So Helpful

Many thanks to my son for putting his toy car in my bag this morning.  He knows what I like.

Heroes to the Rescue!

I’m Sorry

I feel a need to apologize because I have let many people down. Now before you feel like this is a generic plea for attention, let me assure you that I am not writing this post to gain pity. As you will see by the end of this blog, I am optimistic about my life and future. I am writing this to better understand what I have experienced. Writing is cathartic, and I am ready to explore my thoughts, feelings and actions in hopes of letting go and moving on. For many months I have been withdrawn from family, friends and other activities. Despite the many excuses that I have used to justify my solitude, it has been intentional.

The person that I owe the biggest apology to is my wife. She has been more than generous these past four years in giving me the opportunities to be where I am at today. She has inspired me to move beyond the average aspirations of Archie and reach for the highest goals. For too long she has carried the burden of being financially responsible for our small family. While I have had employment and student loans to supplement our income, I have not put in my share, and she has needed to make up the difference. Many times I would sit back and just figure that things would work out on their own, and it would be my wife who figured out how to make the ends meet, how to move us across the country and how to provide us with food clothing and shelter.

Now a mere sentence isn't going to make her life any easier. It is going to take a lot of work and energy to balance both school and work, but it is something that I need to do, not just for my wife but also my son. I would like to think that I am a great father, and in many ways I am. I love spending time with him—reading, wrestling, watching fire trucks or just cuddling. However, he needs more than a friend; he needs a dad that is there both physically and fiscally. He may see me less often, but he needs to be provided for by both parents and not just one.

Columbia has humbled me. I miss the days of being the smart one in the class and not having to study for anything. It seems now that I spend an obscene amount of time studying to be the person who is completely lost in the class. I need to make my time count here. I need to appreciate where I am at. While grades are important, I came here for an education. I will sound elitist for saying this, but I would rather be a B student from Columbia than an A student from somewhere else.

The greatest gift of being at this school is my peer group. I have never met so many amazing, talented, friendly and social people at one time as I have in the last few months. I need to spend more time with them. I can no longer hide from their invitations for dinner, parties and even study sessions. These people are the reason why this school is amazing. The professors may be smart, but the students and my class-mates rock!

I have been reclusive at church also. There was a time when I spent several hours a week working on projects and other church activities, but now I slip out the door when no one is looking. There is a wealth of friendship that is just waiting to be found within those doors, and I haven't opened them yet.

Lastly, to my family and friends, I am sorry for not answering my phone. I have felt like keeping my head under the ground until I had some good news to share, and in doing this, I have lost touch with so many people. Thank you for your repeated calls of care and concern. It is great to know that even with all of your responsibilities and burdens, many of you take the time to call me just to say hello and make sure that I am alright. I still may not answer the phone all the time, but I promise that I will work on it.

Now that I have gotten through these confessions, I am dropping two classes this Spring term and getting busy looking for a real job that will allow for professional development, personal satisfaction and a chance to finish my education. If you know of something, let me know. I am excited for a change and a chance to grow into a better, friend, brother, uncle, husband and father. As a great friend told me recently, I never take the easy way, and I am looking forward to this next challenge.

Tourist Time!!!

It has been some time since I have visited Rockefeller Center and Times Square, so tonight Little Man and I went there and had some good old fashion fun.

We...

went to the M&M Store,

saw the lights of Times Square,

and shared a jumbo slice of pizza!

Now we are home in our pajamas making homemade french-fries. Life is great!

Another Present

 
The best part about a vacation, is more vacation. With the awesome storm we just had, there are plenty of reasons to stay inside and enjoy some rest in bed.

I would like to say that I got the truck free from the surrounding snow, but I failed. I will try again tomorrow. The rest of the day involves cooking, baking, resting and watching movies. I love holi/snowdays.

“Easy there pilgrim”: Exploring Gender Assignment within a Binary System

    For a number of reasons, the biggest of which is time, I have not posted any of my papers for the semester on this blog. This is a research paper that I did for my University Writing course.


 
Citizens of the United States of America take great pride in the numerous technological advancements and various cultural influences that allow them to convey their individuality in a myriad of ways. From New York City to Los Angeles, freedom and eccentricity reign. Liberty is seen as the sacred foundation of this country, yet within this nation, traditional views about gender limit the free expression of those not defined within the current binary system, and in restraining their uniqueness they are inadequately able to express their autonomy.



