way that put it all into perspective. The results could have been disastrous if she’d gone to fill up her tank while her car was on fire. It would have been bad enough had she been tooling down the highway with her car a flaming mess but to add gasoline into the equation is a recipe for catastrophe.

I’m not trying to make this bigger than it’s supposed to be but I believe the Holy Spirit did put me in a position to help (not that God caused the fire but that God used me to help that lady). It really was a humbling experience for me.

Titus loved it too. He got to see fire trucks and firemen do their thing today. We had originally planned to go to an event where you pay $5 and your kid can climb around fire trucks and police cars but there’s always a bajillion kids at those things and your kid has to share. There are never enough bodies to field all the questions that your own kid has either. We didn’t get to go to that today because we’d slept in too late but the fire fighters that were there helping us today were more than happy to give Titus the first-class treatment. He got to put on their helmets and play with their safer equipment. They even let him sit in the driver’s seat and press all the buttons that he wanted to. He even got to make the siren go off. The firemen posed for pictures with him and showed him all over the place, they showed great patience and answered all of his questions (and he had a ton of them). They even gave him his own red fire hat with “Fire Chief” written on it, which he has worn all day long. He even took it to bed with him.

As neat as I thought it was and as glad as I was to be a servant rather than be served on, Titus made my day. When he got home he told Marcia all about his fire fighter adventure. I began by asking him, “Do you want to tell mommy what happened today?” he looked at her, smiled and said, “Daddy saved the day!” Once again, I feel humbled.

This is why I don’t write poetry, cause I suck at it. Here is a poem I wrote after looking at some titles for blogs that I’d typed up. I thought to myself, “Hey, self, that looks like a poem in the making.” So I did a little editorial work to it and added some stuff and thought I’d give this poetry thing a try. Let me know what you think, seriously, I want to know if I’m hurting the world by writing tripe like this.

Longing for your company again
It’s been lonely without you
Don’t know what to do next
Just sit here and wait for you to call

But you don’t

It feels different this time
We’ve lost touch for so long
I need your help again
I think I can trust you now

I’m sorry

I know you’ll pick up when I call
All I have to do is finish dialing
It’s so much easier when you move first
I think I can hear you breathing

You’re so quiet

Sometimes I think I hear you whisper
Gossamer beating against the air
Was that your shadow on the wall?
If I squeeze my eyes shut, I can see you

I can’t focus

Was that you calling my name?
No, it’s just my imagination right?
One day we’ll see eye to eye
The fire will eventually smolder

There are times in everyone’s lives that they stock of where they are, what they’ve done and where they are going. About a year ago I’d gotten into quite a deep depression because I was taking stock of my life every couple of hours and coming up wanting. Thankfully my life began to get some traction again and I don’t spend the majority of my days lamenting the path that I’ve taken. Not that it’s not wise to do that every once in a while, just not all the time.
There are times when you also need to take stock of your life spiritually. I learned a long time ago that when we wish to look at how we’re doing in our pilgrimage of faith we need to look at it in snapshots. I cannot compare where I am today with where I was yesterday. I’ll only get disappointed and disheartened. It’s been a long time since I’d done it last and recently it was kind of forced on me.
Someone mentioned something to me recently that really got me to thinking about my growth, or lack thereof, over the last few years. For a while I could look at my life and see consist growth. Then I hit a wall and I pretty much know where that wall was. The problem with it is that at the time I don’t think that I knew that I’d hit a wall.
Maybe it’s due to the fact that I didn’t do any sort of stock taking for awhile. Maybe it’s because I thought that I was doing just fine. I think that I’d achieved that level of intellectual arrogance where I thought it was time to stop learning and time to begin to merely absorb, that the spiritual side of the Christian life had taken a back of the bus seat to theology and life itself. I know that with a job, no school, no one to really talk to about spiritual matters and the problem with the pain killers had lent to the neglect of my spiritual life.
Examining my pilgrimage I’ve come to discover that there are plenty of things that are lacking in my life. I think about Galatians 5:22 and the Fruits of the Spirit (which I’m thinking about doing a small series on) and how my life has not seen an increase in or is completely missing many of things in that passage. I’ve been trying to think of why these things are missing in my life, what it means and what needs to be done to change.
I know that I’m not content. I know that things need to move forward. I know I long for the old days when it used to come so easy. Maybe this is just another part of the growing process. Maybe this is the spiritual equivalent of moving out of the house and realizing that your parents were right. I don’t know and I won’t pretend to know. But I’ll try to keep you informed and maybe someone else can join me in the same sort of examination and we can grow together. The invitation is there, I’m willing to start down a new path in my journey and I’d love some company.

