Catching up

I’ve been occupied beyond capacity for the last month. Here’s a few lines to get you up to date.

November 13

Words I hear perpetually at work: He pushed me. I wasn’t talking. Johnny’s bleeding. Can I go to the bathroom? Would you tie my shoes? She took my place. Suzy is crying. Can you button my pants? I didn’t do it.

Words I hear often enough to go back the next day: Can we sing it again? I love that. The drums are so cool. Can I play the guitar too?

An actual conversation I had today. (The names have been changed.)

(The students are in groups all across the front of the room, all of them have instruments, most of them are playing and shouldn’t be at this moment.)

Chuck, “Mr. Fuchtman, Mr. Fuchtman, Mr. Fuchtman, Mr. Fuchtman.” (Fast)

Me, “Please raise your hand Chuck.”

Chuck, “Mr. Fuchtman, Mr. Fuchtman, Mr. Fuchtman.”

Me, “Yes Chuck.”

Chuck, “Frankie is humping me.”

Me, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Chuck, “Frankie is humping me.”

Frankie, “I am not!”

Me, “What do you mean?”

Chuck, “Frankie is humping me.”

Frankie, “I am not.”

Me, (long pause, thankful that the other 25 students are playing loudly enough that no one is hearing this conversation) “Frankie, quit humping Chuck.”

That seemed to resolve the issue.

November 4

All my kids and grandkids are here. It’s beautiful.

After church Mark and Andy took me paint balling. That was fun, and I drove home looking like an Andy Warhol canvas. I opened the door from the garage and found myself face to face with a houseful of friends and family shouting “Surprise.” Scared the hell out of me.

I never had a surprise party before. It was just great fun. If you’re going to turn 50 you should at least do it with friends. I felt like I was 10 years old!

November 1

I turned 50 years old today. My friends at school had a little party at lunch time, and I spoke to all my kids at one point or another. After school I filmed a rehearsal for two hours. Then rushed home to teach lessons until 9:00. No sense slowing down just because I have officially reached old age.

October 16, 2007

Life is full of disappointments – I found out today that sauerkraut has absolutely no nutritional value.

October 13 (or so)

Fried Food

I visited the Texas State Fair for the first time.

I ate as much of the famous fried food I could handle: A Texas Fair Corn Dog, Fried Frito Burrito, Fried Peach Cobbler on a Stick, Mega Texas Nachos, and Fried Cookie Dough. I did not try: Fried Coke, Fried Alligator, Fried Snickers, or Fried Twinkies.

I rode the “Texas Star” which is a huge Ferris Wheel, saw the requisite sheep, cows, horses, and an 800 pound hog. Swine get my vote for the ugliest living being on the planet, and they smell worse. 800 pounds is a lot of ugly.

It seems I can find a Hungarian anywhere. There was a troupe of dancing Hungarians who I watched and then met and practiced my Hungarian with.

I saw several buildings worth of stuff with ribbons on it, and a museum with the world’s tallest card structure – over 17 feet tall made entirely from playing cards. No glue, just gravity. Only in Texas…

Blood Brothers

I fell off my bike Friday on the way to school. Now there is about ½ pound of Tim-flesh smeared all over the intersection of Exchange Parkway and Allen Heights drive. It was a good fall, as falls go – nothing broken, I just got peeled back a little.

I quit dripping blood before school started, but there was no hiding the beautiful, red, new wounds on my arm, hand, and knuckles from my students, (Fortunately they can’t see the huge raspberry on my right butt cheek!) so I had to recount the incident for each new class.

Of course, every young rider has a bike wreck story to tell, all of them much better than mine. By the time I heard all the tales of stitches, broken bones, scraped up body parts, and crashing through fences it was hard to get back to the lesson.

My principal thought it was hilarious, (I agree) Nurse Fry made me promise to slow down, and the staff offered to take up a collection for training wheels.

I’m just looking forward to the night I can sleep on my side again.

All in a Day

The thing about running to school early is that you get to see the sky turn that deep shade of blue which has no name. I love that star-speckled blend of earth and space that washes eternal perspective over my narrow little fretting mind.

The thing about having an all out hoot with 6 years olds singing songs about mashed potatoes and bees with sunburned knees, is you might forget you are 44 years older.

The thing about working a consistent, firm, and unbending discipline plan with Sammy for 5 weeks is that he might decide to become a perfectly behaved music student during class on the 6^th week.

The thing about running the long way home from school after the sun sets is that you might meet a coyote by the woods, and wonder if he and his buddies have eaten yet today.

The thing about harvesting you supper by flashlight in the back yard is it tastes so good right out of the pan.

The thing is, I feel undeservedly favored.

Tim’s bright idea: create an original musical with the entire 4^th grade class.

Today’s reality: Today I met with the group of 4^th graders who’s job it is to create the characters for our musical. The setting is old Texas, during the cowboy times.

Me: Ok, let’s create a character who could be our hero. What are some possible character traits?

Students: Annoying.
Stalker
Wears a RREALLY BIG gun
Takes credit for other people’s ideas
Carries a huge silver shield
Kicks butt

Me: OK, now, let me redirect our focus. Remember, we’re trying to create our hero. Let’s try to think of a real life person, someone we admire and look up to. Not a character from a movie we’ve seen, but a real live person. Someone the audience would be attracted to. Someone who would be an example of the kind of person we would like to be.

Students: Likes dairy products
Shy
Takes credit for other people’s ideas
Puts hexes on people

Me: You know someone who puts hexes on people?

Student: Uhhhhhhh.

Me: And this is your Hero????

Student: Uhhhhhhh.

Students: Mumbles
Reserved
Lonely
Wears a wolf skin hat

Me: You know someone who wears a wolf skin hat?

Student: Uhhhhhhhh.

Me Remember, we are trying to think of personality traits for our hero. Try to think of a real human that you like and look up to. Describe that person.

Students: Mean
Is an alien
Spits when he talks
Has big boots with spikes
Has a mask and a big knife

Me: (thinking) At what point today did I enter this alternate universe?
What happened to the bright little people I met in the classroom?
I’m speaking English, what language are they hearing?

Me: (talking) OK, let’s try another character……

I’m not kidding, these are actual responses that came from the mouths of actual 4^th graders who are responsible for creating the characters for our musical! I did, however, leave out the sparse smattering of insightful and clever ideas that popped out of the mouths of a few students. These young minds will provide some excellent material for our next group to work with, if we can sort through all the completely off the wall garble that predominates the conversation!

If I were King

Concerning my new job:

If I were king I would forbid shoelaces on any feet younger than 2^nd grade.

Every day brings triumph and defeat, success and failure, progress and regression. Sometimes I have enough band-width to step back for a minute and just watch my students. There is no finer sight than the shining eyes of a young person making music.

These Boots are made for Drivin'

I ran home from school this evening as the sun set, my mind ricocheting between past and future: dreams, plans, and assorted imaginings for this year; and memories of friends, colleagues, and students from years past.

