Looking for Care in All the Wrong Places

A few weeks ago, I bumped into an old coworker at Walmart. Yes, Walmart. I don’t like shopping there but it’s the closest store to our farm and they usually supply what we demand so funds are exchanged for goods. It’s capitalism 101. Hate it as much as you want, Walmart won’t cease to exist if my family stops shopping there. This is not a story about the deeds or misdeeds of America’s largest brick and mortar retailer. That’s a conversation for another time.

Rather, it’s a story about how we got here. A consumer and an employee, both former colleagues and cogs in a machine who have found peace and happiness in new and wildly different machines. Our former lives were spent within the confines of a call center. He a supervisor and I an administration analyst. We were both in leadership roles, the only difference being he had direct reports and I did not.

For those of you who are not familiar with the term, call centers are businesses with one sole purpose - to be the telephone point of contact of a multitude of industries. From your bank to your utilities, airlines to insurance, and everything in between. If you call the 800 number advertising “how’s my driving?” on the back of a semi truck or the “dial for assistance” sign when stuck in an elevator, those calls go to a call center. Inbound and outbound calls, customer service, collections, telemarketing, tech support, all of it is call center work. As long as people want to know why their bill is so high or complain when things aren’t working like they should, there will always be a demand for call centers.

During the course of my professional life, I’ve worked in three different call centers - a major television provider, a credit card company, and a telecommunications corporation. Not everything I endured was bad; my experiences varied from curious sheer luck to something torn from the pages of Dante’s Inferno. Most people I know who have suffered call center work probably identify with the latter - it’s pure hell.

As an industry, call centers have a 30-40% attrition rate. Out of every 100 employees that get hired at a call center, 30 to 40 of them quit or get fired within their first year. There are some call centers with 100% attrition rates, constantly striving to backfill vacant positions. I’m not sure what the attrition rate was at my office, but I do know the “now hiring” sign out front was never taken down during the seventeen and a half years I worked there.

There was a recurring joke I told throughout my tenure: “By the time I finally quit this place, I’ll be able write a book filled with true stories so outlandish people would think it’s fiction.” Now that I have quit, I feel like there are some big expectations to fulfill. I might write that book some day. Oh the stories I could tell. Tales of drugs, sex, lies, murder, nazis, theft, and the pain caused when general incompetence is given the reins of power. All in due time.

Back to Walmart.

I was making a late night venture to pick up some bird grain and pig feed. As I walked from the pet food isles toward the grocery department, I noticed a familiar face stocking the shelves with paper towels. Just a glance but I kept walking as my brain tried to reconcile a Walmart uniform covering the body of someone I’m used to seeing dressed in business casual. Once my synapses realized the unmistakable face I spotted three steps behind was indeed who I thought it was, I pumped the brakes in a cartoonish halt, then walked backwards to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

“Howdy stranger,” I said.
“Oh hey.” He replied.
“How long you been here?”
“Oh, I quit (the bad place) shortly after you did.”

He went on to tell me Walmart paid him the same salary he made as a supervisor and he didn’t have to worry about making his incentives every month. Less stress, no longer responsible for the management of a large team of employees, a schedule that fits his personality better, and he makes the same amount of money.

Some people would look at what he did as a step backwards. It’s easy to make that assumption. From a supervisor with some degree of control and influence to throwing freight and stocking shelves at Walmart with no control or influence. But if I were honest, that night in Walmart is the first I’d seen him smiling in years. Abandoning misery in exchange for better mental health is never a step backwards, even if the peace and happiness is found inside Walmart’s evil empire.

This weekend, my wife had some abysmal interactions with call center employees. It was a (more than) 12 hour ordeal with our road side assistance company attempting to get our van towed to the tire shop after one of her tires blew out on I-90. One guy tried telling her our policy didn’t include towing (which it does), one dude sounded like he was so stoned he probably couldn’t read the script on his computer, and a few of them had accents so thick they couldn’t be understood. She was hung up on twice - once after asking for a supervisor. And she had to explain to at least six different people her vehicle was parked on the side of the freeway - all were confused because we couldn’t provide a specific street address.

At the end of the saga, my wife was in tears. “No one cares.” She said, “No one gives a damn that I have to get to work today or that I have kids, or that we had plans for things to do and that they could be ruining those plans. They don’t care. Nobody cares.”

She’s correct. They don’t care. It’s not their job. Even if it was their job to care, they don’t get paid enough to care. How do I know? Because I wasn’t paid enough to care either. Same for my former coworker who’s now found bliss stocking shelves at Walmart - he wasn’t paid enough to care.

This is what customer service looks like within the confines of unfettered capitalism. Capitalism doesn’t care about hurt feelings, it cares about money. Capitalism doesn’t care about consumers, it cares about shareholders. Capitalism doesn’t care about doing the right thing unless the right thing earns a profit.

At the end of the day, whether you’re a customer calling in for help or employee clocking off to go home… Call centers are a business and businesses exist to make money.

There are several ways that call centers can increase revenue.
• Leaner statistics. Shorter call handle times mean more calls are getting answered. More completed calls are generally better for the profit line. As a result, call center employees are incented to reduce the amount of time they spend on the phone with you; the more complex your issue the less interested they are in helping you. It is more fiscally responsible for call center employees to handle the next customer in line then it is to resolve their current customer’s reason for calling.
• Reduce overhead. Computers are expensive to fix and replace. Most call centers operate on equipment that would’ve been cutting edge a decade ago, using outdated software that can barely keep up with today’s technology, and equipment is constantly breaking. If you call anyone in customer service and they apologize because their computers are “updating” that means something is broken. None of this would be a challenge if IT departments were fully staffed. Unfortunately IT support is also an expense. Telecom, tier 1 and tier 2 support, desktop and software support, programming - call centers everywhere are intentionally short staffed in their information technology departments.
• Eliminate non-essential staff. Who is non-essential in call centers? Everyone who doesn’t take a phone call. Trainers, human resources, quality assurance, janitors, receptionists. These roles are pure expense to call centers and nothing they do makes the business money. These days, call centers operate with a skeleton crew everywhere except the call center floor.
• Remote hiring. One of the benefits of the Covid pandemic was the growth in work from home availability. Unfortunately, not everyone is good at working from home. Productivity is often lower for remote employees compared to those working on site. Supervision and accountability is also more difficult when employees are not working in the office.
• Skimp on education. It costs money to train people. Less time spent in new hire training means it’s less expense to hire new employees. Companies are interested in getting butts in seats faster even if that means employees are less prepared to handle calls, less knowledgeable, and more prone to making mistakes.

Take these considerations then add the stress of constant belittlement from both customers and managers, all for low wage compensation. Call centers don’t pay more than they have to. But they often pay enough to trap people. That’s the idea that you’re not qualified for a better paying job but if you did get a different job, you’d probably have to take a pay cut. Somehow, I got lucky and found a better job for better pay. My former colleague found similar luck at Walmart.

Sorry this tale didn’t include anything salacious. It was rude of me to tempt you with such possibilities. Maybe next time. Still there is a lesson to be learned, a moral of the story. If you’re looking for someone to care about your circumstances, call centers are the worst possible location to find that level of concern. I assure you - they most definitely do not care about you.

