What Is Your Perfect Day?

Many of you are off and running with your personal goals for the new year.  With only 27 days in, the motivation and focus is still fairly strong.  Soon it will be February.

Learning from other baseball instructors as well as from personal development/leadership reading, one way to stay on track is to visualize success.  This is just a simple exercise of imagining what it would be like to lose 20 lbs. or to stop smoking.  The key to this visualization is to get lost in the details.  Day dreaming is acceptable after all!

As for me, I like to think about what a perfect day would look like.  Follow me to the land of make believe and see what I visualize for a day like today in the dead of winter.

7:00 am -- rise and shine
7:30 -- coffee and devotional reading and study
8:00 -- breakfast (my fav is a goetta omellet)
8:30 -- creating (networking, reading, writing, planning)
10:30 -- workout
noon -- lunch (i love leftovers from the night before)
1:00 pm -- office, managing my business
3:00 -- team practice (baseball starts early)
5:00 -- supper (Have you seen Hilary's meals?!)
6:00 -- family time
9:00 -- wifey time
10:30 -- bed

Now you try it.  I am a firm believer in writing this stuff down.  The action of writing takes abstract thoughts and shapes them into tangible ideas.

What is your perfect day?

What I Want For Christmas

The word I have heard most often in my praying of recent weeks is "sacrifice."  That's it.  I do not have any more insight or context, just a confidence that God has spoken.  In preparation for 2012, this is what I want for Christmas:

• wisdom
• continued confirmation
• appropriate resources
• TV series suggestions
• deeper connections
• ideas
• fresh vigor
• unique perspective
• low carb pork lo mein
• official Red Ryder carbine-action two hundred shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock (smile)

What do you want?

"The days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will raise up to David a righteous Branch, a King who will reign wisely and do what is just and right in the land."  (Jeremiah 23:5)

Running Again: What I've Learned

Running is hard on the body.  Being an amateur I did not know what I was doing when I started the long distances some 4 years ago.  I have learned some things along the way but still consider myself a novice.

There is nothing like adversity to teach the lessons that stick.  I have had my share.  I am just now back on the running trail after a year of recovering from some hip issues.  The miles of pounding caught up to me.  I am running again and feeling great.

From me to you the lessons I have learned:
#1)  Know your body.  Your body has its own voice.  Listen carefully and respond accordingly.  I am the kind of guy that reads line by line the instructions on the build/fix it yourself project and will not deviate from it.  Running smarter means backing off when my energy level is down or cutting back the mileage when my knees start barking.  Adjust the running program to fit your body on any given day.  I have learned that because of my hip issues I need more rest in between runs, especially in preparation for a long run.  I may not run the prescribed distances during a given week but when I run my performance is good, physically and mentally.

#2)  Engage your mind.  The hardest part about running is not the physical but the mental.  Strengthening the mind is an important component of distance running.  I have tried lots of things to get stronger mentally.  I read, constantly.  This helps...I think.  I have loaded my ipod with the typical motivational tunes to cheer me on.  I have also listened to familiar music to keep me comfortable and entertained.  I have even gone wireless.  No earbuds, period.  The familiar stuff tends to neither motivate nor entertain.  For me, it becomes background noise for my brain to focus on the physical and mental distress of the moment.

Here is where I should say that I do not run recreationally.  This is not fun.  Competition is fun, but running is not.  It is for the competition effect plus the health benefits that I run.

Back to the tunes.  Lately, I am running to the orchestral sounds of Tchaikovsky.  Because I am not familiar with the music--it is richly complex--my mind becomes engaged.  Locked in and focused my run suddenly moves along hardly noticing the physical demands required.  My best thinking comes while running.  Ideas, plans, prayers, and even questions flow more readily.  May I recommend Tchaikovsky's masterpiece opera, Eugene Onegin?

#3)  Ignore time during training.  I am so competitive that this is a tough one.  My über competitive spirit probably is the chief cause of my running injuries.  Running hard too soon not only wears the joints prematurely but wears out the mind when seeking top performance every day plus on race day.  Just put the miles in and forget the time.  The time is irrelevant until you cross the start line.  Do the work of conditioning and preparation during training.  Compete during the race.  Maybe this is not practical advice for those of you trying to qualify for Boston.  I care deeply about time, but for now have learned not to care during training.  I will save up all that energy for the Pig.