I ran under the wide Texas sky, on top of concrete and Bermuda grass, next to countless hunks of metal and gasoline, the only human visible among many thousands of fellow commuters, over the wide, flowing city-river we call Highway 75, past “Bossy Boots Drive,” and I said to myself, “Toto, I don’t think we are in Kansas (or Iowa) anymore.”

Typical tripe and turbid transcriptions

Tim tells tall Texas tales to terrific teachers, totally tracing true transmissions transpiring in Tim’s timeline, tossing tiny, titillating, tidbits tumbling toward those teachers trying to tolerate his typical tripe and turbid transcriptions.

I wrote a letter to my Iowa friends tonight. It started with the “t” stuff above. I’ll try to actually send it tomorrow.

I have some photos of school up, at http://picasaweb.google.com/tim.fuchtman.

My First Week Of School

The first week of school included:

Tying dozens of little shoes

Tears

Learning and forgetting and relearning and reforgetting 750 names

Random hugs at random moments

Remembering never to ask a question to a class of kindergarteners

Texas flora on my desk (We learned the song, “Deep in the Heart of Texas.” Part of the lyric is “The sage in bloom is like perfume.” They didn’t know what sage is, so I bought a sage bush.

Commuting to school ON MY BIKE!!!! WWWWOOOOOOO HHHHOOOOOOO!

Lots of bright, little, shining eyes hearing a banjo played live for the first time (and also trombone, sitar, Irish drum, Mizmar, and others.)

The sound of children singing – which is perhaps the most beautiful sound on the planet

I couldn’t possibly count the times I thought of my former colleagues this week. I’m still trying to attain the example they set for me. And, many, many times I thought of Tim Huisman.

So there it is, I’m back in school and had a great week.

Anticipation

Anticipation. I’m experiencing it.

Like an athlete during the “Star Spangled Banner.” Like an astronaut before lift off. Like a coach before the start of the season. Like an explorer setting out. They all know something remarkable could happen. They all know they have the ability to make something happen. They all know it will require effort, possibly serious discomfort. There will be surprises, good and bad. In the end, if they do their part, they can make something remarkable happen.

So here I stand at the beginning of the school year at Reed Elementary. An athlete has a game, an astronaut a rocket, a coach has his team, and the explorer uncharted territory. I have a school full of bright-eyed children. What a rich opportunity.

If there is any advantage of being nearly 50, it’s that I have seen the results of effort and passion. If I supply the passion, something remarkable could happen - maybe not for everybody, but for some students there could be fireworks. I love fireworks. I hope like anything that I can summon the personal fire to ignite my students this school year.

Craziness leads to Craziness

I rode the Hotter Than Hell 100 on Saturday. It wasn’t that hot – 97 or so…

Craziness leads to craziness. When was the last time you drank two entire bottles of pickle juice? (They have it at the rest stops to keep your legs from cramping due to loss of sodium while sweating like a pig for 5 hours straight.)

This year the HHH 100 was all good. No flat tires, no crazy man diverting us 13 miles the wrong way like last year, my legs felt fine the entire ride. At about mile 98 there is always a big party going on, and people standing there handing out free beer. I always stop and have a beer with them before finishing the last few miles. Don’t worry, there is no Open Container law concerning driving a bicycle.

I don’t know why I like this ride so much. I suppose part of it is the camaraderie. 10,000 people sharing the same road, wind, blazing hot sun, and pickle juice. At that speed, while one’s legs do get achy, you hardly ever get out of breath, so it’s easy to strike up conversations along the way. And bikers work together, forming little groups which draft on each other, and take turns being the lead biker and fighting the wind.

I also like the Texas prairie. It looks so beautiful. Mile after mile of peaceful, rolling prairie with only the sound of the wind in you face. And then, occasionally a line of riders comes whirring up from behind and blows by. That sound, how can I describe it – like a mini tornado. I love that sound. I don’t know why, but my heart-rate goes up, and I feel like a child at the circus when I hear that whooshing rush of air, stirred up by tires and cranks – legs circling in a flowing combination of power and dance and effort and grace. Like a bug to a lamp I find myself attaching myself to the end of the line, inches away from the next bike, eating up miles of burning pavement like a bird on wheels.

Why do I like this ride so much? I don’t know. I suppose it is a break from the normalcy and regularity of day to day life. It’s a little adventure, during which the unusual is the norm: otherwise normal people dressed in spandex shorts; getting up at dark thirty on SATURDAY morning; staying out in the heat of the day; 100 miles; pickle juice; celebrating with Budwiser and sausage on a stick. Craziness leads to craziness.

This ride also gives me a sense of accomplishment. As I wrote in an earlier entry, the highlights of one’s life are often the big things one attempts - things with the possibility of failure. There are 365 days in a year, most of which pass without notice into oblivion, but the one day each year I ride across 103 miles of North Texas prairie remains fresh and vivid in my mind.

Flat, Flat, FINISH!

I haven’t blogged in two weeks, I’m going to try to catch up.

The Pigman went great. Translated that means I finished, and my time was in my goal range.

There were some challenges. For example, as I said before, any successful 70.3 mile triathlon must include a well-engineered eating plan. The cornerstone for mine was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich right after I got out of the water. I had put the sandwich in a baggie and taped it to the crossbar of my bike. So, as soon as I got out of the transition area and started riding I grabbed my sandwich, and then dropped it. I spent the next 100 yards trying to decide what to do. Visions of me limping through the coming 2 hour run motivated me to pull over and run back to my sandwich.

You can imagine the looks from the crowd and the racers as I ran back up the road. I spotted the PBJ on the road and as I reached down to pick it up I saw it had been run over by a bike: twice.

As I ran back to my bike, carrying the flattened hunk of essential nutrition, I came to the conclusion that I had no choice.

As the race continued I was flying along on my bike, feeling like a million bucks (the swim leg went better than I could have imagined) for a total of 4 minutes and 45 seconds, at which time I had a flat tire. I can usually change a tire in 3 or 4 minutes, but my racing heart and fumbling fingers took over, and it took me almost 15 minutes to change the tire. Meanwhile dozens and dozens of racers zoomed merrily by.

The rest of the bike was great. I was immersed in poetic thought as I rode the rolling, lush hills of the Cedar River valley. Eventually I caught up with some other racers and felt like I was part of the race again. I started to get cramps in my legs at the very end of the ride, but managed to hold things together during the run until the long hill at mile 11. Then I had to walk for a while. From there on in my run/walk was uuuugggglllly (I’m not sure which was worse, the pain or the thought of my legs totally cramping up and having to crawl over the finish line) but I did finish, and with a decent time considering my short training time.

Then final leg of the day was driving home. I left the race at about 3:00, and pulled into the garage about 4:00. That gave me about 2 hours sleep before I got up for the first day of district inservice meetings.

Walking in circles?

Today I laced up my racing shoes for the first time in over two years. I run the Pigman in seven days. They say you have to practice everything. I have practiced eating (peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the bike, gel packs on the run), transitioning from swim to bike and bike to run (you might be surprised how hard it is to quickly put socks on wet feet after swimming a mile), drinking from a paper cup while running, running after biking and biking after swimming.