    Gender has typically been viewed in terms of man and woman; this corresponds with our concept of sex—male and female, yet according to Kristin Zeiler and Anette Wickstrom of Linkoping University, 1.7 to 4% of children born are intersex, meaning to be born with ambiguous genitalia, which is more common than children born with Down's syndrome (Zeiler and Wickstrom 359). In their article "Why do 'we' perform surgery on new born intersexed children?" they point out that parents of these kids are often frustrated when entrusted medical professionals do not know what sex the infant is. If the sex is hard to determine, then the gender will also create more difficulty. This concept of intersex is hard to understand while still holding the traditional view of a binary nature of sex and gender (Zeiler and Wickstrom 364). Parents look to doctors to give them answers which do not always fall in their realm of expertise. If the child is born with a slow heart rate or shallow breathing, a doctor could prescribe a treatment, but with the case of intersex children, there is no clear answer because there isn't a clear understanding of the situation.


    To understand the concept of gender assignment, we must first realize that there is much that we do not know. Laura Erickson-Schroth, a resident at NYU Langone Medical Center and author of many books about trans-gender issues claims that a "common assumption is that gender and sex are the same thing" (Erickson-Schroth 60). While sex is determined by the chromosomes in our DNA, gender does not have clear markers that allow for a positive identification. Many suppose that the best way to determine gender is to assign it to the corresponding sex—the gender of "man" for males and "woman" for females. In severing this traditional link between sex and gender, pathways of expression that have been closed may now open. Erickson-Schroth goes on to describe why this linkage of sex and gender persists today: "Sexuality is more complicated than we could ever imagine, and yet we use rather simple language to describe it" (Erickson-Schroth 67). In other words, we use simple terms like man and woman, male and female, gay and straight to describe the entire population while completely denying the varying levels of each group and thereby suppressing their expression. Using binary terms like man and woman to describe one's gender would be like using only the terms happy and sad to describe our moods. When a person asked you how you felt, your only options would be wither happy or sad, but what if you felt pensive or grateful? How would you express yourself with such limited terms? By restricting our vocabulary to only two words like happy and sad, we hinder our ability to express how we feel—removing the beauty of speech. This inadequacy of our speech has created the deficit of understanding gender. Gender, like our own emotions, needs more than two options in order to be expressed.


    Perhaps one reason why we maintain this binary view on gender stems from one of the most popular American icons, John Wayne. Starring in over two hundred movies as a cowboy, war hero, and athlete, John Wayne's deep voice and natural height of 6'4" captured the attention of the American public, and he still remains one of the most popular movie stars of all time over thirty years after his death. Seen as the "man's man," Wayne embodied the strength, power and masculinity that an "ideal man" ought to become. Bob McGuire, a therapist and life coach wrote about the image of John Wayne and the effort put into keeping him masculine. "John Wayne actually had shorter doors to walk through on the sets, and they made the doors the women walked through higher to give the illusion that this great man, so big and so strong, was actually bigger and stronger than he was and the women were actually smaller and weaker than they were" (McGuire 42). The "manliness" of John Wayne was in part a fabrication of set designs set up to make the hero appear stronger than those that needed rescuing. Although John Wayne was a large man without any assistance, he was still enhanced to meet some unrealistic ideal of a real man. This concept of men being strong and tough trickles down to our perception of what boys should be also—little boys should play with trucks and guns while little girls play with dolls and dresses. While John Wayne may not be the origin of gender identification for men, his image and legacy impact children today.



    Alice Dreger, a professor of bioethics at the Feinberg School of Medicine, wrote an article entitled "Gender Identity Disorders in Childhood: Inconclusive Advice to Parents" in which she shares an example of a little boy, William, that likes to play with dolls and chooses to identify himself as a girl. William's parents placed him in therapy to cure him of his Gender Identity Disorder. The therapists prescribed a simple beginning treatment: "William will be given gender-neutral toys to replace his Barbie and My Little Pony and will, ideally, be led to develop friendships with other boys—not boys of the rough-and-tumble, army-toy-obsessed type, since William will never relate well to those boys, but boys of a calmer gentler variety" (Dreger 26). This handling already exposes the flaw of binary thinking regarding gender. The therapists feel the need to make William a "boy" despite his own desire to be a girl, yet they acknowledge that William will never be a boy that plays rough but will need to be assigned with softer boys to befriend. They recognize that even within the gender of boy, there are great differences, yet they are all given the same label. If there isn't a two-sizes-fit-all approach to gender, why do doctors, parents and cultural trends demand that everyone assimilate into one of the two accepted genders?



