From Another Time...

“Welcome to the land of make believe!” As a child, whenever I heard those words spoken my heart would skip a beat and I would imagine life as it could be while riding on locomotives and spending time with characters from my favorite children’s books. Because well, the Land of Make Believe was a small theme park in Pennsylvania and those words were spoken on the television in my home several times a day during the summer months when the amusement park made most of its money for the year. I recently heard that this park was closed and I was saddened. I don’t really know what disappointed me about this news, because truth be told, it wasn’t a very nice theme park. The rides, of which there were not many, were poorly maintained and operated by strange people who had decided to stop their wandering carnival caravan in western Pennsylvania in the hopes that enough people would come and pay for them to eke out a living.

But my thoughts about this now closed theme park are merely reflections from the mind of a 30 year old; someone who has been to Disneyworld and Universal Studios. I have been blessed with the opportunity to visit cities like Paris and currently live in the “big apple.” The Land of Make Believe has been transformed by the mind’s eye as the result of other experiences, which I have deemed better than those formed by my time spent there many summers ago. But, if I stop to think about that place and what it meant then, it suddenly takes on a whole new meaning. As a young child, I didn’t know about all of those other theme parks. My world was much smaller, and a trip to the park to ride on my sled after a snowstorm was much more exciting than shaking hands with some overgrown mouse with blank eyes and a psychotic smile. And more than being young, my parents were young. Young and struggling. As a young child my mother chose to stay at home to raise my brother and I, and my father drove 25 city blocks to work at a small machine shop. Although my memories are not ones of longing for a better life, as an adult it is easier to see that my parents worked very hard to create a home that convinced me that I had it all and it did not come at a cost. And the Land of Make Believe, while small and insignificant, represented a financial sacrifice that my parents were willing to make to bring my brother and I to a place we believed we needed to visit.

Looking back on the time spent there, frames a lot of other experiences I had growing up with loving parents. As a young child, my parents took a couple’s vacation to Mexico. While they were there they purchased a small, iridescent donkey made of paper, called a piñata. When they returned from their trip I remember the joy on their faces as they gave me this present they had brought from a far away place exclaiming, “it is filled with toys and candy!!” As a child, I could not imagine how this small object could contain all the latest action figures, race cars, and Kit Kat bars I could crave, but the look of joy on their faces convinced me my imagination was clearly stifled. So, I took a stick and pounded away at that paper donkey. After several whacks I finally landed the definitive blow which resulted in the small animal splitting in the center. As the two pieces fell to the floor, I remember the confusion that overcame me when there was nothing in the center of the donkey. I thought it might have been a cruel trick being played by my father, but the look of horror and simultaneous disappointment on both of my parents’ faces communicated this was no joke. This was a mistake. THEY were supposed to fill the piñata and now their son was confused by the empty hole in his paper toy. I don’t remember what happened next in that small family drama. I think the memory of their faces and my reaction to the empty donkey clouded my ability to encode the events that followed. But, as I look back on that day I see it as another example of two people thinking of their child (my brother was not yet born) and trying their best to create a house of plenty for him. Two people who loved their little family, and despite their struggles wanted their child to have it all.

All of these thoughts have flooded my mind because yesterday I landed in another land of make believe. The land of Los Angeles, where adults write fantastic stories and grown men are paid to blow up cars. Where 50 year old women undergo extensive plastic surgery in order to extend their career a couple more years, and everyone “does lunch” to seal the next big deal in television or film. But, in this land of make believe, this la la land of southern California I have been blessed to visit the home of an old college friend. A guy, who not completely unlike my own family has married, has a soon to be four year old child, and is expecting his second on February 18th. A guy who left the east coast to pursue his own dream of success in this land of make believe and who in the process has started a family.