What It’s Like to Be Me: In the Beginning Pt 3, Trying My Best

Insecurity dominated my adolescent years. Those days were filled with fear and struggle and discovery. No matter how uncomfortable or out of place I felt, I couldn’t allow that pitiful feeling to control my life. At some point, I had to embrace the awkward.

Or at least I tried. Bullied and beat up, teased relentlessly, I tried my best to keep my head up. I did all I could to maintain my own sense of identity. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes I failed miserably. Either way, I learned and moved on. I grew up. And along the way, little bits of my personality solidified. Notes of who I was could be found in the music playing on my Walkman, blaring through my headphones as my volume control was always set to the highest level possible.

Smashing Pumpkins: “Muzzle”
While trying to figure out who I was, Billy Corgan’s opening lyrics to “Muzzle” spoke one of my greatest worries: “I fear that I am ordinary just like everyone.” The song also balances an odd mix of cynicism and optimism I’ve seen manifest in my own outlook on life. One moment he sings of the dismal admission that nothing lasts forever, “all things must surely have to end, and great loves will one day have to part.” Then he takes on the expert arrogance common to many teenagers, “I knew exactly where I was and I knew the meaning of it all.”

Blindside: “Superman”
Blindside’s debut album is one of my all-time favorite records. This song struck a chord in my soul. I recently posted a story about its enduring significance in my life. You can read it HERE.

Grammatrain: “Humanity”
Growing up as the target of bullying and ostracization, I longed to exorcise these demons of abuse. I heard that desire echoed in this Grammatrain song, “no more monsters to live in my head.” I hoped for a day I could sing along with confidence, “all my tears that used to drench me have faded into blue.” Call it jaded. Call it cynical. Or some combination of the two. My experiences robbed me of any confidence in the goodness of humanity.

Pearl Jam: “I Got Id”
Eddie Vedder’s collaboration with Neil Young resulted in this visceral ode to unrequited love. As I repeatedly endured one romantic rejection after another and another, this song resonated with me. “I got memories, I got shit,” yeah, I know how that feels. This song was a cathartic release that helped me feel at peace with my unsuccessful teenaged dating life.

Guardian: “Sweet Mystery”
A song looking back at younger days rather than living them, Jamie Rowe sings of the mystery of how friends from his younger days still remain: “But after everything's been said and done I'm glad you are my friend.” He also recalls how much his family’s love meant to him at an age when he didn’t understand it: “Little boy that my momma knew became a full grown man. I live my life like you taught me to. You know I try the best I can.” There are very few people from my school days who I still consider friends. And I know I was not an easy child to raise. I feel all the feels when I hear this song these days.

What It’s Like to Be Me: In the Beginning Pt 2, Insecurity

For most people, their teen years were awkward. Even the cool kids go through a bumbling gangly phases at some point between the ages of 12 and 18. In my life, that phase started a little younger than most and lasted a lot longer.

Insecurity dominated much of my adolescent years. I was bullied throughout junior high. I was the shortest of the boys in my church youth group. My friends were all taller, cooler, and wealthier than me. They lived in nicer houses and dressed in trendier clothes. I could never compare - a fact of which I was painfully aware. My self esteem suffered and I developed kinship with other geeks and outcasts like me. Through the years, I found solace in music that reassured me I wasn’t alone.

Goo Goo Dolls: “Naked”
There are songs that you adore from the first moment you hear it. This was that kind of song for me. John Rzeznik’s lyrics spoke to awkward loneliness. “No one hears me, never been, never felt, never thought I'd say a word.” Whoa. I knew that feeling. His second verse repeated that sense of alienation. “They don't need me, don't want me, don't hear a word I say.”

King’s X: “Sometime”
Being a teen is confusing. You’re going through biological and chemical changes. You get contradictory instruction from parents and teachers. Everyone has different expectations of you. You’re trying to create a sense of autonomy separate from your parents. You’re unsure of who you are and what you want. You emotions swing from one extreme to the other. “Sometime” reminds me what it was like to experience this constant state of flux. It’s a vulnerable song with no resolution as Doug Pinnick sings of divergent desires. Sometimes, he wants to give. Sometimes, he wants to take. To run. To stay. To live. To die.

Collective Soul: “Goodnight, Good Guy”
Despite being a nerdy kid and socially awkward, I still wanted people to like me. Even on my worst days, I aspired to be a decent human being. Above all else, I wanted to be a good guy. I wanted other people to look at me and say, “yeah, he’s a good dude.” It’s a noble ideal, but it’s exhausting. It takes a lot of energy to always appear to be good. And more effort to actually be good. You hear this sense of weariness in the song. “But days are longer as my heart gets weaker and I can only stay so strong. Well I'll just sit here like a wounded soul who's finding it difficult to just let go.”

Blue October: “Weaknesses”
My insecurity always seemed entwined with an acute (and sometimes painful) self-awareness. I knew exactly who I was and what I was capable of doing. The inverse was also true: I knew who I wasn’t and what I was incapable of doing. Those were my inadequacies, failures, and weaknesses. It’s this self-depreciative view of the ego behind Justin Furstenfeld’s lyrics, “My weaknesses - With their ugly faces on a day to day basis.”

Switchfoot: “Let That Be Enough”
Switchfoot has always held space for communicating my deepest hopes and fears in ways I could never express on my own – and in ways more beautiful than I would have ever invented. In “Let That Be Enough,” Jon Foreman described loneliness as being a “plane in the sunset with nowhere to land.” While the words he sang seemed to meet me where I was at that moment in my life, the second verse seemed to be prophetic. “It's my birthday tomorrow, no one here could know I was born this Thursday 22 years ago.” I was 19 when this song came out, and I was still living with my folks. The following summer, I moved to a different state with some friends. A year later, one friend moved back home and the other moved in with his girlfriend. By the time I got to my 22nd birthday, no one around me knew it was my day. And it happened to be on a Thursday.

What It’s Like to Be Me: In the Beginning Pt 1, The Things That I Could Be

‘In the Beginning’ is the first section of the soundtrack to my life. These songs are my beginning, either reminding me what it was like to be a kid or representing in some way my life from adolescence through young adulthood. Those years are weird and magical, uncomfortable and awkward, carefree and careless. For most kids, this is the time of their life when anything is possible and everything is new. These are the years you begin to identify who are as a person and what you want to be when you grow up.

When I thought about the things that I could be, my biggest dream was to become an architect. But by the time I graduated high school, I wanted to be a DJ with my own morning radio show. The dreams of youth are fickle and complicated. This first group of songs from my ‘What It’s Like to Be Me’ playlist look at those dreams I had as a kid, the things I hoped for and longed to become true.


Skee-Lo: "I Wish"
My dad used to joke about how all he ever wanted to be when he grew up was six foot tall. He never got his wish. Neither did I. However, I did receive a theme song in 1995 when Skee-Lo released his biggest hit "I Wish." If I was a pro-wrestler, this would have been my walk-in music. This song is a short dude’s anthem – we all know the chorus but his verses spoke to my soul: “Her boyfriend's tall and he plays ball so how am I gonna compete with that? 'Cause when it comes to playing basketball, I'm always last to be picked and in some cases never picked at all.” It’s like he knew me.