Well, now I have to practice running in my racing shoes. It’s funny how things in life tend to run parallel to each other. The last time I did a triathlon was actually at the same place I’m racing on Sunday: Palo, Iowa. They have two triathlons: a short one in June (the Little Pig) and the long one in August (the Big Pig). That year I ran the Dam to Dam 20K on Saturday and the Little Pig on Sunday.

So, now, within the same week I’ll be back in the classroom and the triathlon course for the first time since I left Iowa. I don’t know if I’m moving forward or wandering in circles but I’m going to give both of them my best shot.

Week of Change

This week was sort of eventful. Here’s how it went. Monday evening I got a call asking if I could come for a job interview at Reed Elementary. Tuesday I had the interview. Wednesday they offered me the job. Thursday I accepted. I start on Monday.

That’s right, I am the new music teacher at Reed Elementary School right here in Allen, Texas. It will be great to be a part of a school community again.

It is a very nice building, I have a very nice room, the administrators seem to be top-flight, and it’s only 5 miles from home.

I spent a fair amount of Thursday and Friday trying to figure out what to do with all my private students, and figure out the curriculum, general approach, and practices the general music staff uses here in the Allen school district.

Next week I’ll be in meetings all day, and also getting my room ready, figuring out a private lesson schedule, take Katy back to college in Pella, Iowa, and do the Pigman Triathlon (70.3 mile distance).

Life can change a lot in one week.

Comet

I rode 60 miles today on my bike. That was a long ride.

I was thinking along the way, that people are, in a way, like comets.

Let’s say a person is the comet, and the sun is God.

A comet, way, way out in space is a frozen hunk of stuff. As the comet nears the sun it warms up. The warmth of the sun and the solar wind begin to thaw the comet, and the inner make-up of the comet begins to come to the surface. It transforms from a frozen rock, invisible, to an amazingly beautiful sight in the sky, with a blazing coma (head) and long magnificent tail. The actual rock of a comet is very small and invisible to us, but the coma and tail of a comet are spectacular and visible for millions upon millions of miles. So, proximity to the sun draws out the beauty of the comet, which, in outer space, is just a plain old frozen rock, invisible to the universe.

So it is with a person. As we draw near to God he draws out the beauty within us, and magnifies it for all to see.

The difference is the comet is irresistibly drawn to the sun by gravity, and a person, even though God is drawing him to himself, can choose to stay out in the far reaches of space, a frozen rock, invisible, incomplete, unfulfilled. Like a seed never planted, never becoming what it was intended to be.

Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. James 4:8

Pigman hopeful

There are two parts to every race – mental and physical.

I’m training for the Pigman Triathlon. I decided to do the race sort of late and so I’m on a pretty accelerated training schedule. Adding lots of miles every week stresses the body, but necessary to prepare for the race. I have been a little worried I would have injury trouble and have to stop. My calves have been sort of sore the last few days, and I was concerned that they might not be able to hold up for my scheduled 17 mile run.

My 17 miler went like this:

Miles 1-10
Physical – felt fine
Mental - worrying my calves would not last for the entire 17 miles;

Miles 11-13
Physical – hot, completely sweated through, legs like rubber
Mental - worrying that my calves would last and I would have to run the entire 17

Miles 14-15
Physical – everything hurts A LOT
Mental - regretting telling everybody that I was going to run 17 so that I would have to
actually go through with it

Miles 16-17
Physical – ugly, very ugly
Mental – increasingly sunny, so happy to be completing the run

I’m not sure which part got the best work out; mind or body, but I will have a lot of confidence on race day knowing I’m prepared.

Overprotected?

The worst part of swimming is the end of the pool. You never really get anywhere, or go anywhere – just back and forth, back and forth. I swam 2200 yards today. It took an hour. I could have walked that distance at a leisurely pace in 20 minutes. A decent swimmer could have done it in 25 minutes.

I’m just slow. At the triathlon they calculate your average pace in seconds per 100 yards. They calculate my average time in relative progress, you know, like a glacier. I swim sort of like congress – lots and lots of flailing around causing lots of waves and noise but very little actual progress.

2200 yards is down and back 44 times. Swimming that far is one thing, keeping track of laps in another. My system is count up to 10 and then back down to 1, over and over. It’s hard to be sure you counted all the laps. 2200 yards is 1.2 miles, counting every one minute and 10 seconds – 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5 and on and on. Yesterday I ran 15 miles- one lap.

I have to say, however, that I m beginning to enjoy swimming, at times. Since I’m taking it real easy and not pushing it I can keep heart rate down, and actually relax. So, especially for the first 30 minutes today it just felt so relaxing to be in the water, and the sun was shining, I could think about editing the three, no four movies I’m currently working on.

I never thought I would ever say I enjoyed swimming.

I swim in the community pool and I arrived when it opened at 10:00. I was the only person there except for the four life guards. It was certainly the safest miles anyone ever swam.

That’s a little bit like our lives – we are sometimes over-protected in the wrong areas. We have insured our houses, health expenses, cars, and income. We lock our doors, secure our computers, and apply sun screen. But what system is keeping track of our heart? What alarm goes off when we speak a harsh word, or put someone down, or tear someone down when they aren’t there? Who jumps in to rescue us when we discount all the blessings we have and turn a craving eye on cars, houses, jobs, lifestyles, vacations? What system do we have to keep tender hearts open to the lost, the poor, or the needy?

Natural Causes

Dying of natural causes puts life in a different perspective. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s not life cut short, it’s not some tragic accident, just a life that has run its course. The cicada I ran past today was dying of natural causes; spinning around in sputtering circles on its back. I wonder why bugs die on their backs.

Anyway, seeing the insect die got me thinking about life and death. A quote came into my mind, something about “We are all dying slowly every day.” I’m sure you have heard that line of thinking. I suppose, in a way, it is true. We are finite, every day brings us closer to the end of our life.

Well, anyway, today it seemed to me that the opposite is true, that every day we are becoming more alive. This life is only the first stage in our life cycle, this body only a cocoon. This life can be amazing at times, but we, like caterpillars have to crawl around in the dirt and inch our way through life. But in the next we’ll fly like butterflies.

And, if we can believe the words of Jesus, what we do in this life will have an effect on our life in the next. So, in many ways we are just beginning to live, and every day we become more alive.

Rosy glasses

When I bike I am usually in a city, since the nearest non-city space is almost 10 miles away. City biking has its own challenges, like paying enough attention to traffic to avoid getting smacked by a big truck, and dodging pot holes. Also, instead of road kill on the shoulder there are lots of nails, small bits of metal, and other construction material which collect in the gutters.

But lately, as my training for the Pigman has required longer rides, I’ve been out in the country a little bit. The country is always nice, and North Texas is no exception. I love to hear the birds, and insects, and the wind in the trees. The land is gently rolling and is mostly pasture although some of the ground is cultivated. There are lots of trees here, but no forests. Everything that grows looks happy enough, but tough and hard. It shows the years of blazing heat, scarce rainfall, poor soil, and cold winter winds, and yet the harsh environment made it stronger and healthier.