With the words of Forrest Gump, an avid runner himself, I will conclude.

Now, you wouldn't believe it if I told you, but I could run like the wind blows.  From that day on, if I was going somewhere, I was running.

A Table

(poem written for and enclosed in the birthday card to my wife)

A Table

Standing in a room, stoic and strong
The grains move about like a well written song
Legs four always together and never bending
The top smooth and useful, ever extending

A grand host so many things to do
Place settings for family meals, especially cheese fondue
Clean and clear for Lego pieces piled up
Quiet for family to talk over a steaming cup

A piece of furniture, it holds an esteemed place
The centerpiece of the home, a symbol of grace
Not a spot to stash and store junk waiting to get rid of
But a gathering place for all to receive love, love, love

Upside Baseball

Several weeks ago I wrote right here that something big was coming.  That something big is here and ready to be announced. 

Please don't misunderstand.  This is NOT another 'Bron prime time decision, all drawn out to maximize ratings.  No, I am not moving to Miami, although I hear the weather and culture is very appealing.

The something big is that I am now a business owner!  Upside Baseball it is called, and I offer private baseball skill lessons and character development mentoring to kids ages 5 plus.  Customized lesson plans and success tracking devices are features of this new venture.  The benefit, of course, is a baseball experience for the whole person;  improved playing skills and maturing character all wrapped together.

I am just underway and there is still lots to do.  The website is not up and running quite yet but the facebook fan page is so search "Upside Baseball" and click "like".  Tell all your friends too.

Now go outside and play catch.  It is a great pick-me-up. 

Real World Theology

I wonder what it's like to be the rainmaker?
I wonder what it's like to know that I make the rain?

I would store it in boxes and be completely selfish, letting it out only to show off.  Rain storms would truly be storms, meant to push my authority onto the world.  See how big I am would ya!

God, the rainmaker, has a different purpose; that purpose much greater than I can understand completely.  Because of his great love, he sends the rains to nourish the earth; growing the new and purging the spent.  The beauty in every space is from God who is a creative creator.

I wonder what it's like to be a superhero?
I wonder where I'd go if I could fly around downtown?

I would get a high off impressing people with my powers.  Helping others in peril wold be about me, not them.  My friends would be pissed at me for being a showoff stuck on myself.

Jesus, my superhero, was about using his power; healing and forgiving those who approached him seeking relief.  Instead of these miracles propelling him to mass popularity, his actions of grace and mercy lead him to his death.  For God's glory, Jesus did these things; feeling the hurt of rejection and the weight of sin.

I wonder what it's like to be the head honcho?
I wonder what I'd do if they all did just what I said?

I would shout out orders, demanding I be served.  My interests would be first, not considering how my demands would change everything.  Being the boss does not inspire relationships but produces loneliness.

The Holy Spirit, the head honcho, is a still voice speaking into my life the things of God.  Everyday, the Spirit is hanging around because he lives within me.  Shaping my thoughts, moving my heart, directing my steps; the Spirit does not force himself upon me.  He gently asks me to follow God.

This is the real world.  This life is a hassle and daily grind.  God is in control.  Nothing is beyond his power.  Jesus came to demonstrate his Father's great love for us and to give us hope for his kingdom that is coming.  The Holy Spirit is motivating and moving us to that bright future when all the hassle will be gone.

Hang in.  The real-real world will be glorious!

Trash To Treasure Segment

My brilliant wife had a brilliant idea a few weeks ago.  Typical.  I can't get it out of my mind.

You see, she has always wanted a king sized bed.  Our bedroom space has never been large enough for such an item.  A couple of years back, we (she) re-assigned our bedrooms to give us the kind of space we have never had before.  Our mid-western style cape cod has an attic room which is roughly the size of the living room and kitchen combined.  We took the attic as the master suite while the kids share rooms on the main level.