Steve Taylor: "Hero"
What kid doesn’t want to be a hero? I loved to read, from comic books and horror novels to the bible and history books, I was the kind of kid Stave sand about in this song. “In a storybook land I could dream what I read. When it went to my head I'd see. I want to be a hero.” Yet heroes aren’t perfect and I grew up in an era where our heroes kept killing themselves, Kurt Cobain, Bradley Nowell, Shannon Hoon. Taylor addressed this fallibility of heroes: “Growing older you'll find that illusions are brought and the idol you thought you'd be was just another zero.” It made me want to save our heroes.

Elvis Presley: "If I Can Dream"
I’m not a big Elvis Presley fan. His music was far before my time. But I love this song. Even as a kid, I could recognize something was off in this world. While I didn’t always know what that something was, I knew it could be better. This is the longing you hear in Elvis’ voice as he sings this song. “There must be lights burning brighter somewhere. Got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue. If I can dream of a better land where all my brothers walk hand in hand, tell me why can't my dream come true?” Elvis gave me a hope for a solution to this dream: “As long as a man has the strength to dream, he can redeem his soul and fly.”

Wideawake: "Misunderstood"
My brother went to school with a kid named Scott. They played basketball together and became friends. That's when I got to know him. After they graduated, Scott joined a band called Common Thread. I went to a lot of their concerts, even ran sound for them a few times. They eventually changed their name to Wideawake and put out a couple albums. One of their most popular songs sang of a common thread among teenagers – especially kids like me who didn’t always feel like they fit in. “I wish I could read your mind, be one of your kind. I missed you in my time, misunderstood. I wish I could somehow be all that you want from me.” I was a misunderstood kid. All I really wanted is what every other kid wanted: to belong.

Coldplay: "Fix You"
My brother and I grew up with two different dads. Technically, it was the same person, but Dad changed after a massive injury he sustained while I was in fifth grade. He was strong, sporty, and confident while my brother was in junior high. By the time I reached that age, his strength and confidence had vanished and his athletic ability was confined to being a fan. My brother grew up with a social butterfly; I grew up with a wallflower. I was 26 when this song came out but it transported me back to when I was still in school and every dream I ever wished on behalf of my father. “Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.” All I wanted was the impossible. I just wanted to fix my dad.

Where Did the Summer Go? (Summer Vibes)

It’s been a wonderful, terrible, and weird summer. After my last blog post, we went camping for the Fourth of July – it’s our annual summer getaway weekend. A minute, we’re doing back to school shopping and getting the kids ready for another year of teachers, bell schedules, and homework. It’s like I went to bed after the holiday and woke up halfway through August.

I didn’t sleep for a month and a half, yet it almost feels like it. These last few weeks have been a blur, nonstop activity and heartbreak and controlled chaos. Between my day job, farm work, and weekends doing rodeo with the kids, I’ve barely had a moment to slow down and just be.

We’ve also had a rough couple months. Grieving from recent deaths in the family, enduring professional rejection, and helping horses recover from injury while rearranging the budget to accommodate veterinary bills.

Between the flurry of loss and the frenetic pace of maintaining the farm and family, I’ve been in an odd funk. It’s a sensation similar to anxiety but not quite the same thing. I feel precariously balanced between hope and dread. It’s an emotion I can’t define and can barley explain. The closest word I can find to define my emotional state is melancholy, and even that seems underwhelming for the full spectrum of where my heart and mind lingers.

At the same time, I feel this vibe. Like I can’t be broken even when I am broken. Like everything is going to be OK even when it’s not OK. Like the sun still shines bright on the rainiest day.

Music has always provided therapeutic relief for me. The lyrics and melodies and rhythms giving a voice to emotions I'm inadequately prepared to speak for myself. For this season of my life, I’ve compiled a soundtrack to carry me through. These songs are my summer vibe.

123456 by Fitz and The Tantrums


Burn the House Down by AJR


Here With Me by Marshmello and CHVRCHES


Tongues by Joywave and KOPPS


Sticks and Stones by Kings Kaleidoscope


These songs are eager. Determined. Gleeful. Energetic. All traits I don’t possess myself. Or at least without considerable effort. They also radiate an attitude I’m pursuing. A relentless and defiant optimism against discouraging odds. An outlook that breathes deep during moments of failure, tragedy, and misfortune. A drive to persevere when all conventional logic says quit. A head held high even when burdened by an unbearable weight.

Maybe it’s a middle finger to the world. Maybe it’s a belief in love even after being burned by love lost. Maybe it’s the whimsical blend of EDM, pop, and indie/alternative that inspires a wistful smile in the depths of my soul. Whatever it is, these songs lift my spirits whether I’m in tears of joy or tears of grief. You’ll have to excuse me if I indulge when I hear them. If these tunes come on the radio or show up in a Spotify playlist, I’m cranking up the volume and singing along.

A Presidential Goat

This is Trumpet. He’s a goat. And he has some fantastic hair.

A few days ago, while doing barn chores, Annie had a revelation about Trumpet’s hair: it’s a combover. His hair has a certain presidential quality to it. Maybe not presidential in a traditional sense, more like it reminds us a little of the man currently serving as president. Then we got thinking and the more we realized our goat and our president have a lot in common. And it’s more than just the floppy coif on the tops of their head. Consider the following.

They can’t stay faithful. Donald Trump initially gained fame and notoriety through tabloid headlines highlighting his marriages, mistresses, divorces, and remarriages. He has five different kids with three different women. He’s cheated on every woman who married him. Trumpet is just as much of a philanderer. A couple weeks ago, Viola gave birth to twins. Trumpet is their dad. Meanwhile, he also got Didgeridoo pregnant and she’ll be going into labor soon. If you think two baby mamas are enough, you’d be wrong because he’s also been getting frisky with two of our other lady goats: Ukelele and Kazoo. We’re going to have a farm full of goats and he’ll the daddy of all of those kids.

Trump has a weird and creepy obsession with his daughter. I’ve lost count of how many cringe inducing and inappropriate things he has said about Ivanka. Like when Trump said he’d date her if she wasn’t his daughter. Or when he asked a writer if it was wrong to be more attracted to your daughter than your wife. Or when he gave Howard Stern permission to call her “a piece of ass.” Or when he awkwardly groped her hips at the RNC convention. Trumpet also has an incestuous fascination with his kin. Let’s just say we try to keep him separated from his sister.

For Trump and Trumpet, rules don’t matter because they do whatever they desire. You want to try and contain Donald Trump? Good luck. I’m guessing his unpredictability and subversion has contributed to the unusually high turnover in the Trump administration. Likewise, Trumpet shows little interest in what you want from or expect of him. He goes where he wants. If you try to contain him, he will jump over gates and fences to do what he should not be doing.

We all know that President Trump is a raging narcissist. His sociopathic behavior is mirrored in Trumpet the goat. As far as Trumpet is concerned, everything that happens around our farm is about him. When we go out to the barn, he jumps to greet us as if we only made the trek to see him. Then he circles around us until we acknowledge him. Should any smaller creatures stand between him and his destination, he will trample straight over the top of them. If Heartsong Meadow had a daily newspaper, he would demand constant front page mentions. He poses for our trail camera. He smiles when we catch him acting naughty. And don’t ever call Trumpet a goat – he might get confused and think you’re calling him the greatest of all time.