I just got back from my ride this evening and I was going to write about how amazingly red the sunset was. I couldn’t ever remember seeing such a beautiful red, red setting sun. But as I started writing I realized my sunglasses made it look red!

Well, nevertheless it was a beautiful sunset, even if colored rosy by my glasses.

Survival

Katy wanted to ride a bike to the library. She thought Susan’s bike would be good, but, in the typical Dad “You can do it” spirit, I suggested mine. “Susan’s is so small, and the tires need air.”

The seat was a little high so I lowered it. Katy said it felt a little too high still, but I thought it was about the right height for best efficiency so I had her try it a little. Oh, and there was also the foot strap to deal with. “It’s ok” I assured her, just remember to take your foot out before you stop. She was pretty hesitant, but I encouraged her that she could do it, and just try it a little to see if that seat height isn’t right.

She went 20 feet, the seat felt too high, she tried to stop, forgot the foot strap, stopped the bike and fell right over in the alley.

As she rode away on Susan’s bike I had a flash-back of the time I was teaching Andy to drive and sent him up a one way street the wrong way. Sometimes I wonder how my kids survived me.

New Things

I looked for the humming bird today but it was not there. It’s a common mistake we make in life – we keep looking in the same place but the “prize” keeps moving. Now I know what you Christians out there are saying to yourselves, “If you are looking for God you can find Him in the same place because He never moves.” However, I submit that as our relationship with God grows we meet him in a different place too. Like Lucy in the Chronicles of Narnia, I think it’s in Prince Caspian. The children had been gone for a time, and had recently returned to Narnia. In her first conversation with Aslan she says, “Aslan, you are bigger than you used to be” and he say’s, “No, I haven’t grown, you have.”

So, anyway, I don’t know what cool things I will experience today, but seeing the humming bird among the Crepe Myrtles by the soccer fields is not one of them.

Humming Birds

I can’t believe I haven’t written since Sunday! This week is flying by.

So yesterday while on my morning run I saw a humming bird. At first I thought it was an insect (apparently everything grows big in Texas, except humming birds.) The thing about humming birds, at least for me, is that I can’t stop watching them. I love that hovering thing, and aside from being completely captivated, I imagine how awesome it would be to fly around like that. For me to move anything that fast is impossible and for the bird it’s effortless. What a great lesson in individuality! Do what you were created to do. After all, the humming bird is excellent at sucking nectar out of flowers, but can it grill steak and roasting ears?

Also, what an interesting glimpse at God’s creativity and engineering chops. Here’s a creature that looks like a bird but flies like an insect. And how can it flap so fast so efficiently – an elegant design. They say you can learn about an artist by looking at his/her work. I think the same is true about God. This bird is an engaging combination of whimsy and brilliance, and what does that say about its designer?

More Water: Duck tracks

My mind is still on water and rain. Of course water is a big part of our life, but with the wet weather it seems even more so. Today I’m thinking about dew. I posted a video to go along with this entry on my MySpace site - http://www.myspace.com/slivermoonglobal Click on "My videos" under my picture and click on "Duck Tracks."

I was in the middle of my morning run and the dew was thick on the grass. Everyone else uses the sidewalk, so I don’t know who had been there before me that day, but I run on the grass, leaving a dotted trail in the unbroken dewy grass. As I ran next to the pond I noticed someone had been there before me – it was a duck.

I ran next to the little foot prints, up and down the hills for a few minutes and then I looked back to see two tracks in the dew – his little dots close together, sometimes blurring together into one solid line, and my big splotches farther apart.

For some reason I felt a bond with the duck, you know, like we had been down the same road and had shared experiences.

Well, that’s just the way my mind works.

So, anyway, I thought about the short-legged dew treader meandering up and down the hills, and wondered: how long did it take him? Is it hard for him to walk up the steep hill? Why was he walking there? Was the dew cold on his feet? I wondered if he felt like me - did the morning air in his lungs compel him to live the coming day hard and full? Were his little duck eyes just as mesmerized as mine looking at the reflection of the new day in the perfectly calm water?

We left our mark, the duck and I, in the dew – two careless lines of green among the wetter green carpet, a fleeting witness to our presence, passage and purpose. Our brief mark on the world would evaporate within the hour. Like so many things we do in a day – leaving no lasting mark.

I remembered something I saw during the Pigman spring triathlon several years ago. On the side of the road, preserved in concrete, are a good long set of raccoon tracks. Apparently the little critter walked on the road while the cement was still wet. They will be there as long as the road lasts.

There are some things in our lives that don’t fade away: our wedding day, the birth of our children, graduation days. Sometimes there are big events like reunions, or vacations together, or trips which leave a lasting impact. I think for me there were big projects I did with others that left a lasting impression on all of us, like writing and performing musicals or movies, or the music tour. Also, there were lasting things I did on my own like marathons performances and travel.

So, my point is that, while most parts of most days are spent making tracks that will fade by the time the sun rises high, it is worth working towards big things. As we attempt weightier and more substantive goals we experience a fuller, more meaningful life. Also, at times we can even make someone else’s life more meaningful. Some people even made such lasting tracks that they impact people long after their own life is over: Beethoven, CS Lewis, Ghandi, Mother Teresa.

Well, that’s what I was thinking about when I ran next to the duck tracks.

I ran on and imagined my little friend waddling along thought about how much effort it must have taken him, and how easily I was skimming along the dew. I felt a bit superior.

On my way back I saw the duck on the pond, gliding effortlessly. I mentally compared that image to me swimming laps in the pool – water flying, waves everywhere, gasping like a steam engine, and moving forward at a snail’s pace for my effort.

Ok, I’ve got the grass but he’s got the water, we’re even, the duck and I. (Hopelessly competitive I am.)

Then he flew away.

Damn. Outdone by a duck.

Waterlogged in Texas

As of yesterday we have had 50 straight days of rain. We’ve got Noah beat by 10.

Consequently, I have been thinking about water lately. It’s like so many things in life – too little is bad, too much is worse. Like dessert, money, beer, credit, garlic, Irish music, and RAIN.

As I was running the other day I noticed the sound of the creek next to the trail. I love that sound. Calm and companionable. But just a few days ago that same creek was a flooding, raging river – 20 feet deep, sweeping away everything, including entire trees. Life is like that, one moment just rolling along and suddenly coming at you way, way to fast.

So anyway, after our daily thunderstorm/flash flood yesterday I thought how the weather illustrates the character of God, he is both terrifying and gentle. Lightning – terrifying; peaceful sunset afterwards – gentle.

I put together a little North Texas weather video. It looks and sounds great on my computer but not so great on the web, but since I made it I decided to post it anyway. You can see it at my Myspace page, click on "videos." http://www.myspace.com/slivermoonglobal. It's labeled "Waterlogged in Texas."

What, exactly, do we know?

