Gay Indiana Jones

My friend Josh made an observation recently that I have dubbed the "Gay Indiana Jones Effect."

Allow me to backtrack a little.

Two weekends ago I took a motorcycle safety course.  This course will allow me to go the the DMV and add a motorcycle endorsement to my driver's license (for those keeping score at home, I will soon be legal to drive a vehicle with two, four, and six wheels).

Why do this, you may ask?

Enter the "GIJE".  Driving a motorcycle is cool.  It's a bit rebellious and adventurous.  But the reason I am getting my motorcycle license is to fly to Maine for my next Fall Fling (my annual autumnal get-away).  So stated in "GIJE" terms, my description would start with an adventurous beginning, and take a slightly more feminine turn at the end: "I'm flying to Maine to ride a motorcycle along the coast...so I can see the fall colors."

Or take my new hobby, collecting butterflies.  Ideally, I would only dry and mount specimens I myself have caught (like the ones pictured here).  But there are some really big, really beautiful butterflies that can only be found in places like Indonesia or South America.  Once again, the "GIJE" would sound something like this: "I'm going to hike the Amazon rainforest over the summer...so I can catch butterflies."  (This is a fictitious example.  I have no actual plans to complete such a trip.)

While this is a somewhat humorous take on my varied interests, it is A) less than sensitive to homosexuals who seem to take a lot of ribbing for having "feminine" interests, and B) a hollow understanding of The Renaissance Man (of whom I take Henry Jones, Jr. to be one).  The picture above is one of my favorites of Indy, showing his more studious side.  [IF ONLY I could have that entire outfit, I think I would die happy!  And believe me: I understand that such a statement may only add fuel to the fire in regard to my "metrosexuality" or whatever short-sighted title one would give it.]  Jones was a college professor (of archeology), an explorer and adventurer, and a ladies man.  Those attributes combined to make him one of the greatest heroes in cinema.  He loved the romance of Venice (see "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade").  He spoke several languages and was a genius of history.  But no one ever called him a "nerd."  Maybe I'm making a false comparison between myself and a fictional movie character, but I don't feel like any single term should be applied to a person with eclectic tastes and activities.  If you saw me in a weight room and observed what I ate throughout the day would you say I'm a nerd with a hint of meat-headedness?

I guess I just resent the insinuation that "artistic"="girly".  Or the fact that people who see me dressed a certain way will ask what I do for a living and when I reply that I am an art teacher they say, "Ahh...now it all makes sense" (this actually happened twice in the past month, the most recent being at the banquet shown above.  Now, granted, seersucker, a bow-tie and white shoes is a bit daring....).  As if they, seeing me dismount my bicycle after riding to school wearing tennis shoes, athletic shorts and a cut-off, would then looked confused and say, "Hmmm....art teacher?  I don't see it."

This has turned into a bit of a rant.  It is not a new idea: don't judge a book by it's cover...the whole is greater than the sum of its parts...etc., etc.  I guess I just want people to deem me "unquantifiable" and stop trying to pigeonhole me into this or that box.  Or give me the title Polymath.  I could live with that.

And now to totally shred any credibility connected to what I just said.

What would you get if you combine all the following hairstyles?

Quiff

Mullet

Pompadour

Elephant's Trunk (Pompadour Variant)

The Vanilla Ice

I know you can't tell that it's long in the back, but the sides are shaved, the back of the head is left long, the top is long and alternates between the elephant's trunk and the pompadour (see motorcycle picture above).  I don't have a name for it, but it is slowly going to become more like The Vanilla Ice.  It is my amusing diversion for the end of the school year, evolving by a three-step process and culminating in a completely ridiculous hairstyle for finals next week.  Stay tuned.
On a more significant note, the banquet in the above picture is called "The Rising Star Banquet" and is hosted by the Keller Chamber of Commerce.  I had never heard of it prior to this year, but it is an event where the top ten individuals of each graduating class (we have four high schools in our district) are recognized and they, in turn, recognize a teacher they consider to have had a significant impact upon them during their schooling.  Jonatan (the bow tie was not coordinated in advance) was one of my brightest art history students last year, and he honored me a great deal by inviting me to the banquet.  It will forever be one of the highlights of my teaching career.

This lengthy post has been brought to you by CHS AP Art History (I've been waiting on the photo emulsion for our silk screen t-shirts to be completely developed.  Hopefully they're ready!)