Each morning we awake and sit at the breakfast table. There is always tea, toast, cold cereal, and a small glass of orange juice. The apartment is small, but is filled with a warmth and love that makes the space precious. Earlier this year, my friend completed his first feature film and is in the process of trying to sell the film so that it will be distributed. While I was not around for the work that has been done for him to get to this point it is hard to capture in words the struggles and sacrifices that have been made to get here. Money borrowed from family and friends, numerous meetings with studios to get space, long hours spent writing and drawing storyboards to ensure efficient work time. But, in the midst of these struggles a family is growing and two young people are striving to build their relationship and provide their child with all of the things she needs and wants. As an adult, our recollections and the stories shared by older family members are the windows through which we understand our past. Sometimes, though, we are blessed with experiences that allow us to witness firsthand the things we were unable to fully understand when we were younger. My time here is a gift from God. As a guest in my friend’s home I am able to experience through the eyes of an adult the struggles my own parents underwent to get me to the place I am at today. It has also allowed me to see the power of love and its ability to transform every situation. Even those filled with hardship and sacrifice. People often wonder what life is all about. Why are we here? What is the meaning of all of this, or if there is any meaning at all? For me, the answer has always been to love. God’s love for us is more than we can ever comprehend, but his hope for us is to extend the love he has shown for us with those we encounter in our daily life.

And so as I spend time in this land of make believe I am reminded of the sacrifices and love given to me in my early childhood from my parents. And I am encouraged to watch another family, in the early stages of their own growth together, striving to make their dreams a reality while lovingly raising a child who will grow to have her own hopes and dreams. Dreams that will someday take her to her very own land of dreams, land of hopes, land of make believe.

Thryonomys swinderianus

(WARNING- THIS ARTICLE WILL BE CONSIDERED OFFENSIVE- APOLOGIES TO ALL WHO READ BUT THE AUTHOR ACKNOWLEDGES HIS IGNORANCE WHILE STILL FEELING THE NEED TO RANT)

The title of this blog refers to the scientific name applied to what is commonly known as the Greater Cane Rat. According to Wikipedia "it inhabits Africa, south of the Saharan Desert, lives by reedbeds and riverbanks, and can grow about two feet long weighing a little less than 19 lb (8.6 kg)." In other words this rat can kick any NYC rat's ass!! People who grow up in NYC are well aware of the rat infestation problem. A bestselling nonfiction book called Rats: Observations on the History and Habitat of the City's Most Unwanted Inhabitants recounts how these little guys actually run NY. On any given day, whether it be extremely late at night or early in the morning (in most cases both, depending on your point of view) we have all seen these furry friends scampering about the train tracks, sometimes being bold enough to join us on the platform.

Everyone reacts differently to these creatures. Some are horrified, some tolerant, and some think they would be fun to play with in a lab (so they take them to the leading scientific institutes and feed them cocaine, make them run mazes, and sometimes open their brain and attach electrodes to understand numerous biological mechanisms). The rare new yorker will actually think them cute, and want to take one home and keep it in a glass cage. But, I have yet to hear a friend, random passerby, or acquantance look at one of these little guys and say, "dinner!"

But two weeks ago I went to see a movie called "No Time To Die" which featured an important dinner scene where the entree was Thryonomys swinderianus or as it was called in the film, Grasscutter. Now what was particularly great about the choice of cane rat for dinner in the movie was how special it was to eat. If rat were to become a regular menu item in NYC, I would imagine it to sit alongside cart food or Gray's Papaya Hot Dogs. You know, cheap and not healthy. But in the film, the main character secured this dish to be cooked at a betrothing dinner. He searched for the finest grasscutter so that the girl of his dreams was sure to remain faithful to him. As the character's licked their grasscutter covered fingers, it was clear this was a meal to remember and Asante (the main character) had in all respects "sealed the deal" with the woman of his dreams.

Over a hundred years ago, Lobster was considered peasant food. As a bottom dweller of the sea, lobster was salted and canned and fed to the poor. It is a testament to marketing and clarified butter that we now are willing to pay high prices at the finest restaurants to eat what was once given to the destitute. So, it got me thinking. Maybe we are looking at the whole rat problem in NYC from the wrong vantage point. Imagine a NYC where rats are served only at five star restaurants and the girl you are taking to Rue Rodente for the friday night date is expecting you to propose to her, because there would be no other reason to take her out for such fine food? It sounds like a win-win situation to me? But first, we need to feed our rats what those grasscutters get in Africa.