Immediately, visions of royalty entered Hilary's mind as she sensed her wait for a king soon would be over.  Little did either of us know that getting the queen up to the castle would be a great challenge.  In fact, without the help of a neighbor we would still be in the normal sized bedroom we once occupied.

Mattresses are large and heavy, but spongy and flexible.  It was no problem folding that thing in half and hoisting it up the flight of stairs to the attic.  The box springs--now, that is a different proposition.  A rectangular frame made from wood does not go straight up the stairs at that angle.  Long story short, my neighbor helped me decide what horizontal segment of the frame to saw in half in order to get the "flex" we needed to beat the awkward angle created by the steepness of the staircase and the doorframe.  After a couple of hours wrestling with this thing, I was convinced that there was no way a king sized bed was going to happen.

Back to present, I am now convinced that Hilary has not stopped thinking about how to get her coveted king.  She read somewhere about a person who made their own bed out of loading pallets.  Yes, those wood frames that fork lift drivers use to move freight around quickly.  They stack up quickly outside of warehouses and grocery stores.  She told me I ought to make her a king sized bed out of these.

It really is a great idea.  Smile.

Century Mark (100 Songs for the 100th Post)

This is it, the 100th post of More Questions Than Answers. I thought I would make it a fun one since a good portion of the 99 are serious and rather depressing. If you have been reading since the beginning you know that the primary reason I starting blogging was for its therapeutic benefits. Music also displays these same therapeutic benefits.

The songs we fill our ipods with represent more than just entertainment. We get lost in the stories told as these songs convey emotions that reflect our place in this world or at least our place in this moment. The music we enjoy sits within a context of our own understanding of our experience.

So, let's make a list of 100 songs that make you smile, laugh and remember good times. Click the comment link below to contribute. Remember 100 songs for this century post. I'll start with the first 6:

1) Y.M.C.A by Village People

2) Your Smiling Face by James Taylor

3) You've Got A Friend In Me by Randy Newman

4) Where Everybody Knows Your Name (Cheers theme) by Gary Portnoy

5) You May Be Right by Billy Joel

6) Centerfield by John Fogerty

Now it's your turn.

Adventure Awaits

Twenty-Ten is here and I have to say that this, for me, is a most excellent time of year. In all honesty, I hate January because of the cold, but there is one feature that January possesses that more than makes up for its shortcomings. That feature being the month that introduces the new year.

I'm all revved up to initiate my 2010 life plan with includes a number of goals.

December is inventory time as I review and respond to the year that was. That process is complete when a new plan of action is written down to help me achieve my goals for the new year coming. When the plan is written I can very easily remember at anytime what my course is because I can look it up, while at the same time, when I feel lazy or lack focus, I am held accountable because what is written isn't going away.

I'm all fired up about this new year. Coming off the last six months, I have new energy and drive to see big things happen. I'm counting on disappointments and failures, but this year I'll be ready to make adjustments along the way. I am motivated beyond any level I can remember but not because I have more raw effort to give but because I think I'm smarter. What I mean is that I know myself better, so the large effort I do have will be contributed in a compound mixed with energy and flexible strategy.

I am inspired by the adventure/epic novels I have enjoyed reading. Books like the Lord of The Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia are addicting. Yes, I know this sounds lame, but I find my taste for risk taking palatable after reading. And how the excitement of these fictional adventures transfer into my life plans I don't know. It feels good though, like the high a runner gets from crossing the finish line.

And so it begins. The feelings of redemption with just the flip of the calendar. What new adventures are you planning to discover in 2010?

The Passing of Time

Jacoby tosses his bag onto the belt and progresses through the line waiting to board his flight. Another business trip, but not a welcome one after some long, tiring days and too many broken down deals. Shoe laces untied and I.D. in hand, Jacoby can do nothing but wait. Running on fumes, his eyes glass over in a perpetual glare; mind slowing down but with sharp, clear thoughts.

"How did this happen? How did I get here?," Jacoby silently reflects.