When we feed the chickens, Trumpet thinks we’re feeding him. When we feed the horses, Trumpet thinks we’re feeding him. It doesn’t matter what animal is being fed. Trumpet assumes all food is for him. He loves to eat, much like President Trump. What would Trump be without a bucket of KFC, his extra scoop of ice cream, or a taco bowl on Cinco de Mayo? Trump and Trumpet share an insatiable appetite. Neither of them, man or goat possess the will power to resist a Big Mac.

They have so much in common: megalomaniacs, obnoxious, loud, and constantly in search of a meal. At least in the goat’s case, the hair is real.

a word

For the last five years, I’ve selected a word to be my theme for the years. It was either an addition to or a replacement for New Year’s resolutions, because (if we’re all serious) resolutions rarely last. Instead, a thematic word serving as a filter for all you say, think, and do throughout the year is practical, motivating, and achievable.

However, I have a dilemma. I don’t have a word for 2019. At least, not yet. It’s been on my mind for the past few weeks and nothing seems to fit. My mind is an empty canvas. Or a blank page. All I need is a word. A good one. The right one. (note: this is where my fiancée would call me a perfectionist.)

2014 was the first time I selected a word for the year. My word was INTENTIONAL. I wanted to do everything on purpose, to be intentional in all my actions. I never wanted to do anything on accident or because it was easy or convenient.

In 2015, I chose the word HEALING. At the time, I was in desperate need of some healing. Newly divorced, struggling with my physical and emotional health. Trying to redefine my identity and learning how to parent on my own. I spent the year looking for healing and I found it in abundance.

My word for 2016 was BETTER. Long time readers might remember a post I wrote about it. I just wanted to be better. A better man, a better dad, a better friend. And, should I ever fall in love again, I wanted to be a better partner. I also wanted a better life. This was the year I met Annie, so I’d say my hopes for the year came true.

2017’s word was a repeat. I kept BETTER, using it as my theme for the second consecutive year.

Last year, my word was blend. I knew that Annie and I would be intentionally blending our families in 2018. I proposed in January and she said yes. We spent the year on farm projects and home remodeling, creating space for our kids and animals. New family traditions have been formed and we have stayed up many nights dreaming and planning for our future together.

Now, 2019 has arrived and I am in need of a new word. What word will guide me through next December 31? What will be my theme? It’s gonna be … I don’t know. I got nothing. For the next couple weeks, I’m going to be scouring the internet, searching for a word, something meaningful to be my cognitive north star. If you have any worthy ideas, let me know.

The names that almost were

This is Jemma. She's the newest resident at Heartsong Meadow. And she is one of the reasons I've been a bit busy this past month. That's because she is my horse.

She's an older quarter horse, mellow, just my speed. However, horse ownership includes some extra responsibilities beyond the typical feeding and grooming. I have to spend time working her and bonding with her. As of this last weekend, I also started riding lessons; if we're honest, she's better trained than I am.

When we brought her home, she needed a new name. Blinded by Rainbow just wasn't gonna work around here. Her name needed to be strong and (because it's me) completely geeky. In one of my private groups, several guys suggested the name Epona for reasons.

There are four other names we almost gave her. Nebula - an interstellar dust cloud and the adopted sister of Gamora in Guardians of the Galaxy. Gallifrey - The Doctor's home planet in Doctor Who. Valkyrie - the keepers of life and death in battle from Norse mythology and one of the female warriors in Marvel's Thor comics. Aurora - the technical name for the northern lights and a member of Alpha Flight in Marvel comics. None of these names felt right though.

We eventually decided on Jemma, named after Dr Jemma Simmons from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. - the genius biochemist and a researcher for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s science division. Jemma is one of the smartest characters in the TV show and now Jemma is one of the smartest animals on our farm. Which is good, because I need a brilliant horse. According to our trainer, I ride like a sack of potatoes.

Terminating Apartment Life

Tomorrow is the last day in my apartment lease. For the first time since I moved there in September of 2013, I am not renewing. It was a great place to live when I moved in, but a change of ownership a few years back changed things for the worse. This move is the beginning of a new chapter in my life, and it's also a farewell to a residence I am relieved to leave behind. In honor of my final day at Treetop Apartments, here are three things I will not miss about living there, plus two things I will.

I won't miss constant rent increases. With the original owners, my rent didn't change the first time I renewed my lease. Then the new owners came n and rent has increased every renewal since then. The amount I paid with my last rent check is nearly $200 dollars more than what I paid four and a half years ago. When I first moved there, two car garages were included with the lease a their two-bedroom apartments, but under the new owners garages cost extra on top of the lease of a two bedroom unit. Water, sewer, and garbage was originally included in the rent, but those services became an additional charge added to the rent after the new owners took over. And about a year ago, all residents were given notice we were required to carry renter’s insurance effective immediately - increasing the cost to live there and changing the terms of the lease with short notice.

I won't miss parking spaces hard to find. When you pull into the parking lot, there are signs posted warning parking is for residents only. Those signs used to mean something. The original owners had a contract with a local ma & pa towing company. The husband and wife team drove through the lot at random intervals throughout the day and night. They inspected all cars parked in the apartment lots for a parking pass. If they found a car without a pass, they'd tow it. When I moved in, a coworker told me he once had his car towed from that lot after he'd been parked there for less than five minutes. Things changed with the new owners. They terminated the contract with the small towing operation and signed a new contract with a bigger company. The new towers only come to take a vehicle if the property owners request it. Surprise, they never make such requests. The result is a parking lot that is always full and mostly filled with cars lacking a parking pass.

I won't miss dog poop everywhere. There are signs posted advising residents to pick up after their pets. But my neighbors are lazy. Often, there are doggy landmines scattered in every greenspace at the complex and squat-dropped into the grass between the side walk and street. I've witnessed the phenomenon myself, stood on my balcony and watched a neighbor bring out his German Shepherd. It assumed position in the grass at the bottom of the steps to my apartment, dropped its effluence, and the pair walked back to their building. The human never returned to collect his dog's waste. The first summer we lived there, I discovered (in an ironic twist) a pile of poo directly in front of one of the "no pooping" signs. This might seem like an odd complaint considering my new residence. We have two dogs, two cats, five horses, four goats, a rabbit, and a large mixed flock of chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys at the farm. When we do barn chores, it's nearly impossible to not step in it. Everybody poops, including the animals. But there's a difference. If your dog poops in your yard, it's not a big deal. But if your neighbor's dog poops in your yard, you raise a ruckus. I also expect to step in scat when walking through the horse pasture and goat pen. I don't expect it when walking to the manager's office or the mailbox. Some people have no respect and I'm glad they're not my problem any more.

I will miss not having to do yard work. This is by far the greatest perk of apartment life. They employ a maintenance staff to mow the lawn and trim the trees. Or they hire a landscaping company to do it all. As a person who loathes yard work, I was grateful to never worry about the grass growing too tall or weeds that need pulled. It was always someone else's circus, someone else's monkeys. With this move, lawn care is my responsibility once again. The first time we mowed this spring, it took three days. My goal this summer is to teach the kids to do it. Then all I'll have to do is supervise.