So I sent an email to everybody that my phone changed but the number didn’t and I got some interesting responses. Dani (Hungarian) asked me if I had Lia’s (Hungarian) phone number (which I had), and my sister wrote to say she didn’t my phone number!

Hmm, what does that say about me….

The sun shone today for the first time all week (well, almost) and it got pretty hot. Due to a series of delays I ran my prescribed 9 miles in the heat of the day. It wasn’t so bad until I got home and stopped running. Then I felt REALLY tired. I wonder why I didn’t know how tired I was while I was actually getting tired.

Have you ever experienced something like this? You get to the end of something, let down, relax, and then realize just how draining it had been.

I’m working on putting together one of the films from Hungary. I am constantly fighting the voices in my head that tell me my work stinks. I suspect I’m worried about failure, or what people will think. Well, I’m no film genius that’s for sure, but I have to give it my best shot.

New Phone

I am writing to tell everyone that I have a new phone. No need to change anything, the number is the same.

I know we like things to stay the same. It makes our lives seem secure, dependable, like we know what to expect. But things change. People change. Society changes, the World changes.

Let’s take Texas weather for example. For the first two years I lived in Texas we had two kinds of days: Pleasant and sunny, and hot and sunny. Starting this spring we entered the rain zone. Before I left for Hungary we were in a weather rhythm that included a weekly flash flood. Since I returned volume is down but frequency is up. Now we have daily thunderstorms. Some days it rains two or three times. Everything is green, I never have to water anything, it’s humid – we could be living in Iowa.

Maybe it’s not so much that the weather changed as that I just know Texas weather better now. As we used to say at faculty meetings: I now have a more sophisticated understanding of Texas. Anyway, it’s the same address but it has been calling up different weather.

I am applying for teaching jobs. The party is over, time to make some money again. I do love to teach, and I can still work on films in my spare time.

Same number, new phone.

Onion Rings and Cherry Coke

I’m getting healthy. Well, I’m planning to get healthy. This morning I ran the 8 miles prescribed by my new training schedule, ate fruit and vegetables for breakfast and lunch. I worked on my film, then took a break to grocery shop. I bought good healthy food like carrots, yogurt, and skim milk. Even salmon. Then on the way home I stopped by Sonic for onion rings and a cherry coke. Hmmm.

What Happened In Europe

Notes from my trip
While I was traveling I did some writing which I couldn’t get up on my blog until I got home. So here’s what happened with me.

Paris, Ireland, London
My travels with Susan and Katy through Paris, Ireland, and London were great. We got connected with Katy’s favorite people and places in Paris. We heard some great traditional Irish music and had many adventures in driving while in Ireland. I had a lesson at a music school to learn Bodhran (Irish drum) and Pennywhistle. Driving on the wrong side of the road and the wrong side of the car was interesting. Shifting with the wrong hand was maddening. Driving 100 kilometers per hour on curvy, narrow roads was invigorating, (Susan may have a different descriptor) until we met buses and trucks coming the other way at which point the experience became a little more intense. Ireland is absolutely beautiful, and the Irish are amazing – witty, friendly, welcoming. We hope to go back! We did a little looking around in London, and saw a musical, “Wicked.” Then to the train through the Chunnel back to Paris. I have wiped the 36 hour trek from Paris to Dallas from my mind, and will not speak of it again, so don’t ask.

John and Zsofi
I spent the last few days in Hungary at John and Zsofi’s house. They are living with their parents in a suburb of Budapest. It was great to see them again. I can’t spend time with John and Zsofi without growing in my faith. They stretch me every time. They are so thoughtful and intentional in their faith, and so wise. As you know, I have loads of questions and mental struggles with God. John and Zsofi don’t try to convince me of their point of view, but they are such great listeners and conversationalists that I always come away with answers, and am more sure of my faith. Humble and wise. As a matter of fact, I think we should throw democracy out the window and appoint John and Zsofi king and queen. If anyone could run the world, they could.

Overall I wasn’t a great guest. I don’t know how many times I arrived late at night, only to leave early the next day for some far point on the map. But, in the end, I did stay put long enough to experience their wonderful extended family. As I said, they live with their parents. They also have a beautiful daughter Eszter about 8 months old. Zsofi’s sister Kristi lives there this summer, and her grandmother was there too – four generations in one home.

They organized a party for long-time friends who had a common connection with the mission organization International Messengers. Many of my trips to Hungary were with International Messengers so I knew everyone who came, and hadn’t seen some of them for 10 years. I knew them as high school or college kids, and now they have families and careers. Most of them have spent some time in full or part time ministry. If anyone ever had a doubt about the effectiveness of short term missions, they should have been in the house that day. There are a few dozen Hungarians who came to faith, grew in faith, discipled others in the faith, and now are continuing on in faith all as a result of short term missions. These are Hungarians molding the Hungarian church. Very cool.

At Helga’s House
We had a great visit. What a beautiful family. Rebeka is 12 and Laura 10. They picked me up from the train station in Pecs and we spent the drive to Mohacs catching up on old times. Helga fixed spaghetti like mom used to make, I taught Rebeka a duet on piano and Laura a few chords on guitar. Helga and Zoli showed me around the town and the Danube River. Jus writing down what we did doesn’t really capture the experience.

Let me try again.

There is an experience I’m sure you’ve had but I don’t know the word for. Remember, for example, how good it is to come into a warm house after being outside in the cold, or flopping down on the sofa after a long day’s work, or a shower after hours of yard work under the August sun. Spending time in Zoli and Helga’s home is like that. It’s like being covered with a warm, peaceful, friendly blanket.

Zoli and Helga are church planters, and they work with two groups – one in Pecs and one in Mohacs. Both are going well. Zoli told me there are more than a dozen small town close by in which there are no churches, and he hopes someday to work there too.

Lia and Zoli
I “moved” from Hajduboszormeny to Debrecen to stay with Lia and Zoli while I finished up the film. It was so great to see Zoli and Lia, and to meet Aron. I felt so at home there, and it was great to experience their family. Their home is full of peace and happiness. Lia is a great mom. She is so perfect with Aron. She creates this beautiful environment for Aron, and he obviously feels completely secure and loved. Aron is bright eyed and never stops moving. He is remarkably friendly. We walked to downtown Debrecen, and Aron was a people magnet! Everyone was smiling and waving at him, and ladies would come over and play with him.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Seeing Aron helped me understand why Lia’s ministry has been so fruitful. She is so outwards focused! Add that to being capable, dedicated, servant-hearted and it’s no wonder God has used her so effectively in ministry!

Thursday

I was in Eger today. Eger is an important city in Hungarian history and there is a famous castle there. I spent a few hours filming the castle. I wanted to make sure I covered all parts of the castle. I might have missed a few stones. Maybe. Maybe I was a little compulsive about it. I expect I will use about 30 seconds worth of footage for my film. Sometimes I just can't stop.