A small town boy growing up in a poor family, there was no such thing as opportunity. Jacoby always dreamed of getting out of that sleepy, hillbilly town, but his hopes were not rooted in a displeasure of his life but from a curiosity of his purpose. He loved his family and friends, even the town itself. But questions persisted; wonder about the future and the role he would play in the advancement of history. A day dreamer who would often consider what could be, Jacoby was a thinker, inspired by possibilities. There was something magical about a boyhood filled with almost nothing. There were neighborhood baseball games and an occasional campfire, bike rides and open fields. Apart from the simple pleasures of being a kid, the days were filled with unscripted leisure. Time to imagine, pretend, create and be lost in whatever world he wished.

Pondering these things, memories swirled in his mind prompting questions not unlike the days of his past. Filled with both confusion and awe as the memories flood, Jacoby's stare loosens as the line toward the departure gate inches forward. Suddenly a flight announcement blared and jerked Jacoby's gaze out of focus and his attention back to the line he was standing in. Wondering how long he had been napping, Jacoby guesses it was only a minute or two as the line continued to slither through the terminal.

A man, tall and appearing disheveled, standing just one place ahead of Jacoby, turned around and gazed at the busy activity around him. The man dropped his boarding pass and Jacoby bent down to retrieve the creased card.

"Sir," Jacoby declared in an inquisitive tone. "You dropped this," extending his hand toward the man.

"Oh, thank you. I can't go anywhere without this," the man replied.

"No problem...Where you headed?"

"San Diego...I've got family business out there."

As the small talk persists, Jacoby feels a bit renewed with conversation. Continuing, Jacoby replies, "We're on the same flight. Headed there myself. I've got some clients to check on."

The line to the gate dwindles as the men continue their conversation. Nearing the gate, Jacoby is interrupted by a vibrating pulse from his front pant pocket; an incoming message from his phone.

"Excuse me a moment," Jacoby interjects politely. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out his phone and sees a text from his wife. It reads, "Call me when you land. Go some BIG news!!"

"Sorry about that, it was my wife checking in."

"I understand. Everything OK?," the man responds.

"Yea, she's excited about something. I'll get the scoop later tonight."

"You know what? I didn't catch your name. Mine is Jacoby Kincaid."

"I'm David...David Crosley, nice to meet you."

With mutual pleasure the two men acknowledge their formal introduction with a nod and proceed through the gate. Shuffling their belongings out of their pockets and onto the x-rayed conveyor belt.

Hickory

A chill rips across the rolling, gray hillside. The sharp whistle signals to all who are alert, and reminds as if forgotten, that life must give way to death. A lone tree, high atop the barren pasture, sways majestically as if keeping watch; as it seems, fulfilling an assignment of sorts. This tree, old and gnarled, thick waisted, hoisting its long, spiraling limbs; absorbs the cold wind, surrendering its leaves and nuts to the hillside below.

A man approaches, bent with age but strong in breath, carrying a bag, stops to smell the hickory. The damp but earthy aroma, blunt with rustic flavor, reminds the man of younger days. He has made his appointment with the hickory to collect its harvest. This hillside, this tree, is an entry point, calling back memories of lessons learned and life experienced--recalling how those before have lead and wondering how those behind will carry forth. Leisurely the old man collects the nuts in the bag, admitting with his pace that his real purpose here is the emotions.

Looking down, the man sees a hickory nut partially embodied by its heavy outer shell, dried enough to have lost a segment of the shell all by itself. Wrenching his fingers around the shell, the man attempts to loosen the other segments. The man, wise in years, cannot muster the strength to rid the small nut from its shell, so he retrieves a blade from his right pants pocket. "Ray Kincaid" the engraving reads, saying it aloud. With his mind recalling his father, Ray clutches the nut and sits down on a nearby rock.

"It's been years since my last visit," he considers as his boney fingers fumble around with the knife prying off the nut's shell.

Ray's father brought him here as a boy; every fall, to collect the nuts. He remembers enjoying the time spent with his father; the hike, the weather, the hope he felt while working along side him. Lost with these memories, the wind ratchets up in force and the tree above can be heard moaning and creaking, sending a flurry of leaves and nuts crashing down. Steadying himself on the rock, Ray hears something like a voice calling out. He looks around but sees no one. "Crazy wind," he mumbles under his breath.

Finally able to rid the hickory nut of its outer shell, Ray drops it into his bag, looks up into sky and says, "Thanks Dad." The feelings toward his past continued to pour out as he thought of his father.