Finally, I will miss the sounds of baseball. The sliding glass door to the balcony of my apartment faced Ramsey Park. Walk out the front door, down the stairs, across the driveway, then through a gate in the chain link fence and you'll find yourself on the Prairie Trail next to the Ramsey Ballfields. Staring every spring and lasting late into the fall, evenings became game time with field lights lit up well past sunset. Baseball and softball games frequently lasted until 10pm or later. Even though I am not a huge baseball fan, I still find the sounds of the sport comforting. It reminds me of my childhood listening to Dave Niehaus on KJR and attending Mariners games at the Kingdome. The crack of the bat, crowds cheering, occasional "steeerike!" shout from an umpire, snippets of stadium anthems over the loudspeakers. It's the perfect ambient noise, the soundtrack to a relaxing summer night. I long ago lost count of how many times those sounds lulled me to slumber over the last four and a half years. Sure, I can and will still attend Spokane Indians games, JJ still has a few years left in little league, and I hope to see the M's a few more times at Safeco Field. Yet nothing will replace hearing it played live, right outside the bedroom window, night after night.

As for the farm life, we’re all excited. Christian told me he had always dreamed of living in the country. Some dreams do come true. And the sunsets here are hard to beat.

Questioning a Questionable Policy

Last week, Roger Goodell released a statement detailing an NFL rule change prohibiting protests during the National Anthem. This specifically targets predominantly black players who have been kneeling during the Anthem during the 2016 and 2017 seasons - athletes who are trying to use their platform to bring attention to police violence against the African American community.

Even my team protested, image courtesy of The Christian Science Monitor.

Regardless of how you feel about these protests, even if you disagree with them, you must admit the players won. They wanted to bring attention to this issue and it's become a hot-button topic. With so many pundits and politicians and football fans all over the world talking about it, players like Colin Kaepernick brought their concerns to the forefront. Their mission is incomplete, but the conversations they sparked are victories.

Until now. Per the NFL’s new rules, these protests will be penalized. Goodell released a statement explaining these changes and reading it left me with several questions. And I'm confused. Can someone please explain?

1. The statement opened with a remark that the league is committed to work with the players to strengthen communities and advance social justice. How does threatening players translate into working with them? Furthermore, how does banning protests advance social justice issues? And why are civil rights protests more punitively disciplined than troubles like rape, domestic violence, and child abuse? Yes, I realize the league has rules determining punishment for players who beat their kids, wives, and girlfriends, but the adherence to these rules have been inconsistent if applied at all. Will the application of the protest rule be as lenient as the guidelines for players arrested for violent crimes? If the NFL really wanted to advance social justice, shouldn’t they work harder to protect women and children?

2. The rule requiring players and team personnel to be on the field has been removed allowing those who don't want to stand during the anthem to be somewhere else. They can "stay in the locker room or in a similar location off the field" until the National Anthem is over. How vague. How do you define a similar location off the field? Will this turn into a boundary pushing game where protesting players work their way down the entrance tunnel to see how close they can get to the field without being on the field?

3. The official statement mentions fines for the club if any of its staff does not stand for the Anthem while on the field and "appropriate discipline" for league personnel who do the same. Again, this is incredibly vague. What are the fines? What does appropriate discipline include? Why fine the club instead of the player? Isn't that manipulative? Other reports suggested teams would be imposed a yard penalty for protesting players. When would that penalty be applied? During the first possession? At the discretion of the opposing team? What if both teams have players protesting? Do those penalties cancel each other out? Or do both teams take a hit? Does the number of yards a team loses depend on how many players protest? And is the fine a flat rate? Are clubs fined the same amount if a player protests as they would if a coach protests? Is there a bigger fine for repeat offenders? Will they publicize the appropriate discipline against league personnel who chose to protest?

4. I'm happy that Goodell addressed the false narrative that protesting players were unpatriotic. To support the claim that protesters are patriotic, he mandates a patriotic demonstration. How does that make sense? Is forced patriotism really patriotism?

5. The NFL has consistently been losing TV ratings. Fewer and fewer fans are watching games, and with this new rule in place they stand to lose even more viewers. Are they ready for the lost revenue? Are they ready for the backlash? Are they ready for the players who (reportedly) will be protesting by refusing to play? Did they really think this through? Are they prepared for the unintended consequences?

The Super Bowl that Was

As we delve deeper into 2018, it is obvious we are stuck with a President Donald Trump. However, we live in a world where the team who lost the Super Bowl is owned by Trump's friend Robert Kraft, coached by Trump's friend Bill Belichick, and led by Trump's quarterback friend Tom Brady.

Confession: I used to be a minor Patriots fan. Back when they were perennial underdogs yet to win a Super Bowl, I occasionally cheered for them. Since their first championship win in 2002, my opinion of them has degraded thanks to their cheating scandals, Belichick's permanently grumpy face, Brady's smug arrogance, and their many connections to Trump.

Sunday, the dogs snuggled up for a nap while I watched the game. The Philadelphia Eagles are NFL champs and their city has been burnt down to rubble in celebratory(?) riots. Eagles-fan-for-a-day is now over and we can all go back to supporting our regular favorite teams in anticipation for next fall. Before we return to our legitimate fandoms, I have some favorite Super Bowl LII moments to share.

Of the actual sport with real athletes doing things on a field, here are my top five highlights.
5. The Patriots failed trick play. Tom Brady errors as a receiver and the ball was over-thrown. It's schadenfreude seeing Brady fail in a play that his team perfected.
4. Gronkowski's touchdown celebration. It's nice to know that I'm not the only white dude who shouldn't be allowed to dance.
3. The catch that was a touchdown that was fumbled then caught again and was ruled a touchdown. It could have been called incomplete, but the call was upheld and I might have screamed loud enough to scare both sleeping dogs.
2. The Eagles trick play. Foles succeeded in the same play Brady missed earlier in the game. The Eagles beat New England at their own game by out Patriotting the Patriots.
1. Brady's fumble. After the touchdown that almost wasn't, the Patriots needed a miracle. Instead, they got Tom Brady. The ball was stripped from his hand, cementing the Eagles’ victory.

Also worth noting: JJ Watt's award. I've got a tremendous respect for Watt and his actions following last year's hurricanes. The man placed the value of human life above his career and I can't think of anyone more deserving of the Walter Payton Man of the Year award.

For those who only watch the Super Bowl for the commercials, here are my five ish favorites.
Honorable mention: Amazon's Alexa lost her voice. Celebrities fill in as a replacement for the voice of Alexa; none made me laugh as much as Rebel Wilson setting the mood.
5. Dodge Ram's Vikings. This ad would have been ranked higher on my list if it wasn't for their other Super Bowl ad. Using Martin Luther King Jr's voice to sell trucks was so offensive it soured this truly great commercial featuring headbanging Vikings in a Dodge Ram driving to the Minneapolis while listening to Queen's We Will Rock You.
4. Wendy's slams McDonalds. McDonalds flash freezes their beef to "seal in fresh flavor." Unlike Wendy's who use never frozen beef. Wendy's reminded us the iceberg that sank the titanic was also frozen.
3. Every commercial is a Tide ad. David Harbour (AKA Chief Hopper in Stranger Things) spoofs "typical" Super Bowl ads, including those for cars, beer, jewelry, soda, shaving cream/razors, and smart home systems to demonstrate how every advertisement is a Tide ad because the clothes worn in every commercial is super clean.
2. NFL’s Dirty Dancing. Eli Manning and Odell Beckham Jr danced together like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. The two football stars recreated the Dirty Dancing routine set to Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes duet (I've Had) The Time of My Life.
1. Doritos and Dew Duel. Doritos has a new spicy flavor of chip and Mountain Dew has a new cool refreshing flavor of soda. First, Peter Dinklage faux-rapped to Busta Rhyme’s verse from Look At Me Now to promote Doritos Blaze, facing off against Morgan Freeman who lip-sang lyrics from Missy Elliot’s Get Ur Freak On for Mountain Dew Ice.