    William's behaviors would then be seen as natural in a different cultural environment such as Samoa where biological male children who express feminine traits from an early age are not put into therapy to remedy the behavior; they fall into a third category of gender called fa'afafine. Fa'afafine are born biological males. As these young boys grow and develop, they begin to demonstrate feminine characteristics, so their parents raise them as girls. Their gender is not seen as fixed, so they are assigned another gender that is a better fit for them. As adults, they dress as women, perform tasks traditionally reserved for women, date and have sexual intercourse with men who consider themselves straight, all with their original sexual organs. In this culture, fa'afafine are not seen as radical outcasts because "the culture has a system that accommodates their difference" (Dreger 28). Their language allows them to experience a more diverse way of life that is lacking here in the US. This open expression of a third gender allows those that do not fall into the man/women categories to claim their identity without repercussions.



     The acceptance of the fa'afafine stands in great contrast to the actions taken in Western societies. One European family was told by the doctor that their child who had XX chromosomes, female genes, would "make a very nice boy because of the child's genitals" (Zeiler and Wickstrom 366). Another family assigned their intersex child the male sex. When asked by the doctor whether they had chosen a name, the family informed the doctor that the child's name would be Johan, the doctor replied: "That is good. He must have a sterling boy's name" (Zeiler and Wickstrom 367). The doctor's implication that a boy must have a strong masculine name highlights the attempt to reinforce manly attributes further explained by McGuire, "Men are generally bigger and stronger and thus thought to be tougher, and women, generally smaller are thought to be weaker and sweeter... a deep, gruff male voice I associate with strength and roughness, and a soft female voice often sounds nurturing and innocent" (Mcguire 42). Just as John Wayne's masculinity was in part a fabrication of Hollywood set designs, families, doctors, teachers and friends continue to strengthen the elementary perception of gender. Western cultures have set up ideas and rules to maintain the two-gender system. These ideas are perpetuated by previous unfounded stereotypes.



     Many advocates, poets and social psychologists reject cultural norms and walk according to their own path, yet their language is still confined to the concept of just two genders. Harold Norse, a popular American writer who recently died in 2009 wrote a poem called "I'm Not a Man" in which he throws the traditional views of manhood aside in order to claim his own identity. He writes:

I'm not a man. I won't play the role assigned to me- the role created
by Madison Avenue, Playboy, Hollywood and Oliver Cromwell,
Television does not dictate my behavior.

Norse clearly understood that there is more to being a man than what we are taught in our culture, and argues against the traditional allocation of gender roles. He asserts that these identities are "created" (Norse) and disseminated by popular media. Men, like women, escape a simple definition. Each gender is complex, and ought not to be categorized simply by sex, yet the feelings that many men experience, like tenderness and vulnerability, must be hidden in order to maintain the illusion of masculinity they are assigned.



     However, many feel that gender ought to be protected and valued within the two-gender system. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as "the Mormons," issued a statement in 1995 called "The Family: A Proclamation to the World" where they claim: "All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose" (Hinkley 1). Gender, according to the LDS church, is specifically linked to a person's sex, and ought to be a measure on which life assignments and duties should be decided. The LDS Church's simple assessment of sex and gender relates to Erickson-Schroth's previous assertion that we use "simple language" (67) in understanding the nature of human sexuality. By maintaining a binary system, religions are able to synchronize their doctrine and avoid moral ambiguities; Male and Female, Right and Wrong, Heaven and Hell, Salvation and Damnation all reinforce a dichotomous language. While religious groups are certainly entitled to their opinions, these opinions do not allow a significant number of people that do not fall into the male/female roles to have a voice. According to Zeiler and Wickstrom, a limited vocabulary like this leads one to associate anything outside of the male and female genders with "silence and shame" (373). The lack of religious language to describe other genders leads those who do not accept a traditional gender role to associate their feelings with something unnatural, while the indifferent attitudes of the majority push the minority further away in embracing their own doctrine of correctness.