Ray was sure glad he came today--to this place--understanding that something right was happening. Glancing down and spotting a small group of hickory nuts, he went back to work.

A Theory as Strong as Newton's

A long held theory became as strong and unwavering as any Newton ever devised and proved. Let's call it the "red shirt-wedding" theory.

This past weekend, the family gathered in Bridgeport, Connecticut for my brother-in-law's wedding. Because of the culture of that part of the country and its particular style, I was afraid my theory would crash and burn. My theory states that every wedding has at least one guy who wears a red dress shirt. Coat and tie are irrelevant details and the actual red color can be any variation.

Even my brother-in-law, who is aware of my research and generally supports the theory, was in doubt about its success. The whole wedding party and close friends were instructed to be on the lookout for the "red shirt guy." This theory was discussed all week leading up to the wedding and all of us were preparing for a big let down.

I gladly report with exuberance that upon arrival at the church, I did not even have to get out of the car to see the "red shirt" guy. He had arrived just ahead of me and was standing in the doorway. Touchdown! There are times when I don't spot this person until the reception, but not this time. As as aside, just so you don't think this occurrence is a fluke, another red shirt guy appeared at the reception. Bonus!

Please don't congratulate me for research well completed. Anyone could have done it; it only takes a vision and a little hard work. With a dream and a plan, you too can discover a whole new world.

A Man of Means

In a hurry, Jacoby presses the button signaling the elevator down as he slings his three button jacket across his shoulders while checking the status of his cross country flight from his phone. Quickly losing the signal as the elevator doors close, Jacoby slides the ultra sleek, do it all device into his right pant pocket. Having a few moments of pause descending from the 59th floor, Jacoby scanned the small chamber looking to make small talk.

Jacoby Allen Kincaid was a pro at working a crowd. Jacoby is to rapport building as Twain is to Americana. The ability to find something in common with those he met was his speciality. Meeting people was an exercise of networking, a regimen where strangers do not exist and fatigue never comes. Thus his ascent to the high rise of success as an executive in the advertising business. A man of messages with a circle of influence unlike any who has shared his name.

The elevator lunges downward as Jacoby notices the man standing next to him in a pair of black, single strap Sergio Rossi's. This Italian shoe maker was a customer, and a good one, committing significant sums to high gloss, upscale magazine ads and a championship tennis sponsorship.

"Hey, nice shoes," Jacoby insists, turning his shoulders squarely toward the man.

Put off by the random compliment, the man stretches a smile and nods.

"My name is Kincaid and I work upstairs. Love to get your opinion on those shoes for an ad campaign my team is developing."

"Listen, I'm late for a meeting," the man responds, obviously annoyed with friendly chatter. He straightens his tie and tunnels his stare into the mirrored elevator doors shutting down any indication of his interest to talk.

Jacoby leans forward and in a confident tone says, "No problem, we can meet for lunch next week." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jacoby grabs a card and steps forward presenting it to the man in the fancy shoes. "If you're not happy with the comfort or look of the pair your wearing", clinching his jaw with inquisitive eyes, "tell me and I'll ensure your complete satisfaction."

Sensing something for nothing, the man takes his hand out of his pocket, accepts the card and smiles. "Yea, how about I call you next week?"

"I'll look forward to it," says Jacoby reaching to shake his hand.

As the handshake consummated the business exchange the bell toned and the doors to the 23rd floor opened. The fancy shoe man, who suddenly felt empowered, exited as others rushed onto the platform.

Blogging: A Year In Review

It has been a year now since I begun this writing adventure More Questions Than Answers and I feel like I should assess where I have been and make a conclusion about where I am going with this little writing hobby. When I started last June the idea was to create a space to do three primary things. The first purpose was to have an outlet for ideas and random questions that stir inside of me that often did not get expressed. Some of my closest friends are ones that I would often have face-to-face conversation with where ideas and questions were discussed. Some of these friends are near and some are far as life has a way of scattering us for various reasons. It is hard to let a good thing go, so I thought this blog would be a good opportunity to stay connected and continue the dialogue. Jobs, growing families, and other such responsibilities have a knack of getting in the way of weekend visits or extended phone calls with these friends.