 Battle for Haditha – A Review

On November 19^th, 2005 a tragedy occurred.  A roadside bomb in Haditha, Iraq (located in the Al Anbar province) exploded, killing one U.S. Marine and injuring two others.  What happened next is still shrouded in controversy.  It is alleged by some that the remaining Marines may have sought retribution for their slain comrades and went on a rampage killing 24 and wounding 2 (15 of those that died were civilian non-combatants including a 1 year old).  A few Marines claim that they had received small arms fire from one of the houses and moved in to clear the area.  We may never know the true story of the events from that day but writer/director Nick Broomfield (Kurt & Courtney, Biggie and Tupac) and first time writer Marc Hoeferlin (Ghosts) deliver to us an accounting of what may have happened on that fateful day and give us a peak into the lives of people who must deal with the realities of war.

From beginning to end, Battle for Haditha gives you the feeling that you are watching a documentary.  While the characters are fictionalized, the people they are meant to portray are all too real:  A Marine who keeps a picture of his kids in his helmet to remind him of why he’s fighting, a young couple attempting to live normal lives amidst the chaos of war, an aging insurgent (who is an ex-Iraqi Army officer) who plants a bomb because he needs money and for the love of his country not for the stereo typical religious reasons.  Each of these people could have been as real as your next door neighbor. 

Unlike other war movies of late, Battle for Haditha delivers its message without getting preachy.  You can feel the impact of a war on everyday people where there are no bad guys and no good guys.  Everyone is doing what they do for love of country and the belief that what they are doing is right.  Too often movies have demonized one side or the other in its attempt to make a point or to drive home an emotional impression.  Here we are given a story in which both Marines and insurgents are shown as victims of circumstances out of their reach. 

Patriotism and love for ones country is okay, even virtuous, but at times we forget that those we are fighting also love their country and do what they feel is best for it and their families.  If we were placed in the same position we may react the same way, using any means necessary to force out someone we may perceive as an occupier.  While it may not be popular to sympathize with your enemy in this way, we are called to love our enemies and one of the first steps to loving them is understanding that they are human just as we are and they feel just as we do.

 A final point that I’d like to stress is that Battle for Haditha illustrates, almost poetically, the fact that violence begets violence.  Each violent act, from the moment of the initial IED blast to a tape of a young girl who survived the Marine assault on her home being shown to a group of insurgents, creates a ripple effect in which more people become victims. This adds exponentially to those who wish for vengeance and retribution, continuing the cycle of killing and destruction.  Every one of the characters deeply wishes for peace and longs for the time when the world seemed safer.  This is what they fight for, this is why they are doing what they do but it’s a sad oxymoron:  fighting for peace.  We see that a radical break from the cycle of violence is sorely needed and it takes a God-given courage to be the one to turn the other cheek.

Well, today went really nicely.  It was actually planned out and surprisingly all of the things we’d put together were also pulled off.

Early in the day we ran out to Clearwater Beach, about an hour and a half away.  Along the way, we stopped at Costco and picked up a brand new camera to replace the one that met its unfortunate demise at Gatorland.  As Marcia pulled into the Costco parking lot, I saw the grand vision of a Fatburger!  I nearly passed out as memories from my earlier years in California came flooding back.  I probably would have peed a little had it been a Tommy Burger or an In ‘n’ Out but Fatburger would do just fine!  After eating my King Fatburger and buying a Manchester United baseball hat we were on our way to the beach.

Powdery white sands, crystal clear ocean waters, huge sand banks that stretched far out into the ocean, cool sea-born breezes.  This is what I had to put up with for hours.  Damn that ambrosial Nature!  Titus and Marcia ran out into the cool briny water as Sue searched the shallows for seashells.  Me?  I hijacked a rented beach tent from some people who had recently vacated it and cracked open a book.  Every once in a while I’d wade out about ten to twenty yards (the water still not coming any higher than my knees) and watched as Titus tried to build castles in the sand.  I also took some time to call up Mark Johnson in his cold, wet hell of an Iowa and leave a voicemail saying:  “Hey Mark, just calling to let you know I’ve got my feet buried in powdery white sand, it’s a nice warm day with a cooling breeze as I look out over the crystal blue ocean.  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”  and hung up.  I’ll save Mark the breath and say it myself, I’m a bastard.