As I was walking down the street I heard the sound that only a band director can love: beginning music students. So I popped in to see what was going on. One thing led to another, and soon I was sitting in on a trumpet lesson. I exchanged e-mail with the brass teacher, and then the percussion teacher showed me around. He has a collection of old Hungarian instruments, so we had a nice talk.

I ate a very nice Hungarian lunch which included some of my favorite foods: fruit soup, and galuska.

I walked around filming Eger, getting lost, and met some kids who were fascinated with my camera and had a nice talk with their grandfather while they zoomed in and out on everything in sight.

While getting on the bus I make a little mistake. I put my bag in the luggage compartment under the bus.

The trip to Budapest was beautiful because of the evening light and I think I got some film of Matra mountain and the nuclear power plant.

I popped out of the bus thinking about how I would get home using the public transportation.

My mother used to say that she was glad my head was securely fastened to my body so I couldn't use it. After Andy was born they told me they thought I would be a good father to my children as long as I didn't lose them.

You know where this is going.

I forgot to get my bag from under the bus.

I didn't realize it until I had purchased a subway pass and was on my way. It hit me as if I were in the basement of the Twin Towers when they fell.

I prayed. Hard.

I headed back but the bus was long gone. People directed me to the "Service office." The door to the "Service office" read, "Entry forbidden" but the people nearby assured me I could go in.

I entered a small room about 6' X 8'. There was no light in the room at all, and at the other end was a grey-haired man with large glasses sitting behind a window. His room was dark too, except for a desk lamp.

As I appoached he was shouting at someone on the phone. He slammed it down with one hand and picked up a different phone with the other. After shouting into that one for the better part of a minute he slammed that one down. Then he directed his full atention on me and said, "Tess!" (What!) I should explain that in a semi-formal situation like a restaurant Hungarians say, "Tessek parancsolja" which translates as "May I help you?" Less formally they often shorten it to "Tessek." I have never heard "Tess!"

Well, if I had left something else on the bus I think I would have cut my losses and just left. But, remembering that all the film I shot for the film in Hajdubösörmeny were in my bag, I dared to speak.

I explained the situation, he hammered out a few strokes on the keyboard and told me the bus had already left back to Eger.

Somehow the dark room darkened.

I scooped my heart up from the floor and asked what I should do. He blurted, "I don't know."

For some reason I had expected help.

Since I didn't move, and he obviously had more people to shout at he wrote down a telephone number and sent me away.

If I could see into the future I would not have left the room. But, like a man who just ran over his own dog, I retreated from the "Service desk," carrying the feint glimmer of hope - 8 blue numbers on a small white scrap of paper.

I managed to find a phone booth, but 10 minutes worth of dialing proved fruitless.

I began to run through a mental inventory of my lost things putting them in two categories: replacable and irreplacable. The feint glimmer of hope was flickering. My backpack was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as my countenance. The phone booth became a boxing ring and I began pummeling myself with the gloves off. So Stupid. So irresponisble. So Careless. What was I thinking! When will I grow up! My work was interrupted by the sweat running down my back, and I stood there staring at the bottons on the phone. No bag. No help. No phone number. No hope.

As is often the case, at the end of the road, at the lowest point God sends help. There was a man standing outside the phone booth. God's "Service desk."

I asked about the phone number. The small white piece of paper was fine but there was a problem with the 8 blue numbers.

I esplained my situation. He closed hes phone shop and took me back to the "Service desk." He withstood the piercing glare behind the large glasses and we returned with a new number.

I didn't work. He suggested we try again in 15 minutes.

Then God sent his second helper. I called Zsofi. I confessed the self-induced catatrophy. At this point my bag was on it's way back to Eger and the bus was apparently in a communication black hole. I couldn't reach the driver or the Eger bus office.

Zsofi wondered if I knew anyone in Eger. Now the third God-sent hlep entered the story. This help God prepared a day ahed of time. Wednesday I met with Ilona and she told me Judit lives in Eger and gave me her number! I thanked God for Zsofi and her level head.

So I called Judit, the 4th helper. Yes, she said, she would gladly meet the bus carrying my bag in Eger and retrieve it for me. I would catch the next bus and follow my bag back to Eger.

I know, it wasn't an elegant plan but another two hour bus ride would be worth it if I could get my bag back.

Se there was a little hope for success. But I was pretty well convinced that someone had probably already stolen my bag and this trip was just following the air.

I had 10 minutes to catch the bext bus back to Eger. As I approached the bus I looked inside and saw the driver. It was the same gu who drove us from Eger! I looked in the luggage compartment and there was my bag!

The man in the "Service office" was wrong - the bus hadn't gone back to Eger - it was there the whole time!

I love stories with a happy ending.

tim

Black hole

Where should I start? The last time I wrote in reverse chronological order. It's late and I don't know how long I'll last, so this one will be in random time order.

I watched fireworks with almost the entire population of Hajdúböszömény during the "Children's Day" celebration. What a show! The best I have ever seen. Young and old we stood, faces lifted up and watched in wonder and delight - all of us children. Afterwards the glow in the sky was transferred to our hearts, and everyone lingered a while, beautifully. I thought about the coming day when we, with faces lifted up, will look in wonder and delight at the Light of the World.

I had not heard or spoken a word of English for three days until I arrived here at Lia and Zoli's house late this evening. I have stared back at people like a deer in the headlights trying to understand what they said to me. I keep having to fight the urge to say, "Honestly, I'm not stupid, I just can't hear fast enough."

Sometimes I try to fake it and then the other person will say, "You didn't understand, did you?" Sometimes we both get tired of trying and both of us pretend I understood.

But, everyone seems to find it amusing to watch me murder their language and we have laughed a lot, and, in the end, we usually communicate.

I spent the day at the music school with Bencé and Ádám. They have normal classes in the morning and music in the afternoon. I attended Math, English, History (twice), and music composition. All the students are very, very nice and act pretty much like any other teenager I have met. The teachers were nice too, and I could film during class.

For lunch today I had three pieces of bread and a pepsi. That's down a notch from the piece of bread with a slice of meat in it I ate in Paris. Actually, I very much enjoyed the French lunch, and the three pieces of bread today were zsemle - the best bread on the planet. But, Katy, it makes a better story the other way, no?

I'm pretty sure I have recorded some good interviews. I don't really know, because I can't really understand Hungarian. The parts I understood were good, and the people looked convincing.... I know what you are thinking, "Tim, Tim, Tim, how do you get yourself in these situations?

There is a Hungarian guy I took a film class with. Maybe I can buy him dinner and he will interpret the interviews for me.

Tomorrow there will be an informal concert at Ádám's house with lots of family members. They organized it for my benefit. It should be interesting. I didn't really understand all the plans, but it's possible I might be playing something too, after I film a bit.

Sunday I had church with the Kovacs'. They asked me to choose the songs and lead the singing from the piano. It was great, like old times. Then we sat out under the tree and had the message. Afterwards was the feast. If you have eaten at Erzsebet's house you will be jealous.

Sunday was children's day in Hungary. There was a huge festival with people selling things, and bands playing, a carnival, parachute jumpers. Everybody in town was there. Later we watched the video of Edina and Scott's wedding, and looked at pictures on Susan's website.