     There is also some merit in maintaining traditional views on gender through sex assignment surgery. Zeiler and Wickstrom point out that for intersex children "Surgery is part of the identity work… if parents do not have their child undergo surgery, they contribute to the child's gender identity confusion" (369). Children are exposed to the binary gender system in every encounter with friends, classmates and family members. In not assigning them a gender, they will be even more confused about their identity than if they were assigned a wrong gender. A child who is not given an identity to explore will face the dangerous world of their peer group without peers. An early gender identity, even a wrong one, gives a child the right "look" in order to fit in. By allowing a child to determine their own sex and gender in their own time, parents set their children up for disaster. Gender identity is a critical step in developing a social identity. Making friends, going to the bathroom and even seating assignments at times require some form of gender assignment. Jr. High School is a difficult time without the added complication of not having a sex or gender identity. Dreger also agrees with this philosophy noting that "children should not have to get caught up in adult politics of sex, gender, and sexual orientation" (Dreger 27). Children are not pawns to be used as fodder in an ever-increasing battle regarding gender issues and sexual orientation, but Dreger also uses an example from Ken Zucker, a psychologist and sexologist, to elaborate on the need to avoid surgery in reference to William, the little boy who identified as a girl: "if yours were a black family and William were insisting that he is white, the right approach would not be to ask doctors to help make William white" (Dreger 27). While the surgical method will certainly "reduce parental distress and trauma" (Zeiler and Wickstrom 361), it may not be in the best interest of the child.


     Determining the best interest of the child presents its own set of problems because there is not simple solution. Just as Erickson-Schroth explained that "sexuality is more complicated than we could ever imagine…," (67) Zeiler and Wickstrom also point out that parents of intersex children discover "sex is much more fluid than they had previously thought to be the case" (368). Modern thought is now learning what Samoan culture has known for generations—there are more than two genders. The fa'afafine may not the dominant gender in Somoa, or the most popular, but at least they are given the chance to live in a way that brings them happiness. This fluidity of gender roles captures the need to open our understanding of gender beyond the current state. If we know that sex and gender do not correspond, and we know that there can be more than one gender within a culture and it will not collapse, then we should be willing in establishing new terminology in gender identity.



    Language regarding gender, sex and sexual orientation needs to be broadened. In expanding the vocabulary within these issues, Western culture and American citizens will find that there are more similarities among that which has previously been viewed as different. A more diverse lexicon will lead to a more diverse population, allowing the disenfranchised to take part in the great American experience of liberty.

Daddy Day

 
If you ever wonder what Little Man and I do when we spend the day together, this is it. He plays the guitar, and I get free entertainment.

He Loves Oatmeal

His Future's So Bright...

Little Man Time!

Every night between 8pm and 9pm we have "Little Man Time." This is a dedicated hour for me to spend with Captain Crazy because my schedule has me leaving the house at 3:30 in the morning and not coming home until 7 or 8. Sometimes we clean, sometimes we read and sometimes we play! Tonight, we played. It was fun. I like Little Man Time.

Global Warming

We went north to the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory's open house this morning, and little man thought that this was the best exhibit--probably because it was his height and it had toy cars. He asked for his picture to be taken, so I obliged. We learned about earthquakes, magma, oceanography, bamboo bicycles, hurricanes and crappy shuttle buses.

Caramel Apples

We bought some apples at an orchard yesterday in New Jersey to make some caramel apples. Even though we were short some awesome ingredients to have awesome toppings, they were still a blast to make. We will see how they taste after dinner, but I have a feeling that Little Man is not going to complain about free sugar...

Cherry Garcia

At the Pagan Pride festival, little man chose a Cherry Garcia ice cream bar for a snack, and it was delicious. We are chilling at Battery Park watching the boats, people and Sponge Bob.

Making Memories

Since little man and I were awake early this morning, we decided to go share some French Toast at Tom's diner.

I love my school!

Ice cream, Low Library, cute baby, awesome city, Columbia has it all!

Wings Worth Driving For

We spent some time this morning/afternoon driving to Long Beach Island in New Jersey for some most delicious Sloppy Fries (french fries covered with sloppy joe and cheese) and chicken wings.  I would have posted a "before" picture of this great meal, but I couldn't wait to start eating.  NJ may have a bad reputation, but it is home to me.