Hollywood also debuted new movie trailers and these are the films I can't wait to see.
5. (tie) Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom & Mission: Impossible - Fallout. I can't tell which of these two are of greater worth. Both are franchise films from franchises I enjoy. I was underwhelmed by the last entry in both series. Both have colons in their title. Both have potential to be awesome, or completely horrible. I can't make up my mind, so I'll list both.
4. Skyscraper. I have no idea what this movie is about. All I know is an aging Rock wearing a prosthetic leg will be doing parkour and leaping from heights that would kill a normal mortal. Despite limited information and a guaranteed need for a willing suspension of disbelief, I'm in.
3. The Cloverfield Paradox. This was a surprise trailer for a movie to be released as soon as the game was over. I have not yet had time to watch it and the reviews from critics who did have time suggest that I shouldn't make the time. However, the first Cloverfield movie also got poor critical reviews and it's on my lists of favorite monster movies and favorite found footage movies. I will log into Netflix this week and see it against professional advice.
2. Solo. Until now, I have had the lowest of low expectations for this movie. As a prequel, I know the main characters will survive with all limbs attached so they can appear in the original movies. The stakes are low. In these situations, the sense of danger is never high enough to worry a character's safety. But the Super Bowl teaser changed my mind and now I can't wait for the month of May.
1. Avengers: Infinity War. This is the other reason May is going to be a good month.

Other than Papa John's

Once upon a time, I was a big fan of Papa John's. Then they closed all of their Inland Northwest locations. I was disappointed because I craved their garlic butter dipping sauce set inside each box of pizza. Confession: when we ordered dinner from Papa John's, I snagged the garlic butter cup before anyone else could get to it and refused to share.

They were gone though. And I moved on. There are plenty of other pizza restaurants in Coeur d'Alene. Seriously. We have more pizza joints than coffee shops. Still, the loss was reinforced during football season as Papa John's ads played during the commercial break of every Seahawks game, just rubbing garlic butter in the wound. Taunting me with the thing I cannot have.

Imagine my joy when they returned. A new store opened in Hayden. They're back. Then I had some. Unfortunately, the only item in my order that had any appeasing flavor was the garlic butter dipping sauce. The rest of it tasted like a junior high home economics experiment cooked by a bunch of football players forced to take the class against their will. So much for better ingredients.

This last week, John Schnatter, the founder and CEO of Papa John's, made a bold statement about his struggling business, feeble sales, and plummeting stock prices. He blamed the NFL. On a conference call with investors, Schnatter said, "Leadership starts at the top, and this is an example of poor leadership. The NFL has hurt Papa John's shareholders."

The NFL is not the cause of Papa John's decline. In the same period of time Papa John's profits have been sinking, Dominoes and Pizza Hut have both seen increase in sales and stock prices. When I meet friends for pizza, more often than not, we go to the Hut. So what is really hurting Papa John's?

I'll agree with Schnatter, leadership does start at the top, which is why his blame is misplaced. Whatever happened to personal responsibility? Perhaps Schnatter's leadership is to blame for Papa John's slump. Perhaps Papa John's dire financial situation is the fault of Papa's business practices. I won't be eating their food any more.

I love pizza, perhaps a bit too much. When there's a craving, well ... There are plenty of other pizza restaurants in Coeur d'Alene.

In a world where every other pizza chain is cheaper and tastes better than Papa John's, I'm not worried about a lack of pizza options. In fact, there are easily a dozen other options in my home town that I prefer above Papa John's. Here are five.

1. MOD Pizza: MOD is like the Subway of pizzerias. Only, better than Subway. Pick your size, sauce, toppings, and they throw it in a wood fire oven to cook while you get your drinks. It's quick, affordable, and delicious. This is my favorite place to get pizza in Cd'A.

2. Tomato Street: Sure, they do more than pizza, but when it comes to pizzas and calzones, Tomato Street gives you the most bang for your buck. Average prices with abundantly generous serving sizes. Leftovers will be likely. And you can color on their tablecloths.

3. Fire Artisan Pizza: This and the neighboring restaurant, Crafted, are two of the trendiest (and most hipster) spots in town, and their prices reflect it. Fire's pizzas are more expensive than Papa John's but their flavor is far superior. They make pizzas you won't find anywhere else. My favorite is the Camino - chicken, bacon, and red onions on chipotle BBQ sauce with fresh cilantro and habenero sea salt. Simply divine.

4. Northwest Pizza Company: Locally owned with prices similar to Papa John's, NW Pizza has great variety, superb ingredients, and a friendly staff. They also have an old school pizza diner feel that reminds me of eating at Godfathers or Alfy's as a kid.

5. Little Caesars: Let's be honest. This is not good pizza, this is cheap pizza. This is pizza on a budget. It's hot, fresh, and ready when you show up and you don't need to call ahead. Their flavor is similar to Papa John's but for one third the price. However, their crazy bread deserves some bragging rights. I'd take their bread sticks any day over most other pizza chains. Despite having pizza crusts that taste like cardboard, Little Caesars can't be beat when you're in a hurry or short on funds.

It doesn't end there. The list of places I'd rather get a pizza from before I spend any money on Papa John's is a long one. Papa Murphy's, Capone's Pub and Grill, Bullman's Wood Fired Pizza, Olive Garden. Heck, I'd take MacKenzie River Pizza and I haven't eaten there since my 30th birthday. Even frozen pizza from the grocery store is preferable above Papa John's.

Now I'm hungry. Who's up for pizza?

Status Check: Tidbits

You might see a bit of a slow down in the number of my blog posts over the next couple months. For a multitude of reasons.

1. It's summer and the kids are keeping me busy. They're spending most of their time at a day camp while I'm at the office. After I pick them up, the activity continues. JJ is playing baseball again this summer. I'm spending some quality time with each of them. And I am still trying to make Saturdays our adventure day. Most nights, by the time we get home, we cook dinner and start bed time routines.

2. I'm busy trying to get school done. It is more work than I anticipated, but it is the good kind of work. One recent class required the weekly assignments to be written as blog entries which was easy for me to figure out since that's what I do. In case you missed them, you can find those posts here, here, here, here, and here.

3. I've also written a couple articles for the parenting site They Call Me Dad. My second contribution was posted today and you should go read it. The first was published in April; you should read it too.

4. Speaking of writing, I am hustling to complete the first draft of my book. There is a lot of research going on and I want to have something that I can begin to share by the end of the year. In order for that to happen, I have to work my butt off. I'm roughly 20% through the project and I am more excited about it than anything I've ever written.

My temporary work-space. Note: Wendy's is not paying me to promote them, but I wouldn't object if they did.

5. Not everything in my life is about kids and work. I have been spending a lot of time with a wonderful woman and on Sunday we will be celebrating a year together. Thankfully, she supports my ambitions and encourages me to write, which makes everything else I talked about in this post so much easier.