I am in Debrecen at Lia and Zoli's house. It was great to see them again. I arrived too late to meet their new son Áron, so I have to wait until tomorrow.

Some of you know I hope to make a second film here, telling the story of an amazing group of young Hungarians who came to faith as the result of a short-term mission, and are currently, or have been in full time service for the Lord. Lia will be the first of these. If you are following this blog currently, and are a praying person, pray that I can accurately capture the impact she has made here in Eastern Hungary. (She speaks better English than I do, so one hurdle is already crossed....)

I have no idea what time it is, surely it must be late. So that's it for now.

tim

(warning: this entry is in reverse chronological order)

Saturday night, May 19

I'm writing this from Eastern Hungary. I am filming a documentary about two young pianists, students I met a few years ago. I met with them and their families. Both of the moms insisted on feeding me, a lot. So I ate two lunches and two dinners. Two big lunches and two big dinners.

No one I was with today spoke any English, only very fast Hungarian. I spoke a lot of very bad Hungarian and listened slowly. It was a very interesting day, my brain is tired.

But, I have never met two nicer families! They have organized a party at which several family members will play and sing some original music and some Hungarian music too.

When traveling sometimes the smallest things take a long time.

For example, yesterday I had a simple task- phone ahead to tell my friends which train I would be taking from Budapest. What does it take to make a phone call? In this case 40 minutes, three phones (2 public, 1 borrowed from a stranger), a quarter mile run t0 catch the train, advice from three different strangers, and a boat-load of worry. I never did complete the call. As the train left Budapest I managed a call (dialed by another stranger) to a different friend from the to ask them to call my original target. Smooth, no?

I went to bed a little late and dreamt a long series of Hungarian conversations which I couldn't finish and didn't understand. It was a foreshadow.

I woke up around 3:00 AM and couldn't return to my dreams because my body can't believe that the time is different. At 4:3ö I got up and went running. After that I could sleep a little. I was awake for 36 hours straight during the trip here so I can use the sleep.

I have also connected with some dear old friends (they don't speak English either) and had a great time catching up and talking about old times.

I was late arriving in Budapest because the plane was delayed from Paris, so John and Zsofi had to wait over two hours in the airport. (I tried to call ahead from Paris but I lost that payphone battle too, in spite of help from two people and a borrowed telephone card.)

I paid 8 bucks for a hunk of bread with a slice of meat in it while waiting in the Paris airport, but I ate it with a nice couple from Ireland which made it worth the money. He turned out to be a professional bass player so we talked bass and Irish music for an hour. He gave me the name of a traditional band in Ireland and offered to help hook me up with some musicians there.

Before that I had lunch with Katy in Paris. (This was another hunk of bread with a slice of meet in it.) Actually we spent most of the the day traveling from one airport to the other. It was nice to see Paris. It was great to see Katy.

OK, more later.

Beneath the surface

I'm sitting on the back porch playing guitar in the dark. Since I can't see the music I just lean back into the white, plastic lawn chair and watch as jets float across the blue-black star-dotted sky. The air is cool and humid, and completely calm. In between songs I sit and listen to the peaceful quiet and wonder if it was worse to be shot dead by an insane stranger, or lie helpless watching life drain from a friend.

Thirty two people experienced the first, a few dozen the second, a few hundred have been touched second hand, and the remaining 259 million of us are left sitting on our back porches, wondering, watching helpless. Life is fragile. Life is short.

I think I'll go call my dad and tell him I love him.

Next stop, who knows?

I drove to Iowa to spend Easter with Andy’s family. It’s a long way. I left in the early evening after finishing my lessons, echoes of the missed notes, halting rhythms, harsh tone, and sweet young personalities occupying my mind while I crept through the North Dallas evening commuter traffic. Slow progress –my students, my life, and the traffic – is easier to bear knowing that impatience won’t speed things up, and that we will eventually arrive at our goal if we persist.

I persisted north on Highway 75 past fields overstuffed with spring growth, trying in vain to count the shades of green. So vibrant were the fields and so thin the cover of clouds that it seemed the evening was being lit by the new growth itself. It was impossible to hurry, or worry, or wonder if my life is speeding nowhere.

The Red River marked my progress into the great state of Oklahoma, where cattle stood planted in the grass, and Indian Paintbrushes danced orange above the green floor. Overhead, the clouds took on a washboard pattern, like waves in the sky and I wondered what kind of wind could make a cloud do that.

The fields slowly cooled until the great state of Oklahoma disappeared under darkness, and the only part of it I could see was the pavement beneath, and billboards floating by. Funeral homes, 24 hour dentures, and vasectomy reversals seemed to be common themes. I suppose all travelers have to deal with their worn out lives– bodies, teeth, marriages - as they persist.

I followed my headlights until my dashboard flashed yellow, advising me that I would not be able to persist very much farther without gas. A convenience store in Pryor put out the light.

Past Pryor came the snow - big white flakes streaking though the dark, like mini comets. Then, fog started to rise off the pavement; big thick banks like they make in the movies. Sometimes so much light can make it hard to see.

A new day brought new light, and as I traveled north, fields of green gave way to brown grass and flowering trees, and, further north, to dormant pre-spring. It was like traveling backwards in a “Season Time Machine.” It’s not that summer won’t arrive here, these fields just have to wait.

I stopped to visit my old schools and my friends in them. We talked about old days, new days, and days we hope to see. A good friend’s words have more impact then just words – “Persist” they said. I continued north feeling like the Indian paintbrushes dancing over the green floor in the great state of Oklahoma.

My trip odometer read 777.7 as I pulled into Darwin’s driveway to tape an interview about common friends. I took it as a sign. I had arranged the meeting at the last minute hoping this could shed light on a film project I have in mind. It did.

If you ever want to feel encouraged, energized, purposeful, go talk to Darwin, he will light you up.

And so I arrived at the home of my son in time to share of the kind of meal by which one celebrates (grilled steaks, goldfish crackers, ice cream) with the children of my child. When I finally closed my eyes on the bed which doubles as a Matchbox car roadway during the day, surrounded by crayons and very small teacups, I wondered what kind of miracle causes people to grow, even when you aren’t there.

Empty Heads, Wheat, Young People, April 1

Today is April 1. Sunday. The first of the month and the first of the week – it seems so tidy.

Did you know that the life cycle of wheat – the number of days from planting until harvest is about the same as from conception to birth of a child?

My bike ride kept me in town today, but I found myself riding by a wheat field. It reminded me of living on the plains of Western Kansas. The first time I saw wheat I thought it was grass. I was one month from graduating from CSU and Susan and I were on a job interview trip across Kansas. I kept saying, “That grass looks great. I wonder what they are going to do with all that grass.” I was so young.

Come to find out wheat is just grass with big tasty seeds. But the seed is the last thing to form. The wheat I saw today looked complete but there was no grain inside the heads. In essence what I saw today was just tall grass. It looked completely grown but there is nothing in the heads yet.