Dinner And A Sundae At Tom's

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You might recognize it from this photo.

Something Creative

I chatted with a friend recently and reminisced about the Creative Non-Fiction class we shared. This conversation made me realize that I missed sharing some of the more creative aspects of my life, so I am sharing this story. I wrote this for A, and it is meant to be read as a children's book. Take the time to read it (if you want to read it) out loud and pause at the appropriate breaks.

I hope you like it.


 
The Princess's Journey

In the very recent past, and in a Royal Kingdom close to this very spot, The Most High Queen and The Great King had a baby. They loved this little princess so much that they wanted to give her a kingdom of her very own!


 
This kingdom had customs that were not like those we know here, and this little princess needed to make a great journey to arrive at her kingdom. They could not take her themselves, so they selected others to teach the princess about her kingdom and how to get there.


 
The Most High Queen and The Great King entrusted the infant to a Brave Duke and Learned Duchess. The Duke had fought in many battles and helped other royal children journey to their kingdoms. The Duchess had traveled through many distant lands and learned the many languages and cultures of the different people.


 
Together they journeyed through the land, meeting the people, singing their songs and playing their games. They taught the princess about trust, learning and compassion. The Brave Duke reminded the princess everyday about the beautiful kingdom she would inherit, and about all the power that would be hers.


 
As the princess grew older, so did the Duke and Duchess. One night, while lying down for the evening, the Duke commented that he felt particularly tired that night. The next morning he was nowhere to be found. The Duchess and the princess continued their journey together. Soon the princess found herself traveling alone to find her kingdom.


 
Undaunted, the princess set out to learn from the best scholars the path to her kingdom. She traveled to many distant lands and met with the brightest and smartest people, but they could not tell her where her kingdom was at. When she was hungry, people gave her food. When she was cold, people gave her clothing, and when she was tired, people gave her place to rest.


 
One day she met an old man by the side of the road. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. "Of course your majesty," replied the elder. "Is this my kingdom?" asked the princess. The old man laughed and said, "No, this is not your kingdom. No one can own this land. That would be like owning the sun or wind. It does not belong to us. Keep looking and you will find your kingdom." The princess thanked him and continued her journey.


 
Over the years she had many friends travel with her. Some would travel for a few minutes, and others would travel for a few years. Then she met the prince. This prince was on a journey much like the princess', but he had found his kingdom and decided that he wanted to help the princess find hers.


 
This prince was not like the other people that she had met along the way. There was something about him that she liked. Maybe it was the way that he made her laugh, or maybe she like the way that he could make her angry. Maybe it was because he loved to meet new people and see new sights just like her.


 
Together they made many friends and traveled very far. When they met people that were hungry, they gave them food. When they met people that were cold, they gave them clothes, and when they met people that were tired, they gave them rest.


 
The princess loved the people that she met, and made sure that everyone was treated fairly and honestly. Some days the princess would be sad that she had not found her kingdom, but the prince would cheer her up and tell her that her kingdom was getting closer every day.


 
They grew older and older, teaching, learning, sharing, blessing, loving and traveling.


 
One evening as they were going to sleep, the prince said that he was particularly tired that night, and the next morning the princess was alone.


 
Still she continued to look for her kingdom, but she found that she was much happier as she helped those around her. Many came from faraway places to learn from the not-so-young princess. She gave food to those that were hungry, clothes to those that were cold, and comfort to those that were sad.


 
Finally, there came a night where she felt particularly tired.


 
The next morning when she awoke, she saw The Great King standing beneath a tree and ran to him. "Father!" she yelled as she gave him a giant hug. "Hello my daughter, I have missed you," said The Great King. The princess wanted to tell him everything that she had learned, but as she pulled away from his embrace, she saw that she was young again and did not know what to say. "Go to your mother," said the Great King.


 
The princess looked around and saw the most loving form of The Most High Queen and wondered how she didn't see her there before. "Mom!" was all she could say before tears came running down her cheeks. "Why are you crying?" asked The Most High Queen. Through the tears, the princess said, "Because I never found my kingdom." The Most High Queen hugged the princess tightly and whispered, "You have never been far from your great kingdom. Turn around."


