Return of J

It's really late, and I should be sleeping right now - but I can't. Been up thinking about the day that just happened.

It started normally enough....a trip to church with the family - but punctuated by the return of someone I hadn't seen in a while. A young man that I mentored a while back - J - walked up to me while we passed the peace during the service. It was good to see him - and he wanted to talk. He was having troubles at home with a sick mom, relationship issues and a life that had seemingly fallen into chaos. He was growing up very fast, but under intense stress for someone so young - so, he had almost given up.

Thankfully, he didn't.

When I met J for the first time, he was participating in a church mentorship program that I was involved in - and so we connected. I went over to his house, met his family and took him out geocaching one Saturday afternoon. We had a great time together - and spoke for a while afterwards about his goals and beliefs. J was a determined athlete that played baseball and football in high school. He was a natural, of sorts. I remember attending one of his high school football games in Vancouver...and how he walked over to me on the sidelines after it was over. I took a photo of him - dressed in a purple football uniform, helmet in his hand.

After that first series of interactions with him, I became a father for the first time - and was focused almost entirely on that and work. I didn't see him much - except for when he would come to church for a visit. Every time I saw him, he kept getting bigger, eventually shooting up past six feet. He had a steady girlfriend and was having success as a college baseball player. Our meetings were glad, sincere and full of promises to call and get together again - maybe go geocaching.

Unfortunately, it never seemed to happen again for us, and life moved forward - as it will.

Until yesterday. After our reunion, we talked in pews and then moved downstairs for more conversation and catching up. He had needed to leave college to help at home, and was struggling to keep things together. It was very rough for him, and it sounded like he needed someone to listen.

There was a silver lining though...something that had brought him back to church that day.

After giving almost giving up, he had received a wake-up call from folks close to him - and decided to start playing baseball again in practice sessions with his old high school coach. From out of these practices (and with some help from a former MLB pitcher whom he had trained with), J has been presented with a chance to work out for some pro baseball scouts on Tuesday. It's a big opportunity that couldn't come at a better time for him and his family.

After our time at church, I invited him over. We went out and made sure he had what was needed to prepare for his chance - and to help his family. A cell phone for important calls, a full tank of gas - and some running money.

It was a gut reaction....a need...and at that moment, I felt like my dad.

Godspeed J.

Budding flowers....not bombs

So here we are again. March has arrived - and with a quickness that always surprises. The daffodils are sprouting out of the earthen pot sitting near our front steps, and the sky is gracing us with longer days and the occasional warm rain shower.

Tomorrow, I'll be marching downtown with some members of my church to remember the 5th anniversary of our adventure in Iraq. I feel a strange numbness to war these days - my anger about it feels worn and ragged and dull. Pressing on against this illegal and immoral act - in the face of mass apathy, devastating personal loss and everyday American living has turned out to be a real challenge. I used to spend my days (especially before fatherhood) railing against what I believe to be a wrongheaded and unelected presence leading our country. When 2004 came and went, it was like adding insult to injury. Would it ever end?

Five years along....I feel empty inside. Like my generation couldn't pull away long enough from the distractions of mid-life to rise up and say "no more of this". Part of me knows that the dice were loaded...the media programmed to disconnect us....and that we would have to do even more than those who protested before us to wake the nation up.

And so I go out again. Maybe it will rain. Maybe it won't.

Spring fling

With the coming of spring, so does the influx of things-to-do.

Alexis is in the beginning phase for the Portland Opera production of "Albert Herring" - and experiencing the time drain of rehersals. Such was the case this past weekend - as she spent the better part of her time preparing for...waiting on...and eventually being called to perform.

Which left Greer and I with a weekend distract ourselves.

Normally, in these situations I hunker down in the homestead, looking to address the pile of home improvement projects that go unadressed during the workweek.


Laundry...laundry...laundry....
Cleaning the basement of eternal clutter...
Hacking through the dead foliage and detritus that fall and winter have deposited...
Evacuating the mouldering pile of junk under the carport/in the garage...

Gahhh....

This usually means that Greer gets to play inside - or immerse himself in the vast collection of 4-year old friendly movies that Dad has on file. "The 7th Voyage of Sinbad", "Veggietales" and anything by Hayao Miyazki or Pixar are the usual suspects. Still....as much as I enjoy seeing him get into certain films, the notion of him not being active and using his little mind to explore outside of the projected image bugs me.

So...we decided to go all out this time. Swimming, OMSI and visiting his Great-Grandmother.

Wanting to squeeze in a little industry on a Saturday morning, Greer accompianed me to Mt. Scott Fuel - a longtime resident on Foster Rd. where he helped load six Presto-logs into the back of the Beetle. My Papa visited this place back in the day, had a small pile of these in the basement that he would use for holiday fires...but we've been using both of our fireplaces this winter, so the Presto-log is back in fashion.