Piss like the Hulk

Since I was a child I have always had an unhealthy obsession with the Incredible Hulk. I capitalize the title, because the Hulk is worthy of capitalization. Even as an adult, I am occasionally reminded by family members (during large gatherings when I have friends with me) that when I was a kid I would often come storming into the room, tear off my shirt, and bust out my best Hulk impersonation to the amusement of my aunts and uncles.

One of my first childhood toys was a stretch Hulk figure, which allowed you to pull on his arms, which would eventually return to their normal length and shape. Great idea, unless you were a kid like me and pulled too hard. Suddenly your Hulk doll is oozing green goo from the neck and his arms are no longer so stretchy.

Recently, I came across a scrapbook I had created in highschool. Littered on the pages were stories from the paper about the baseball teams I had played for as a kid and class pictures from the first couple of years I attended school. But, smack in the middle of the book was a torn sheet of paper which contained my first attempt at writing a short story. My memory flooded and I recalled attempting to write this story the day after the last televised movie of the Hulk ever aired on networks. The movie was appropriately titled, "The Death of the Incredible Hulk!" I was apparently appalled by the decision to kill off such a vital franchise hero and I took it out on my typewriter. The next morning I started what was to become my magnum opus, "The Hulk Lives!!"

I only filled 2/3 rds of one page.

I guess I was not as passionate as I thought about ensuring a longer life for my childhood hero. But, nevertheless, I felt the need to write the story at the time.

Yes, I have seen both Hulk feature films, and both on opening night. Sick, I know. But since the Ed Norton film came out I have not thought much of the green goliath. I have moved on to more mature films and heroes. You know, like Nacho Libre. But recently my mind wandered to my jade colored friend when I started taking a new vitamin.

I have not been feeling well for quite some time now, and in times of desperation you are willing to try anything in the hope of some relief. So, last week when no one was looking (well I was in my bedroom alone so of course no one was looking) I popped a multi-vitamin in the hopes it might make me feel a tad better. The pill was about as big as a golfball and Im pretty sure it started dissolving as soon as I put it on my tongue cause it left the taste of melted tar in my mouth for about 15 minutes. I waited for my body to feel better, but much to my shock this nasty tasting vitamin did absolutely nothing. That was, of course, until I had to go to the bathroom several hours later.

As I made my way to the restroom I was unprepared for the experience I was about to have. To make a long story short, my urine was neon green! Think classic gatorade flavor. I was shocked and amused at this development. Maybe that vitamin contained traces of gamma radiated material and I was slowly mutating into my childhood superhero. To what extent did this vitamin change my internal make up? If I was pissing green maybe my eyes were going to turn green and I would soon be able to leap the height of some of the tallest new york skyscrapers!

I decided to test it out. As I left my apartment I noticed that the bus I often take was slowly creeping away from the stop. With my new green piss, would I also be also blessed with super human Hulk-like speed? I ran to catch the bus. Pushing myself to the limit, I nearly caught the back of the directional light, but the bus pulled away and I was left walking to the train. Guess the speed thing had not yet kicked in. But, as I approached the train station I was given my second opportunity. As I entered the turnstile I realized my train was about to depart and I arrived at the door as it was closing. I decided to use my new superhuman strength to tear the doors open and ensure I would be a passenger on this very train. But, alas, the door did not open and the train took off leaving me to wait for the next one to arrive.

So, all I got from that crummy vitamin was a bowl full of green pee. But, it was nice to revisit an old childhood friend, and just for a bit, HULK OUT!