That should summarize the state of life at The Faithful Geek. A five-for-Friday post on a Monday. As I start my 13th year of blogging, I am so grateful for those of you who regularly read along, for those of you who geek out with me, and for the few of you who periodically disagree with what I have to say. You have made it possible for me to enjoy something that I never imagined doing: to call myself a writer.

Thank you for sticking around. When my fingertips are not busy plucking out words and sentences and paragraphs for school, guest posts, or my work in progress, you will continue to find my thoughts about what it is like to be a Christian, a dad, and a nerd in this bizarre and beautiful world. Until then, do me a favor and click on an ad or two. It will make my oldest son happy.

Ugly Americans

There was an incident in Florida. Not the shooting at Pulse or the gator at Disney World. It should have been innocuous: a couple of dudes from Brazil filming tricks on self-balancing scooters known as hoverboards. Not a big deal, no cause for concern. Probably trying to be the next YouTube stars - inspired by people like Johnny Knoxville and Bam Margera.

What elevated their video from stupid tricks to an incident was the actions of a third party. An obese white woman in an SUV pulled to a stop in the middle of the road (blocking traffic) to berate the two boys in an onslaught of racist and homophobic rants. She assumed they were of Arab decent and were studying the flight patterns from a nearby airport to plot the next big terrorist attack. The worst part of her vulgar and belligerent verbal assault is that she lauded herself as someone who loved Jesus while these two boys were condemned to hell.

One of the two wannabe YouTubers filmed the exchange from his phone. A friend of mine shared his video on Facebook and I watched in shocked fascination like seeing a train wreck happen in slow motion. I couldn't help but think this woman represented everything that is wrong with America. Angry. Hateful. Xenophobic. Jingoistic. Arrogant. Ham-fisted. Obnoxious. Filled with blunderbuss. Generally unhealthy. Ignorant and oblivious. Granted, I know people like this are not symbolic of all Americans. I know they are a noisy and horrific minority emboldened by the flagrant violations of civility displayed by those who want to lead our nation. Yet they are the stereotype. They are the Ugly Americans our foreign friends think of when asked to describe American tourists.

Even worse, if you ask your atheist friends to describe how they view the average Christian, this woman is what they describe. Hostile, judgmental, hypocritical, paranoid, fearful, unintelligent, and rude. It grieves me to see displays like this - when people who claim to live under the banner of Jesus act in ways contrary to fundamental Christian doctrine. People like this Floridian woman fit the description of what Brennan Manning called the greatest cause of atheism:

When Jesus described the greatest commandment, He told us to love God with every element of our being. He then quoted Levitical law to describe the second greatest command: love your neighbor as you love yourself. I thought of those verses of scripture while watching the confrontation between this woman and the two guys from Brazil. Is this the kind of love that Jesus talked about? It can't be. Does this woman know who is her neighbor? Is she really loving them the way she loves herself? If so, she is abnormally self-loathing. Even if the worst of what she assumed was true, was she abiding by what Jesus instructed in the gospel of Luke? “Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who are cruel to you.” How could she? There was nothing loving or good or prayerful about her stream of insults, profanities, and derogatory comments. If what the apostle John wrote about love is true – “whoever loves has been born of God and knows God and anyone who does not love does not know God,” then I find it unbelievable that this woman knows the God she claimed to love.

There was a part of me that wanted to share the video. I thought 'We should make her famous for all of the wrong reasons. Turn her into a sensation like the Chewbacca mom, but in reverse. She should be shamed and humiliated.' But I abstained. Here is why.

1. It was horrifically disgusting. I am not typically offended by foul language. One of the songs on the soundtrack to my life is Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons, a song with a chorus that sings "It was not your fault but mine, I really F@#%ed it up this time." One of my all-time favorite movies is Kevin Smith's Clerks - they drop several dozen f-bombs in that script and I laugh. I hear vulgarities throughout the day almost every day and usually shrug it off. Even with my high threshold for what it takes to offend me, this woman exceeded it with gusto and kept going. The depths of her crudity was astounding - in casual obscenities, in racial and homophobic slurs, in her graphic depiction of sexual acts, in her relentless attempt to paint these two boys as terrorists and pedophiles. I know that many of my friends and family have more delicate tolerance for unwholesome talk than me; if I was offended by the language in the video, I know several who would be greatly appalled.

2. The altercation ended poorly. The Brazilian boys didn’t invite their attacker's verbal barrage. They didn't deserve it. I would expect them to respond defensively; that is the normal fight or flight response humanity has hardwired into our brains. When threatened, we either freeze or retaliate. These two boys fought back but they did not do so gracefully. In some ways, their response was just as ugly as the woman who started it. Instead of deescalating the situation, they riled the woman up even more. While I can't fault them, I don't applaud their actions either.

3. In light of the hate crime and terrorist attack in Orlando, the LGBT community is already fearful of people like this woman. They are hurt. They don't feel safe. They are scared. I've chatted with a few of my gay friends over the past couple weeks and they all have expressed similar emotions. The shooting in Orlando was terrifying, but many of the reactions from straight conservatives have been just as hurtful. Reposting a video where someone demonstrates so much vile hatred for my gay friends would only add insults to the injury they've already endured. I value their friendships too much to subject them to more contempt.

4. Would sharing the video make me any better than her? If I believe that the two Brazilians were what Jesus would say were her neighbors, then wouldn't she be my neighbor? If she failed to demonstrate love to her neighbors, then I would also fail to show love by sharing a video with the intent to shame and humiliate. If I am to live the way I believe God commands me, then I must show love to people I don't like, I must love people that offend me. Even if they are complete strangers. Honestly, I don't always get it right. Sometimes, I should show love and fail to do it.

5. There is enough anger and hate in our world. I really don’t want to add to the noise. If I am going to climb up on a soap box, I would rather shout about grace and reconciliation than to point at someone and say "Look at this fool." Instead I cling to the words of Martin Luther King Jr, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." When I fail to live up to the standard I proclaim, it is time I admit it like I am now and aim to do better the next time.

Nervous Energy

Do you know the energetic nervousness you feel when you are about to take a step into something unknown, thrilling, and potentially fabulous? Not quite anxious but you are still nearly paralyzed with anticipation. You feel as if the air you breathe is filled with danger yet it makes you powerful like you could conquer the world. You posses the intimidating knowledge that the next moment of your life will change everything and all you have to do is move. It is an emotion of trepidation tempered with awe.

I am familiar with those butterflies fluttering around my belly, forcing their way into my chest with the intention to make my heart stop. There were days in my life when I could sense every muscle in my body taut and ready to react as soon as my brain gave the command. Good memories.

Like the night of a final performance at the Everett Performing Arts Center. I was dressed in costume and makeup was applied. I huddled behind the curtain waiting for my turn to walk out on to stage to follow the choreography and deliver my scripted line of dialog. It was only a bit part but still a fun experience. Closing night was even more nauseating than opening night because it was a sold out audience and I knew most of my friends and family were in attendance.

Or the day my buddies took me cliff diving. Clothes left behind at the car, we walked barefoot to the river wearing nothing but our swim trunks. Steve and Nate were the first into the water. I found myself alone at the edge of the rocks looking 20 feet down into a section of river where the current was slower and the water was deeper than other parts both upstream and downstream. A long breath, a small leap, and a descent that lasted no more than two seconds but felt like eternity.