 
The princess turned around and finally saw her kingdom.

An Apple A Day...

... keeps everyone away!

New Table

Eating mac&cheese on our new table the wife bought for 20 dollars, is a great way to spend an evening.

WallE Won

Nap time is always best with a good movie and a comfortable carseat.

NIghtime in Morningside

Last night was our first family night in Morningside Heights, and we took a walk through the Columbia campus.  That is the Butler Library behind us.  This is going to be a great place to live!

We Kept The Glasses

Waiting While Hungry

Proof That My Son Is Mexican

He did not learn to ride his stroller like this from me.

Reflection

The last few months have not been easy. Moving to NYC, not starting classes at NYU, not having secure housing for my family, and UPS dragging their feet on my work transfer put my faith in life, love and religion to the test. While I do not claim to have undergone any trial that surpasses those of my friends and family, this past season of chaos has allowed me to search deeper into the personal relationship I have with my Deity. Time and time again, this poem by Whittier, one of my favorite poets, has returned to my memory.

I hope you find some aspect of his work that relates to you.

The Eternal Goodness

O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.

I trace your lines of argument;
Your logic linked and strong
I weigh as one who dreads dissent,
And fears a doubt as wrong.

But still my human hands are weak
To hold your iron creeds:
Against the words ye bid me speak
My heart within me pleads.

Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?
Who talks of scheme and plan?
The Lord is God! He needeth not
The poor device of man.

I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of God.

Ye praise His justice; even such
His pitying love I deem:
Ye seek a king; I fain would touch
The robe that hath no seam.

Ye see the curse which overbroods
A world of pain and loss;
I hear our Lord's beatitudes
And prayer upon the cross.

More than your schoolmen teach, within
Myself, alas! I know:
Too dark ye cannot paint the sin,
Too small the merit show.

I bow my forehead to the dust,
I veil mine eyes for shame,
And urge, in trembling self-distrust,
A prayer without a claim.

I see the wrong that round me lies,
I feel the guilt within;
I hear, with groan and travail-cries,
The world confess its sin.

Yet, in the maddening maze of things,
And tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed trust my spirit clings;
I know that God is good!

Not mine to look where cherubim
And seraphs may not see,
But nothing can be good in Him
Which evil is in me.

The wrong that pains my soul below
I dare not throne above,
I know not of His hate, - I know
His goodness and His love.

I dimly guess from blessings known
Of greater out of sight,
And, with the chastened Psalmist, own
His judgments too are right.

I long for household voices gone.
For vanished smiles I long,
But God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.

I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,
The bruised reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.

No offering of my own I have,
Nor works my faith to prove;
I can but give the gifts He gave,
And plead His love for love.

And so beside the Silent Sea
I wait the muffled oar;
No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.

I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.

O brothers! if my faith is vain,
If hopes like these betray,
Pray for me that my feet may gain
The sure and safer way.

And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen
Thy creatures as they be,
Forgive me if too close I lean
My human heart on Thee!

-John Greenleaf Whittier

Auras

We went to one of our favorite stores in Chinatown over the weekend. They have an assortment of crystals, teas and oils used for the enhancement of one's energy. They also take aura photos there, and we each had one taken.

 

Just another reason as to why we are awesome!

Sharing Some Tasti!

Daddy Lessons

I took Little Man to the park this afternoon, and taught him the art of rolling down a hill.  That is what dads are for.

Fetch!

Who needs a dog when you have a Little Man?

He Does it His Way

Party of Two

Little Man decided to join his mother in the shower.  I hope next time he remembers to take his clothes off first. 

I Must Smell Funny

This morning I got my very own subway car.  I had just finished at UPS, so I must have smelt really bad if no one wanted to come in with me.

Too Tired to Play

Feeding the Geese

Washington Square Park

NYU

Spent some time tonight in Washington Square Park thinking about life.  No answers, just thoughts.

Waiting for the train

Waiting Out the Storm

Here we are in Douglas Wy. with nothing to do but sit and hope that the highway opens soon.

Religion & Culture

When one considers religion as field of Academic study, the societal influences and cultural biases create a world where creed, code, cult and community clash against the secular understandings of a nation that claims the autonomy from religion in daily life. The very definition of religion opens the door to seeing the most mundane and minute beliefs and practices of the American people as religious gatherings. In accepting the "American Religion" of freedom and the right to express one's self, bridges of understanding are built between former foes, and pluralism becomes a new format where all belief is sacred and "the other" transforms to one's brother.