Yesterday seems to have been a meaningful day for my friend "Kareem" and I. We had an unplanned visit with one of his friends in Bryant Park, and as is often the case when three people get together, some interesting and unplanned reflections on life ensued. I shared with my friends that I was troubled to hear that my aunt was refusing to attend her sister's wedding. Several factors in the situation caused these uneasy feelings.

First, I am approaching the end of a three year experience of living with my one and only brother. It has been a difficult three years, far harder than I ever imagined it would be. When I think back on the time, what makes me most sad is the fact that we will most likely be parting ways less close than we were at the start of our rooming adventure. What makes me sadder is the fact that I have no control over this. I have made numerous mistakes, been selfish or insensitive, and often been difficult to live with. I have admitted to some of these things :-) in dialogue with my brother. At the end of the day, however, I am unable to restore or change things to be better than their current state. I can only pray and hope to respond well when an opportunity for reconciliation presents itself.

Second, earlier this year my grandmother was very abruptly diagnosed with cancer. She died within a couple of months and the effects sent many aftershocks in a large family that had grown distant over the past ten years. Personal choices, old rivalries, and just good old geographical distance had taken its toll on the relationships between many of my 8 aunts and uncles and the loss of their mother presented in my mind only one potential positive. That this sudden loss would re-awaken the faith of my family and would remind us all that each day is a gift. This reminder, I was sure, would be the start of healing and forgiveness that had been for so long ignored. However, only a few months into this year, what remains clear is that wounds take long to heal, and a tragic and confusing loss has not provided the impetus for change I thought it would.

In a couple of days one of my aunts will be getting married for the second time. She is pregnant with her fiance's child and this has caused great distress in the minds and hearts of some of her siblings. As a result, some of my relatives have refused to support the union and will not be going to her wedding. Yesterday, in conversation with "Kareem and company" I struggled to come to terms with what this decision means in the context of being a Christian and a brother who is currently struggling in his own sibling relationship. I am currently not able to change things with my brother, yet I am standing and watching my Aunt make the choice to maintain and worsen the rift with her sister.

The larger question which was explored with my friends in the park was the manner in which we often handle our disapproval of another's behavior as a Christian. We believe that Jesus Christ died for our sins and that because of His sacrificial death and perfect life we are forgiven and brought into a right relationship with God. We believe that we continue to sin, but that through the power of the Holy Spirit we are being conformed into the image of Christ. We believe we are called to love and forgive as God loves and forgives us and thus re-enact the Gospel in our daily lives. We believe we are called to hold one another accountable in love, out of a desire for others to be able to grow in their relationships with Christ.

Yet, so often instead of practicing these behaviors of love and forgiveness and accountability, we withhold. We show our disapproval of another's behavior by withholding. This is nearly always hurtful for the person on the receiving end and two (along with many other) things often result. The person who is withholding affirms their own righteousness by refusing to condone the behavior, which makes them feel superior to the other person. They are right and the other is wrong. This merit based system is exactly what Jesus condemned the Pharisees for. Second, the person who is being withheld from feels shame and sadness.

The rift that ensues is particularly damaging on many levels. In Christian community, many struggle to share with others the sins in their life for fear that the above dynamic would ensue. As a result, no one shares and people wrongly assume that those around them live perfect lives. The result is a stagnant community that cannot grow in love and grace. In addition, God has created us to live in community. It is one place for us to experience His love for us in a tangible way. When we experience this in community it can also damage our personal relationship with God because we ultimately start to fear what it means to come to Him with our sins as well. We wrongly displace the behavior of our peers onto an all loving, just, and merciful Father and our relationship with Him suffers.

In the end I believe attending this wedding provides an opportunity to move in the direction of healing. By going, my Aunt can communicate with her actions an unconditional love for her younger sister. By making that choice she contributes to the possibility of growing closer and healing some of the wounds that got them both to the place they find themselves in today. But, even more, by choosing to love at this time provides her with the chance to affect positive change in her sister's life in the future. After many of Jesus's healings (both physical and spiritual) He said "you are forgiven, go and sin no more." How can this be re-enacted if there is no relationship to begin with?