The second purpose was to engage in a different kind of ministry activity. Not holding responsibility in targeted, formal ministry now for two years I wanted to be active doing something that someone may find productive and useful. Writing for this blog has prompted me to think in different ways and given me motivation to study. Not sure how these entries the past year has benefited any of its readers (if at all), but personally this blogging exercise has been a sharpening tool to keep me from slumping into apathy and self absorption.

Lastly, the purpose of this space is simply for myself. I am learning that writing can be a therapeutic retreat. I say that my faith is a daily grind and writing has become a way of managing the highs and lows in my attempt at faithfulness. There is something about public expression that creates vulnerability. For some this is a scary concept but the risk is worth the effort as I have found that I am not the only one with doubt, fear, and disappointments.


A year ago when I first began writing I decided that I did not want this blog to be a journal or scrapbook exclusively, hoping to find a middle ground so that everyone in my social network would find something here that would be of interest. Again, not sure what I have accomplished. I believe I will continue to write, at least for now. I have other writing projects I am working on, probably words you will never see or hear me talk about. One thing this blog has not done is give me confidence in writing. These new projects are a result of private energy and ones that will hopefully be something my family will view and value. To tell the truth, my ability to crank out a weekly entry is being hampered by these other projects. Maybe that is good, maybe not.

They say the toughest critic is the self critic and I would agree (whoever 'they' is). The bottom line is that I think I have been able to stick with my three fold purpose all the while having fun. If you are a regular visitor let me say 'thanks' for participating. Hope we can spend more time visiting as the ideas and questions continue.

Teacher's Week In NCH

Last week was Teacher Appreciation Week at Clovernook Elementary School. My wife, Hilary, and I have had an on-going conversation about being involved in the local schools where our kids attend so as to contribute toward a positive educational experience. So Hilary joined the PTA and volunteered to head up a campaign to honor the teachers and staff at Clovernook. I say "campaign" because that is what she made it, an over-the-top expression to say "thanks" for all the work and the care they display to our children.

Hilary did a wonderful job serving the educators and support staff. She had an advantage as a former teacher, knowing what teachers do and how best they would feel appreciated. She set up camp there all week serving breakfast and lunch each day. If you know Hilary you know she went all out as a hostess--no pre-packaged or pre-processed meals! She thoughtfully prepared whole meals with all the fixings. In addition, she had gifts to distribute and encouragement notes to deliver which made the week that much more meaningful. The combination of demonstrated service with considerate words is a powerful formula.

Hilary's efforts serving the school was fantastic but she did not work alone. The best part of the week was her ability to engage the North College Hill community. Local businesses rallied behind her effort to ensure the staff at Clovernook knew of their confidence and support. The majority of the food was donated and and all the gifts were supplied by these same, local businesses. Hilary organized a group of parents who volunteered to serve as recess monitors so the teachers could sit down and enjoy their already short lunch break. Teacher Appreciation Week was a community effort showcasing what it looks like when we serve one another.

The week of serving was a success all because of an outward focused attitude. The staff at Clovernook seemed genuinely overwhelmed with gratitude, and I imagine that the students in the classrooms also experienced a re-energized application of service to them. Hat tip to Hilary for giving us an example and leading us toward a selfless community lifestyle.

All Children Left Behind

The education system in this country is broken and it's going to take BIG ideas to make the necessary corrections. I have been concerned about the way we do schools for some time and now more than ever since my children are entering them. Education has become big business, not only at the graduate level but also at the grade school level both public and private. Any time motivation points toward dollars and cents and the pursuit to collect heaping mounds of it, purpose and focus change (even if it is unintentional). Schools are marketing themselves using achievement test scores, facilities/amenities and athletics. What ever happened to judging a school by it's curriculum, quality of educators and track record for meeting students needs no matter where they fall on the academic scale? It seems to me that schools are trying hard to see how many students and families they can attract and enroll instead of making sure the students that are enrolled can think, communicate, write, comprehend, analyze, draw conclusions, and form new ideas of their own.