Titus more than loved the beach and I more than loved the fact that he spent a whole lot of time tuckering himself out by running and handing random people handfuls of sand.  He also dirtied himself up with a new game he invented.  You remember making snow angels as a kid?  Well, Titus decided to make himself some sand angels.  Probably the cutest thing he did the entire time we were there (other than get buffeted by the waves in his innertube and his Little Nemo life vest [fins and all]) was to pick up handfuls of that cool powdery goodness and run to toss it back into the ocean.  It reminded me of a story I once heard about a teacup and a child trying to empty the sea.

Anyway, even though I spent most of the time reading, I couldn’t help but ponder what it must have been like in the old days.  I’m talking about the days before there were even a Thirteen Colonies.  Now we collectively use the beach as a place of recreation and enjoyment, whereas in the times gone by, it was something used for transportation and sustenance.  It’s not like the indigenous peoples of America would pack up the entire village for the day and head out for a relaxing time in the surf.  Often times people would hunt for fish in the ocean or paddle their way to another location.  The beach was a place to be feared and respected as well as loved.  My how times have changed.

After the beach, we had to rush home to make it to the Pirate Adventure Dinner in Orlando.  We’d chosen to do this over Medieval Times simply because there is a MT nearer to us in Chicago.  Titus had a blast as he watched the pirates buckle their swashes and yo ho ho!  In the middle of dinner he started climbing over me and said, “I go talk to the pirates daddy, I be back.”  All night long he wanted to go visit the pirates and talk to them.  After the experience was over, Titus got to talk to our Red Pirate and got his picture taken with him.  He also got a picture with the princess and the Blue Pirate.  He could have cared less about the pirate, he wanted him some of that sweet princess action. 

Well I’m back here at the hotel and for tomorrow we’ve got planned a trip to the Kennedy Space Center and the worlds largest indoor play place at a McDonalds.  We were able to salvage some photos from the broken camera so I’ll post those as well.  If anyone knows how to send the pictures on your phone to your email, I’d greatly appreciate it.

Paradise.  Simply paradise.

It’s another warm day with cool breezes here in Florida.  It’s just about 6:45 p.m. and I’m sitting on the veranda writing this blog as I look out over the dark blue waters of Lake Cecile. 

We began our morning at 8:30 running downstairs for the complimentary waffles and pancakes.  Yum!  The plan was to see if the forecasted thunderstorms would come rolling in.  If so, we’d head to Clearwater Beach and spend the day there.  If not, we’d go to Gatorland and let Titus run wild checking out all of the fascinating animals there.  Thankfully the clouds broke right before noon, so we packed it up and headed out to the ‘gator park.  We immediately walked the trail called The SwampWalk and I couldn’t help be reminded of the Black Forest from the speeder bike scenes in Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.  It was so thick with foliage that you literally couldn’t see after a couple of yards out.  On the swamp walk alone we were able to see snakes, frogs, turtles and one alligator. 

We were able to sit down and eat at Pearl’s Smokehouse and Marcia and I sampled the alligator nuggets and smoked alligator ribs.  YUM!  Gator is good!  Granted, poor little Titus was freaked out by the whole thing of eating alligators so we had to tell him that the alligator nuggets were actually chicken nuggets.  You’d think I’d have some guilt over decieving a gullible three year old who has put his ultimate trust and love in me, but dammit, I just spent seven dollars on those gator nuggets and he was going to eat them!  You’re damn right I’d con my kid like that…for crying out loud that’s almost ten whole dollars! 

After we ate, we went to go see crocodiles from around the world.  The Nile River Crocodiles and the Salt Water Crocodiles from Australia were amazingly huge.  I kept thinking of dinosaurs as they lumbered about from one place to another.  I also found it amusing inventing new ways to keep Titus on the path we were supposed to be walking on.  Everytime he would near a chained-off section I would simply tell him that alligators were going to eat him if he climbed over the chain.  Needless to say after the first two, he went nowhere near the chains for fear of being taken into a death-roll.  I’m a terrible father.

At the end of the crocodile trail a special show was going on where the staff were feeding whole chickens to the alligators by making them leap from the water.  Titus got to see one but we had come too late to see anymore, fortunately I kept my ears open as the crowd began to scatter and heard the emcee say that they were going to be feeding the giant tortoises next.  Knocking over as many octogenarians and seven year olds as I could, I made sure Titus was right up front for this one.  For five dollars Titus and I got to walk in and feed these 500 lb., 90 year old giant tortoises all by ourselves.  He thought it was the neatest thing feeding the lumbering giant a huge carrot, as he kept saying in that high pitched sweet voice of his, “You wan’ da cawwot?  You wana eed da cawwot?”