May Mornings

I was very troubled at the end of April when temperatures were soaring and I thought I was doomed for unending heat over the course of the next six months.  But it turns out there has been a moderate but much appreciated reprieve.  Last week there were some days that could almost be described as cool, and evenings so comfortable and inviting that I was able to smoke (what I fear may be the last for some time) a pipe.
But, OH! the glory of May mornings.  Bright and clear and cool.  They are so enjoyable for biking to work.  On one stretch of my commute I ride beside a field full of wildflowers.  On the way to work the sun is just above the field, sparkling and warming everything it touches, but the air is still cool and sweet.  I do love riding my bike in May.  While the afternoons may warm up enough to cause me to sweat, they are still fairly nice and beautiful.  I know I give Texas a bad rap most of the time in regard to its weather, but since it was on my mind I thought I should stop and celebrate these days.

Happy "Hit By a Car" Day

One year ago today I was hit by a car.  I am amazed to realize that even though it was "only" a broken bone, I am still experiencing some residual effects of the accident a year later.  Even just visually, you can see the scars from the screws that were inserted, but the large red blister of the middle picture (from where the broken bone almost pushed through the skin) still remains as a discolored dent in my leg.  I did just recently sign a settlement, though, so I'm glad to say that the medical bills and the healing are all behind me.  The more I use my leg in strenuous activity the more normal it begins to feel.  All in all, things worked out really well for me.  

So today at lunch we celebrated with cinnamon rolls and rejoice that on this day a year ago things could have gone much worse, but by the grace of God I'm still here, alive and well.  

What the Heck Happened to My Blog?!

To quote Han Solo: "I'm out of it for a little while and everyone gets delusions of grandeur!"  I came to post on my blog and it has changed dramatically, looking all fancy and professional now.  Ah well...

There's almost so much to post about that I didn't blog this evening.  If I had my way, I would include pictures and links and make it super interesting to read.  But since I haven't posted in a some time, and since I don't have all day to write, I'll keep it simple.  

It probably comes as no surprise to the readership of this blog that I have many varied interests.  It should also be noted that within the past two weeks I finalized my divorce after 12 years of marriage.  There has been a song that I have repeatedly listened to throughout the separation and divorce: John Mayer's, "I'm Gonna Find Another You."  Near the end of the song he sings, "I'm gonna do some things you wouldn't let me do."  And I find myself in that stage.  I have cleared out furniture I didn't like.  I plan to move things around.  I've had an antique piano in my possession for years, but never got around to refinishing it like I said I would.  Now, knowing that I can bring it into the house when I'm done, I have been working to strip old, white paint off the beautiful, deep maroon finish.  Of course, because I have varied interests, and more so because I'm really good at starting cool, new projects, but really, really bad at finishing them, I also went out chasing butterflies one day and have happened upon a new pastime.  Butterfly catching and collecting is fun, because I can do it with the kids and they love it too.  Plus, I don't have to worry about getting approval to hang a butterfly collection in the house, so I've gone after it full force.  I've even gone so far as to order some rare butterflies online.  So I'm excited about the piano, the butterflies, the new room (that will probably have to wait until the summer to be completed) and just a chance to do something I enjoy free of the concern, "Is this okay with Heather?"

What had happened, however, and I say this with great shame, is that in the celebration of my new-found freedom I neglected to nurture the two most important relationships in my life: those with my sons.  I discovered that Aydan was very angry with me, and I hadn't spent much time with either he or Brennan.  So last week I took each boy out for ice cream on a separate night.  The two evenings were as different as the boys I spent them with.  Brennan talked nearly the whole time, telling me an entertaining story with minute details and a story-teller's flair.  Aydan, when questioned, responded with, "I don't know," "Sure," and "I guess."  I pushed him until the point that headway was made.  I told him that keeping emotions inside didn't help one to sort through them, and I gave him permission to be mad at me and to say whatever he needed to without thinking it would hurt my feelings.  He finally exploded and told me, "You want to know how I'm feeling!?!!  I feel shaken up and torn down."  My heart broke for him again.  He absolutely hates the divorce (and why shouldn't he?!), but it was starting to manifest itself as hatred for the people involved.  After he asked some really good, really tough questions, it came out that he still blamed me for the divorce.  I was able to answer most of his questions, and (upon the good advice of my mother) tell him that my heart was also broken, and that divorce was not something I wanted.   I have always tried to avoid blaming Heather or ruining their perception of their mother, but I finally had to tell my boys that I was not solely to blame in this mess.  I think it helped Aydan a great deal to talk about how he was feeling.  

Also on the good advice of my mother, and in large part to correct the imbalance of time spent with the boys, I have affirmed the family things we used to do and instituted a week of just "us" time.  Two weeks ago I pulled each boy out of their bed (after a particularly hard evening), brought them to my room, and we just snuggled and fell asleep together.  This week, we are doing something fun all together each night.  No friends.  No distractions for me.  Just us.  Unfortunately tonight I had spring league basketball for my girls team, but afterward we came back, I watched them fish, then we made (and ate) cookies and played a board game.  The cookies were so good the boys wished that Heather could have some...so we ran a plate over to her.  The biggest thing, though, was that I could actually FEEL us getting closer.  I watched a transformation take place, with the bickering and name-calling being replaced by politeness, consideration, and fun.  I've been reading, "Keep the Siblings, Lose the Rivalry" (after having completed Cartmell's, "Respectful Kids") and was reminded that time together to model and teach living-together skills is fundamental to healthy sibling relationships.  I loved watching my boys have fun together.  And it goes without saying that I felt extremely blessed to be having a blast right alongside them.  