Sort of like young people.

Speaking of young people, Katy wrote today that she got a nice, new tattoo. “Pretty,” she described, and then typed the three foreign words (without translation) which composed the ink blot. Not to worry, she beamed, “I got it at a real cheap shop.”

Hmm, looks completely grown but there is nothing in the head yet.

Later, Susan, who had since emailed with our newly ornamented daughter, asked me the date. “April the first.” And then the light began to dawn.

So, there comes a point in the life cycle of wheat when the mature (translate “Old”) heads of wheat dry out. Slowly over time, the wind blows, the sun bakes, weather breaks it down, and soon what used to be in the head slowly starts to fall out….

Green Day

One of my favorite days of the year has no name, doesn’t fall on the same date, isn’t celebrated, but never fails to change my outlook. It is the one day every year when the world turns from brown and grey to green. Today was that day in Allen, Texas.

I can still remember the first time I witnessed the annual color shift. I was standing in right field during baseball practice. If you have ever stood in right field during little league baseball practice you will understand why I was spacing out rather than watching the current batter at work – batting practice is like, no, worse than watching paint dry.

This particular right field happened to be hemmed in by mountains on all sides. Our mountains were always green at the bottom, skirted by evergreens, but the top half, above the tree-line, changed with the seasons. At that time of year (June) the white caps of winter has mostly melted away revealing the brown remains of last year’s tundra.

On that day I looked up in between unsuccessful swings of the bat and, as if someone had flipped a switch, the mountains were all green. Oh, so striking. I had this sensation of being full of optimism, and energy, like a drab veil had been lifted.

I love this day. I have loved this day the 40-some times I have seen it since my days as a Yankee. Today I witnessed it on my bike, not in right field. I saw little patches of wildflowers on the side of the road, construction sites beautified by over-enthusiastic weeds growing on piles of dirt, little fields of dark green, knee-high wheat, and cattle grazing in untidy, flower-speckled pastures.

On “Green Day” as the new growth overtakes the dead remnants of winter, I feel like I can too.

Death by Ukulele

I’m glad I didn’t honk, because the guy in front
of me missed death by a split second. He was
waiting at a red light, I was behind him.  The
light changed green, he didn’t see the light
change because he was spacing off. Even though
I was late and in a hurry I decided not to
honk but wait for him to look up. A few seconds
later he looked up, saw the light was already
green, looked in his mirror and saw me there
and quickly started to drive ahead. Before he could
drive 2 feet he slammed on his brakes again
because a car had just run the red light and sped
by in front of him going 40 MPH. 

I’m sure that if I had honked he would have popped
out into the intersection just in time to get
broadsided by the light-runner. The three of us
were a hair’s-breadth away from a boat-load of
sorrow: One guy dead, one guy who just killed
someone, and me the catalyst of the collision.
Life is so fragile, death is so near.  I suppose
if we knew how often we pass next to death we
would never leave the house. 

Anyway, I believe in Guardian Angels.
I think mine rescued me.


I leave for Hawaii tomorrow morning.  Susan and
I have been looking forward to this trip! It will
be great to see Mark and Ari after all this time. 
I think there will be snorkeling, hiking, and lots
of picture taking.  We’ll have to go out in the
dark at least once because I will be able to see
some stars I have always wanted to see, but aren’t
visible from the north.   

Since World Music is on my mind these days I
researched the music of Hawaii. I bought a very
cheap ukulele (wretchedly out of tune) and have
been practicing. I scheduled a lesson for next
Tuesday at a studio not far from Mark’s house,
and I hope to buy a decent ukulele when I’m
there, and meet up with some local
musicians.

OK, let me sum up: I'm still alive,
I'm still a geek.  

tim

I love the date today: 2/ 20/ 2007, as if stuttering.

My Fellow North Texans have been downtrodden as of late: the temperature dipped into the 30’s for nearly a week. Tough times. However, spring has apparently arrived and hope springs forth once more. Eighty degrees today.

I even mowed my lawn. I don’t want you to have the wrong picture, my grass is not green nor is it growing. It’s a thing we do down here with the Bermuda grass – scalp it real short before it starts to grow. It’s sort of like the Mary Kay lotion Susan bought last week. She tells me it gets rid of the old dead skin and let’s the beautiful new show through. I await my new green skin.

Don’t you hate it when somebody takes up 2 parking spaces? Yesterday I parked next to a truck taking up 4. I posted the photo. I suppose it’s a result of opposing trends. Over the years trucks have gotten bigger, and parking spaces have gotten smaller. Now there’s not enough room for the truck. I think, in some ways, my dreams are like the truck, and my life is like the parking space.

Scalped and parked,

tim

Catching Up

Friends,

I haven't written for a while, so I thought I'd use the long pause to update my communications from mass mailing to blogging.

I received my AARP card in the mail yesterday. I'm not yet 50, but apparently I'm close enough. I suppose that means I should figure out what I want to do when I grow up. I always have been a procrastinator.

I'm loosing teeth and gaining titanium. The dentist inserted a metal screw in my jaw last Friday morning. I'm not sure if he used a Black and Decker cordless with the 90 degree chuck adapter or what. They rendered me unconsious and I told them I really didn't want to know the details of what they were going to do. I suppose they made a pilot hole first. Anyway, I'll have this fake tooth paid off about three years after my mortgage.

It seems there are three kinds of people on the planet: those who think it was a really bad move to attack Iraq, those who think it was a bad move to attack Iraq, and George Bush.

To catch you up on the fall, I went to Lebanon on September to make a film. (You know that I'm a film-maker want-a-be.) I'm still working on it. You would think that if I spent that much time it must be amazingly complex. But it's not. It's pretty short and straight-forward. I just have a lot to learn. Anyway, you can view a slideshow of some of the pictures I took at http://www.myspace.com/slivermoonglobal. Click on "My Videos." Lebanon was amazing, I loved it, and I want to go back to several places in the Middle East ASAP.

We drove to Iowa for Thanksgiving to see our grandkids (and Andy and Heidi too), and over Christmas drove to Denver to see my family, then to Iowa, then home. Katy was home for a few weeks between semesters in Granada, Spain (fall) and Paris (spring). It was nice to have her home.

Susan and I visited Seattle a few weeks ago. Week took a boatload of pictures and video. I'll have a slideshow up pretty soon at http://picasaweb.google.com/tim.fuchtman.

Mark is stationed in Hawaii. I guess that means we'll have to go visit he and Ari pretty soon....

I'm moving steadily towards developing my own business doing World Music programs in schools, and producing educational materials. You can't believe how many steps it takes to start a business. Now I need to actually start making some money!

Texas weather (minus August and September) is still amazing. It's January, and today the bank teller said, "It's pretty cold out today, they say it might get down to the 40's." Yikes! And it's sunny too. We did get some rain for a few weeks in December, but before that one of my guitar students told me she wanted to wash off her windshield and forgot where the windshield wiper switch was.

I'm going to borrow a phrase from Katy, because every time I read it I like it more:

Peace out!

tim