    Defining religion in the terms of creed- the word or belief of a people, code- the rules or boundaries stemming from the creed, cult- the group practices and traditions and community- the social structure of the organization, allows the scholar to analyze all aspects of American culture from sports to government and fraternities to churches. This broad characterization may seem daunting to those who wish to keep a system of easy labels, but this classification also gives credibility to the young religions of America trying to establish their theology in a nation awash in relativism.

    Prior to taking this class, my personal experience had lead me to judge that the religion of Scientology was not a religion at all, but an elaborate systematic approach of using blackmail, extortion and fear to gain power and money. However, this course helped me to differentiate the cultural practices and personal beliefs of the religious men and women of all faiths. Breaking past my prejudice and judgments, I see the common thread of their religion to my own- their belief to mine- our shared goal of a better world where everyone gathers according to the dictates of their own conscience.

    Furthermore, as people are able to distinguish the cultural traditions in their religious worship, they are given the opportunity to find their faith once again. There can be no doubt that religion and culture constantly rub and crash against each other; creating two separate yet similar worlds full of art, inspiration and order that shape our society for good and bad. In removing the cultural influence from religion, religion can be found in an undiluted form. This concentrate becomes the basis for a new faith free from the changing trends of modern culture. In removing religious influences from culture, societies may examine their motives for change and no longer hide behind the mask of religious conviction to enact change or suppress humanity.

    In conclusion, the religious diversity in America is what defines this nation. In all our actions, words and beliefs, our nation constantly changes to meet the needs of its citizens. In recognizing that we are united by our differences, we are no longer defined by what we are not, but we become a people who embrace "the other" as they are us, and we are them.

He is full

After eating three slices of french toast at Dees, Little Man kicked back to relax and enjoy the conversation.

Another English Paper

I just finished my last draft of a humor essay for my class. This was fun to write, and I hope it is fun to read also.

 

I had just turned 12 and starting the 7^th grade in a new state. This could be seen as an adventure for some kids, discovering new friends, new teachers and new ways to skip class. For me this was not the case. I had just finished my first year of middle school in Texas where 6^th grade is the starting point, and I dreaded the thought of facing the social pecking order where I was sure to be on the bottom. In Tennessee, I was starting the new school year at MacMurray Jr. High as an outcast; I was white, fat and the new kid. Oh yeah, I was also a Mormon in a school filled with Baptists.

 

    The first day of class we found that each classroom had a list of names containing the students that were to gather there for "homeroom announcements." Since it was the first day I felt relieved to find that the teacher had assigned our seats, so that I had a guaranteed place to sit without the rejection that came from asking the dreaded question: "Is this seat taken?"

 

    The Vice Principal came into our room to inform us that we would be taking a test on our first day, "This test doesn't count for anything." She said. Since there wasn't a reason to lie to us, I took her at her word. Surely if this test meant anything, they wouldn't offer it on the first day, or at least they would wait until the end of the day to test us. What could they possibly test us on: the color of lockers in the hall, or the number of our school bus? Our teacher reinforced this while handing out the test, "Don't feel pressured because it doesn't count for anything. In fact, we won't even grade them." She said. I believed her.

    

Immediately after my parents' divorce, I learned that any in-class work could be skipped if I put my head down on the desk and kept a solemn look on my face. I was in 1^st grade, and was tired one morning when the teacher stopped her lesson. "Archie," she said, "is everything alright? Do you want to go talk to someone?" Right away I smelled weakness, and I knew that I had the upper hand. From that point on when the class got boring or when we started math, I would become very "sad" and need to talk with the counselor while playing with the assortment of trucks in his office. He would try to get me to talk with him, but my reply was always the same: "Talking about it makes me miss my daddy." He stopped asking, and I kept playing. This act was a win-win-win for all of us. I got to play; the teacher didn't have sad kid in her class, and the counselor felt that he was helping me through a rough time in my life.

 

Since this test "didn't count" I figured that I would just fill in some bubbles on the scan-tron and spend the rest of the time counting the little holes in the ceiling tiles with the "sad" look on my face. This worked and after watching the other kids in the class struggle with the test for over an hour, I felt pretty smart for not wasting my time with a test that didn't count.