There was the snowy morning I dressed up in a rented tux and stood in a hall outside the sanctuary, awaiting the moment to stand before everyone I knew to say "I do" to the girl with whom I had fallen in love.

And the time I spent in a small office with the people who would decide if I was qualified to accept a promotion that would have doubled my income. I did my best to answer their questions and paint myself as the ideal candidate. Not to mention the following days not knowing new whether I would be offered the position or if they chose to go with someone else.

Again recently. A first draft, re-write, proofreading, and editing. Save it, title it, attach it to an email. Those few seconds with my mouse cursor hovered over the send button to submit my first freelancing opportunity.

These are little glimmers of reality that shape who we were, who we are, and who we will become.

You know these feelings. Of stage dives and mosh pits. Of first dates and first kisses. Of waves crashing into the beach's shore. Of roasting marshmallows over a campfire and watching a meteor shower. Of singing songs with a bunch of friends and an acoustic guitar. Of merging onto the freeway at the beginning of a road trip. Of the roar from a waterfall and the soft chirping of crickets. Of city lights and sunsets. Of trying a new restaurant that quickly becomes your favorite place to eat. Of dancing in the rain. Of taking a stand for justice. Of checking an item off your bucket list.

That sensation is back but I cannot explain why. It is like I am dancing on a live wire. I have had that feeling gripping my nerves all day today, as if I am about to do something bold and reckless and amazing. Problem is, I do not know what that thing is.

But the vibe is there. Pure unbridled excitement on the verge of ... of ... well?

I have felt like that all day and the reason is beyond what I am able to explain. Yet I wouldn't trade for anything. This. The butterflies, the giddiness, the awkward wondering of what is about to happen. This reminds me that I am alive.

Indoctrination

An extended family member once criticized my kids watching Veggie Tales videos. His barbed words had nothing to do with the quality of animation or storytelling, the cheesy jokes or subjects parodied. His complaint was solely of religion. "It's pure indoctrination," he said, "I would never subject my kids to that." I have heard this many times before as objections to Christianity and organized religion in general. Parents don't want their kids involved with church for fear their kids will be brainwashed.

Growing up in a religious home that attended church multiple times a week in an area that was predominantly non-churched, I heard all sorts of reasons why people don't believe in God in any form. Due to my background, it was easy to get trapped in the bubble maintaining a circle of friends who shared my structure of belief. However, as I aged, that isolation became more and more impractical. Life experiences altered my points of view. Study of Biblical translation, ancient history, and repeated scriptural reading changed my perspectives. Opinions and beliefs diverged and matured.

I was once taught that every objection to Christianity had a perfect rebuttal; now I have come to understand even rebuttals have rebuttals. I have learned through trial and error (and mostly error) that arguing over religion doesn't change hearts or minds. Today, when I hear someone explain why they reject religion, I get it. They have a point. I might not agree with them, but I understand where they're coming from.

The only objection I cannot fathom is the charge of indoctrination. "I don't want to brainwash my kids into my belief structure." This idea is ridiculous. Here is why.

1. You all ready are indoctrinating your kids. Kids learn from their parents. How you raise your kids is (without intentional effort to do otherwise) a matter of behavior learned from your parents. When your kids grow up and have their own kids, their parenting strategy will be modeled after what they learned from you. This is why kids from dysfunctional families so frequently repeat cycles of abuse, addiction, and alcoholism.

Kids also pick up the beliefs and attitudes of their parents. No one is born a racist; it is an attitude they inherit from their parents' behavior. No one is born a Republican or a Democrat, children tend to mirror their parents political beliefs during their formative years. Parents will share their values in education, science, art, and business. Kids will also adopt their parent's religious persuasion - even the absence of formal religious practice. Everyone believes in something whether it is a god, gods, or no god.

2. Outside of religion and core beliefs or values, you are still indoctrinating your kids. Sport fans raise sport fans. Geeky parents raise geeky kids. Bookworms raise readers. Health nuts raise kids who think sugary foods taste weird. There are exceptions to this rule; major life-changing events affect how children react to parental interests. Divorce, illness, injury, blended families, job loss, or relocation all impact child development. And kids everywhere develop interests independent of their parents (I am one of them). Regardless of exceptions, parents will inevitably introduce their kids to their vocation, their hobbies, and their fandoms.

What self-respecting Red Sox fan would let their kids cheer for the Yankees? What mechanic doesn't teach their kids how to change the oil or a flat tire? It happens. We can't help it. My oldest son's second favorite band is Coldplay because they are one of my favorite bands. My youngest son's favorite part of summer was going hiking because I enjoy hiking. My daughter always wants to help me cook dinner because cooking is something that brings me joy. All three of my kids read comic books because I love comic books. I am indoctrinating my kids to appreciate music, the outdoors, good food, and superheroes. If you are a parent, your experience is probably similar.

3. Fear of indoctrination assumes the worst of your kids. It presumes they lack intelligence. It discounts their ability to make their own choices or develop their own beliefs. It ignores that other factors like teachers, friends, and media can have impacting influence over your kids. It concludes that your children's highest aspiration is to obey your every command. Anyone who has raised or is raising children knows these conclusions are false. Kids are smart - often smarter than we realize or anticipate.

My kids have all developed interests outside my areas of expertise. Christian loves Minecraft and wants to play at any available opportunity. Zu is my princess who wants jewelry, makeup, and every pair of shoe at the shoe store. JJ loves cars, trucks, motorcycles, and ... well, anything with an engine. They are all wicked smart. They want to trust people, yet they can often tell when someone lies to them. They observe far more than what they are told. And they are not afraid to share their opinion. Just like kids all over the world.

4. Avoiding anything resembling indoctrination ignores the possibility (inevitability?) of rebellion. Children change from finding sameness with their parents to embracing their own identity; it is an essential part of child development. Figuring out how to be autonomous is something every kid needs to do. That frequently means kids will question the beliefs and values of their parents, often to the point of rejection. And that's OK. Teenage rebellion is so common that it has become a trope in literature, TV, and movies.

Statistically speaking, a vast majority of kids raised in evangelical settings leave the church when they graduate high school. If Christian parents are indoctrinating their children, we're not doing a very good job of it. Even when kids (like me) do not leave the church when we become an adult, that doesn’t mean we have been brainwashed, it doesn't mean we conformed to our parent's beliefs. My father and I share the same religion, but we go to churches that are different in style and structure. We agree on essential tenets but differ in things that are not essential. We both mark the Christian box in demographic surveys but our faiths look very different.

5. When you actively avoid indoctrinating your kids, you also remove the opportunity to use your life as a lesson. I want my kids to learn from me. I want to lead by example and teach them good habits: how to be kind to others, how to take responsibility for their actions, and chase after their dreams as if no one can stop them. But I know that I am not a perfect man. I stumble and screw things up. I want them to learn from me when I fail, to learn how to apologize. And I hope they learn enough so that they don't repeat my mistakes.

If kids don't learn life’s lessons from you, they will learn it somewhere else - most likely somewhere less reputable. Your kids need your example. They need your good. They need your ugly. More than your religion, your politics, or your favorite ball team - they need you.