Unfortunately as we were entering the enclosure, Marcia was handing me the digital camera.  I was trying to listen to the special instructions that the trainer was giving us (cuz lord knows it was all Greek to Titus) so as Marcia held out the camera for me to take, I didn’t notice that she’d left the cord wrapped around her wrist.  When I grabbed it, it didn’t come smoothly off of her wrist and ended up crashing to the ground.  Now our multi-hundred dollar camera doesn’t work, and just at a time when Titus was going to do something adorable.  I hope my camera phone was good enough.

Titus got to play in a giant water park and got to see more turtles.  We got a photo of the family with my mother in-law holding a large constrictor and me and Titus holding up a juvenile alligator.  He got such a kick out of it that he burst into tears when we told him that he couldn’t keep holding the gator or the snake.  Truth be told, I was too cheap to pay for another picture which would have allowed him to hold the animals for a little while but dammit!  That would be MORE than ten dollars!  Instead I enticed him away with turkey hot dogs which we used to feed the alligaors up close and personal 

After engorging the alligators and flamingos on all the rest of my money we headed out back for the hotel.  Before we left Titus threw a big tantrum collapsing on the concrete more than once, burying his big head in his tiny little hands, all because the coke he was drinking fell and broke on the ground.  Anyway, Marcia is wanting to go to IHOP or Sizzling Grill or something like that for dinner so I need to go.

 The Hood – A Comic Review

As of late, Brian K. Vaughan has become my favorite comic book writer.  Runaways, Pride of Baghdad, Y the Last Man:  all are fantastically written comics based on even more fantastic ideas.  The Hood is another comic to add to this list of new favorites.  This is a comic about a young man, who for a lack of a better term is a “hood”, named Parker Robbins.  Parker is a petty criminal trying to eek out an existence for himself and his pregnant girlfriend any way he can.  This isn’t to say that he’s being noble for the sake of his relationship;  he sleeps around with whores and lies to the mother of his child about having jobs.  He’s kind of a slimy jerk.

In the process of trying to heist some goods from a waterfront warehouse, he happens upon a demonic creature.  Believing that he has dispatched the horror he steals its boots and hood (the other reason behind the title).  Only later does Parker discover that the clothing he recently boosted off of an incapacitated demon hold magical powers.  The boots allow Parker to fly while the hood grants him invisibility.  This defining revelation now sets the stage for the rest of the book.

Vaughan’s genius in writing lies in taking a story we are all familiar with and twisting it.  The twists that he adds to any of his stories aren’t unbelievable, it’s not like they come out of nowhere.  In fact his twisting of the familiar is that which makes his stories more realistic.  Most of us are accustomed to tales which involve normal people discovering super powers then using those powers for good by fighting those who prey upon the innocent.  The twist that Vaughan lends to the character of Parker Robbins is that once Parker realizes what he can do, he uses it to his advantage in committing and getting away with crimes.  This new found power is used for evil, not good.

Aside from the fact that this book is purely and simply a good read, it forces us to take a look at what we have been given and what we do with it.  Receiving a gift seems to be a good test of character.  Many of us don’t use our gifts, whether material or spiritual, always with the benefit of others in mind.  Thinking of material gifts, many of us have made the statement, “If I won the lottery I’d…” and finish it off with donating money to the church, an orphanage, our families, etc.  We insist that we’d use the money for good.  But let’s face it, when we have an excess of money now, we are more than likely going to spend it on something that we want. 

Spiritually speaking some of us are given gifts by God for the benefit of the church and the benefit of all mankind.  Unfortunately we often times horde these gifts to ourselves instead of sharing with others.  We shy away from the responsibility that said gift brings us.  Too often when a gift is bestowed upon us, we don’t use it to uplift people around us.  Our first thought is for ourselves.  The gift merely accentuates the behaviors and the activities we’ve been carrying on with the entire time. 

The Hood is a good, though extreme, illustration of this.  I’m nowhere near saying we are all going to become criminals when given a gift from God.  I’m merely exhorting us to think about what the gift has become under our control.  What have we done with it?  Who has benefited from our newfound talents and treasures?  Maybe when we discover that we’ve been granted a gift from above we should take stock of our priorities and revamp them if necessary.