At the High School level the point seems to be all about preparing every student for college. This is a shift I think, but I cannot explain how it used to be because when I was in HS I too was being prepped for college. Can I say that I don't think everyone is cut out for college? Elitist snobbery at its best, right? Let me finish. Really though, do you think every student should be instructed the same way? Not everyone can be white collar executives or 9 to 5 specialist. Why? Because they just can't; the skill set and personality compatibility doesn't fit. It sounds so simple. Why make it hard? Generally speaking, HS students should have a feel for their natural gifts and abilities. At the very least, they should be well aware of their interests. Let's build on that educationally instead of forcing every student into the same mold. At this stage the fundamentals rule and I wonder if we're not pressing ahead so that SAT results are satisfactory and college entrance essays are crafted just right?

At the University level the emphasis seems to be the indoctrination of a particular political or religious point of view while doing job training for future employers. The University used to be for the elite minds, those who had an aptitude and interest in research and training in fields that maintain and advance society's systems as a whole. The best of the best were needed in areas such as government, law, medicine, business, philosophy, science and others I surely left out. It used to be a privilege to attend college, instead enrollment beyond HS graduation has become an entitlement. Now every college is crammed full and new ones are popping up just in time to get in on this new big business. Are we producing smarter, well-rounded young adults as a result?

Whose fault is it that education has gone this way? Has government interfered by trying to universalize learning? Let me answer that one--Yes. Where does the responsibility lie with parents? I can answer that one too. Parents (um, that's me now) are primarily responsible for the growth and development of children. Shame on us for not asking enough questions or being involved in the school experience. It's our fault for not nurturing and watching them grow; identifying their gifts and interests and then giving them opportunities to mature and excel in these areas.

I'm not angry. I'm a parent who wants to take control and do this thing right. The next generation demands my active participation and purposeful effort. I've written about this generational thing before as it pertains to financial stability. Read my post called FPU Lessons In Legacy to get more. Education is tied to occupation which is tied to standard of living, so changes on how we're doing education in this country has to change. By standard of living I don't mean rich, poor, or this un-defined or mis-defined category of middle class. I'm tired of the daily interactions with disgruntled and under performing people who'd rather be someplace else but aren't because the current educational climate beats them down with money, status, career, and standard of living hype. To have a high standard of living means to be living the life not that you've always dreamed of, but achieving what you CAN achieve and BE who you are naturally as gifted. My role as a parent (as established by myself) is to ensure the fundamentals are mastered and then help direct my children into their areas of giftedness and interest and then present them opportunities to develop the skills necessary to live the high life. This isn't going to be easy but I'm game.

I Think I'm Onto Something

More Questions Than Answers is the title of this cockamamy blog. I want this blog, and in particular my writings, to be a blend of varying styles; some scrap booking type posts along with some entries that have the feel of a personal journal. Mostly, I want this to be a place to explore questions that seemingly have no answer or have a hundred viable answers.

A big question that remains unanswered revolves around one of the great mysteries of life: the nature of women. There is not a man in the history of the universe (I know, except for Jesus.) who can honestly claim he has women figured out. This is not to say that to be in the company of a woman is a bad thing; it is not. Sometimes knowing them and pleasing them is a difficult thing.

I love my married life. Let me rephrase...I love my life with Hilary. The previous sentence seemed a bit impersonal. I need to communicate clearly that I am not just an ordinary, married man but a man who is married to a woman that makes my life great. (Since Hilary will be reading this, I want to make sure I am not posed with questions that I cannot answer.)

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, so I wanted to really do it right. In the past I have struggled in the area of gift giving. I have spent way too much time and money trying to get that one special gift that would memorialize V-Day. I have tried everything both discretionary and practical. Gifts like perfume, flowers, candy, trinkets, jewelry, even kitchen utensils and pantry supplies have not seemed to hit the mark. Doing extra chores around the house and running errands, although appreciated, have missed too. This year I decided not to acquire more stuff that strains the budget and really gives little indication of how much I love her. Strangely, gifts have a knack for being dispassionate. My gift to her was simply being with her, engaged in meaningful activities and conversation together. Listen, I know this is not a sexy gift, but with three small children, time to talk and be together alone is a rarity. We had a wonderful time.