Greer hasn't been by our other Mt. Scott namesake - the community center/pool - for what seemed like ages. He was so jazzed to get back in the water, that he had a hard time waiting for me to check in. An hour or so of splashing around, circling the vortex and riding a waterslide with Dad, he was pruned up and ready to hit the adjacent playground - where he demonstrated his proficiency at sliding down a circular pole attached the big toy. Energy wasn't a problem....

Next up, OMSI and their latest exhibition of Chinese dinosaurs! We had visited here about a month earlier to check out the OmniMax Sea Monsters show. Greer had promised to himself "not to be afraid" of be seabeasties on screen...but he did clutch my arm a few times on that visit. ;-) As for the Chinese dinosaurs this time, I didn't think there would be problem - until Greer noticed an animatronic cousin of the T-Rex on display. One look at that roaring monster - almost killed the deal. Forget all the bones...that moving dino might as well have been real. "That big dinosaur will bite my head!" he said, not moving from his spot. It took almost 20 minutes of coaxing and comforting to get him to enter the room, but even after that - he wouldn't get anywhere near Cousin Rex. I can relate somewhat. My Papa used to talk about my early fascination with horses....and how I would see one at a distance, and yell "Horse! Horse!" - wanting to get close. Of course, as soon as he picked me up and carried me over to the fence, I would crawl out of my skin trying to get away.

That was Saturday.

On Sunday, Greer and I headed out to Bridgeport - where he was content to draw and craft, while I took in the service upstairs. After church, we hit the road for St. Helens and a surprise visit with Nana - Greer's only great-grandparent - at an assisted living facility on the edge of town. Having skipped lunch, we nabbed Burgerville - where Greer wolfed a cheesburger and apple slices with relish. After a brief reminder on "visiting manners" - we headed over and checked in. After a little searching, we found Nana in her room with her feet propped up - reading a book in her easy chair. Since she is almost 90, with memory decline and all that, I was happy that she recognized us both. Greer quickly had her reading some of the books he had brought and we shared photos and some of Greer's artwork as well. He was perfect gentleman all throughout. He even drew up a perfect rendering of his family while balancing his drawing pad on Nana's lap.

It was a good day.

Down South

It's Friday afternoon, and my pal Ira and I have just gotten back from walking the rows at Hollywood Forever - a historic cemetery in the heart of Los Angeles. Many silver screen greats are buried here (Fairbanks, Powers, De Mille, Valentino), about a stones throw from the Paramount lot. It's quiet and serene - a departure from the hustle and flow of Sunset Blvd.

Warm weather is a change - about 70 degrees down here...a vast departure from the rain and wind of PDX. Ira and his roommate are situated in a beautiful old house between Sunset Blvd and Melrose - not far from the heart of film industry. Everywhere you look, there are studios, prop houses and the like. It's a powerhouse of entertainment and self-promotion.

When I flew in on Wednesday with Michael (my PDX friend on this journey) - we jumped into the fray immediately.

In-and-Out burgers where Paris got busted for her DUI. Free-roaming the Beverly Hills Hotel where Britney (and a small platoon of photographers) were lurking. Rolling down Sunset strip and tripping on its surreal opulence. Smoking while sitting in the 405 traffic parking lot.

Welcome to L.A.

Thursday was all about fun. Breakfast at the Griddle (next to the DGA), where all of the staff and patrons are waiting for their close-up. The film tourist mecca of Universal Studios occupied the remainder of the afternoon....with an easy mix of rides, overpriced grub and studio schwag. Despite having lived here for the last five months, Ira had never done the theme park circuit - so it was fun for us both.

Friday has turned into Saturday now....with a trip to the Santa Monica pier and Venice Beach behind us. Ira and I picked up Michael's wife, Amy at LAX (a small driving nightmare) - and then back to Mike's swank hotel - where my circle of immediate friends were together for the first time. The intention to have dinner quickly devolved into creative show-and-tell....and before we knew it, the evening was over. Cheetos, cookies and Coke on the couch - filled the void in lieu of supper.

Sitting at Ira's dinner table now....finally writing in the moment. Much more has happened - mainly having to coordinate coverage for Greer....who came down with a fever while visiting his grandparents. Our fragile family plans got a overhaul as a result...all orchestrated while sitting near the twilight sands of Venice. I'm coming home a little early, and Mr. Dave will be stepping in to watch over Greer while Alex finishes up her Sunday business.

It's nutty....but what's new about that?

The Passing of Greg Corey

It's weird when someone you have that much (ancient) history with dies. I suppose I feel sad, maybe because Greg never really grew up. To me, he's still 16 years old and pushing his luck.

I remember the envy I had - because Greg had all this "freedom". He had access to alcohol, money, etc. Spending the night at his house was like visiting the forbidden land....where you could eat, drink, and smoke as much as you wanted - and there were no parents who cared to bother you. I remember an oversize Bible that sat open on a pedestal near the entryway to his house...and in a moment of self-righteousness....telling my mom that it seemed out of place and hypocritical.

What I didn't tell her about was the Black Velvet I had poured for my junior-high self from the wet bar that lived near the indoor pool....or of the many Playboy/Penthouse mags that I stared at from Greg's stash.