There have been dark days.  I cannot deny that fact.  But more recently there have been beautiful, bright spots.  There have been joy-filled moments and days.  Sure, I've been busy, trying to handle everything that comes with running a home.  But I've also been blessed.  As my friend's father told her as he helped move her out of her home (she is finalizing her own divorce), "There are still great things ahead."  

Eve

Christmas Eve is exciting.  There is anticipation.  It's joyful.  There are times spent gazing at lights on the tree, sipping a warm drink, sitting beside a fire.  It's beautiful.

Holy Saturday is something of an "eve."  It is dark and painful.  It is somber and worshipful.  We pause, waiting again with those who mourned over the dead Christ, contemplating the hopelessness of life without Him.  But even in the darkest moment, we now know there is life and hope.  This sorrowful eve breaks forth in boundless joy when the sun/Son rises on Easter.  It's beautiful.

Hey...even all Hallow's Eve is fun.  There is candy and mayhem, friends and neighbors.  On the best Halloweens there might even be a cool breeze, a warm cider, some sweet treats, perhaps even a little scare. It's beautiful in its own way.

But tonight is an eve I've never experienced before.  What will tomorrow feel like?  I certainly don't see joy and beauty.  Finality, yes.  Perhaps a sense of release.  But there is no season for this; no accompanying ritual or meal.  It is simply the full realization of "not the way it's supposed to be."  At the same time, I don't feel sad.  Maybe I've become numb.  Or perhaps this has to come in order to be able to live without constant pain and longing.

Tonight is still and cool and quiet.  Tomorrow I will no longer be a married man.

The Death of Boyhood

We told our boys today that we are getting a divorce.  They cried.  I held it together until they walked outside, but then I went into my closet and wept bitterly.  I was overcome with sorrow that their tiny hearts had been broken, and one of the most central assumptions of their boyhood had been destroyed.

After I got it together, I went outside and held each one of them, telling them, "It will be okay" as I hugged them.  Aydan's response floored me.
"No it won't, Dad.  You're making the worst decision of your life.  Mom is a great woman.  What happened to all the breakfasts in bed, the snuggling, the forts, the swimming at the lake?"

He walked away and I was crushed.  What could I say?  Should I have corrected him, telling him that it was his mother's mistake, not mine?  He is too young for all the details that led us to this point.  So I watched him walk away, and I prayed with all my heart that I had not just lost my son.  I prayed that he wouldn't harbor bitterness against either of us, and I prayed that the wound he was feeling would slowly heal.  And I mourned silently for the passing of everything his happy boyhood contained and his acute feeling of loss that it was all over.

De-Fluevog and Sip Some Grog for this Pre-Vlog Blog

Some of my art history students encouraged me to record my trip to Europe as a vlog (video blog), and I have to say I wasn't crazy about the idea.  Even as I began my trip--turning the camera on myself and talking to no one in particular--narrating my travels, I felt conceited, awkward, and just plain silly.  I also firmly believed that no one would ever want to watch something so boring as we sitting in an airport, talking about Dramamine.  

And then I showed it to a friend.  

Even in it's raw form, even with it's lack of "interesting" material, the video seemed to captivate.  I even enjoyed watching it and remembering the trip.  It's not fancy, but it is a little bit like coming along for the ride.  For that reason, it's kind of fun to see.  

But I'm not deluded enough to think that I've created a cinematic masterpiece, or that it will become some kind of blockbuster.  I'm just saying that maybe I get it now.  If one has taken an interest in my life then it's an intimate portrait of my past two weeks.  But you'd definitely have to know me to appreciate it, I think.  

On a side note, I'm once again reminded how great my friends are.  I wasn't back in the States more than two hours before Sissney called me, and Josh called to check on my today.  For some reason I was particularly impressed by this.  Both will see me on Monday.  They could have waited until then and asked, "How was your trip?"  But they actually remembered the day I would be getting back AND made a point to call me.  It's easy to say, "I missed you", but stuff like that really shows it.  

I will be working hard to edit the video together, but it will take time.  When it is done, I'll have to figure out a way to make it available to anyone who might like to see.  For now, you might appreciate some of the best pictures from my dear brother Eric's website.  I'll have to write more about the experience and my appreciation for my brother in another post.  Jet lag is still kicking my butt.