I think I was able to add a single piece to the complex puzzle. Life still throws out many questions, but after Valentine's Day 2009 the one about women is a point closer to being almost halfway answered.

Snow Days

This is day two of a wintry blast that has kept me inside. I am running out of things to do. There is only so much reading and animated movie watching (school was canceled and the kids needed entertainment so cut me some slack) I can mentally tolerate. So with the extra days, I've managed to play lots of Wii (please don't misunderstand), work a 300 piece puzzle, play Chutes & Ladders and Sorry!, try my hand at photography (see pics above and below) and shovel lots of snow.

These last two days have been both good and bad. I have enjoyed these relaxed days with my family. It has been a much needed retreat that I often neglect. With these days spent with my wife and children the good has far outweighed the bad. The laughs and hugs has every bit been worth the breach of routine.

Since my schedule has been destroyed the last two days the time has allowed for much more daily reading. This is good in that I am thoroughly enjoying Hague's biography on Wilberforce. But with more time means more reflection, and I shouldn't prolong the inner dialogue with myself. This usually means that my search for contentment intensifies and satisfaction for how I'm living my life wanes. Reading about William Wilberforce and living in a world of sorrow makes me want to do something big and important. Sometimes I wonder, "Is this all there is for me?" Don't get me wrong. I love my life; my family and friends. I'm not so sure I love my place in this world. It's just that I'm mostly not convinced that I'm living up to my potential. I dream and wonder about how I could make a greater contribution and then am reminded of (seemingly) my limitations. My mind gets all twisted up and so it is difficult to flesh all of this out. We have a rule in our house about speaking nonsense, so I must obey and stop now.

Well I'm off to the Winter X Games, er I mean outside to shovel snow and chip ice off my car!

Crutch

Week 1 of 18 done. I just finished my first long run of the year. Halfway through I realized that I had forgotten my knee strap which eases the pain from the patella tendonitis. I finished with only a slight twinge. The Flying Pig is only 17 weeks away.

Goals For the New Year

Let me be the first to say that I am fully aware of all the changes I need to make. I'm pretending you haven't already made my list of changes under your breath or in your thoughts. You don't have to tell me, I know.

The nod of the New Year has always been (as long as I can remember) a time of recovery for me. I have a strong contempt for the winter months as the cold, dormant days seem to stir mood swings more than usual. The two things that keep me moving as I try to stay warm is looking forward to when pitchers and catchers report (in February) and the focus of big new ideas for the new year. Sometimes these ideas aren't so new. Things like losing weight or being a better husband seem to make the list every year.

Most everyone makes some sort of resolution as the big ball drops. I'm no exception, although I prefer the word goals. Usually right after Thanksgiving I start thinking about all the things I'd like to accomplish or achieve during the upcoming 12. After Christmas I write them down, and as I remember throughout the years, the list has changed. Sometimes it's a list of simple declarative statements and other times it's more like an outline with objectives and dates. I have alot to do this year; things I want to accomplish and things I just need to do.

Why is it that some (unofficial stats found on Google show most) who make resolutions never experience the pride of achievement? I admit that I don't always achieve every goal. Most are achieved but some are not. I think it would be stupid of me to try to make a judgment about another person's intent or motivation. I won't go there. It's only fair to analyze my own inner workings. My problem is desire. I have it, lots of it and I usually attribute a lack of desire to those who struggle doing the things they say their going to do. I typically say something arrogant like, "If you want it bad enough then you'll do what it takes." I'm sure there are other items needed besides desire to reach your goals; like time, resources, relationships, money, and for the circumstances to fall into place.

For me, achieving my goals is not exclusively about me. Yea, it will feel good personally when I lose 20 pounds. I'll look better plus the reduction in waist line will deliver greater health. I want to lose the extra pounds so I can be better for the people around me; those I love. So my Sunday afternoon distance runs are for my wife and kids just as much as for me. I think it's this kind of desire that encourages and drives me. When I think about how my list of things will affect others around me then I start making some headway. Maybe this sounds like rationalization. If it is then I've got alot of work to do. I said that already.