 

Right away the bubbled answer sheets were collected and whisked away to the front office. In class we reviewed the school and classroom policies while I tried my best to blend in with the rest of the students by un-tucking my shirt and messing up my combed hair. I would have traded my little sister for an Atlanta Braves jacket right then. More than half of my peers showed their support for the Braves with either hats or coats. I remained one of three White kids in the room trying desperately not to notice the turning heads and hushed whispers.

 

Soon after the all the rules had been reviewed, the Vice Principal returned with more news. "We will divide you up into smaller groups for your actual classes. " She said. "These groups will meet with the other 7^th grade homeroom classes for your courses." One by one, she read the names of the students and their assigned group. I became a Mac. I couldn't think of a better group name than something from McDonald's, so this new school was starting to seem really cool after all.

 

Within weeks of class starting, even the small kids were picking on me. My ability to blend in didn't work in this place where adolescence was the eighth circle of Dante's hell. My name had been changed to "Doughboy" or "Marshmallow Man" with the teachers joining in on the joke. One short, stocky woman who had the honor of educating the largest group of seventh graders ever assembled in one class would often mutter "Mormon" or "Doughboy" when passing my desk. Prior to entering this school, I did not know what puberty was. Within hours of passing through the doors, I was introduced to a world of body odor, hair and testosterone that rivaled the locker rooms of the NFL. I would have been shoved into my locker daily, but after their first attempt, and realizing that I could not fit because of my roundness; my "friends" decided that kicking my books was a better option.

 

I couldn't figure out why they hated me so much, the classes were super easy and everyone had just as much time to answer the questions as I did. The lessons went a little something like this: Teacher- "How do we kill the germs in water?" Archie- "Boil the water." Teacher- "Back when all the continents were together, what was that called?" Archie- "Pangaea." Teacher- "Why is Doughboy answering all the questions?" Doughboy- "I don't know."

 

I took the teasing and the kicking just as some test of my character. I never let it get to me, and mostly figured that since the majority of the kids were Baptist and I wasn't, that must be the source of the problem. Until one afternoon when a girl who towered next to me in her desk asked a simple question that answered all of mine. "Why are you in the retard class?" She asked. With that question I looked around the room and realized why I was hated; with thoughts reviewing the past weeks of abuse and scorn, I noticed that my classmates looked a couple years older and in most cases they were. Our "Mac group" was the remedial class. They had all been held back from advancing and resented anyone who showed signs of moving on.

 

The words of the Vice Principal echoed in my head: "This doesn't count for anything." She was right; they never showed us our graded test, or even entered them on a class log. That boring test I choose to sleep through was a placement test, and that was the moment that I learned that sometimes even when it doesn't count, it does.

My Sick Boy

I hate it when he doesn't feel well, but he is really cute!

There Is a Free Lunch

Little Man had a full lunch today consisting of free samples from Mother Earth health food store in Sandy.  Fruit, breads, soymilk and cookies, who could ask for anything better?

For Those Who Doubt

Here is my new haircut.  I wanted to try something... different.

Little Man Loves Them Veggie Sausages

D-A-D

This lyric essay was for my English class. I find that writing non-fiction stirs up some old memories, and the more I write, the more I remember. Perhaps some good will come from all this writing...

On March 23, 2008 I became a dad. Standing next to my wife after 30+ hours of labor, we were anxious to greet this new baby into our family. I stood by my wife's side pushing, pulling, comforting and coaching her long into the night and into the early morning of my best Easter ever. When the midwife asked me if I wanted to catch the baby I quickly responded that I didn't know, but that did not stop her from telling me how to cradle his little neck into my hand and prepare for the next push. My son, a beautiful gooey mess of purple skin and slimy hair, slid into my hands at 1:11am, and my life changed forever. I held him as he took his first breath. I held him as he cried; shocked at the cold air that now surrounded him. I held him as he nestled into his mother's arms. I was a daddy.

When I was eight I didn't know how to ride a bike. This wouldn't be a problem if my friends didn't like to ride, but we were living in Louisiana, where every street and vacant lot had an adventure to be explored. I tried to blend in with my training wheels keeping me upright, but how could any self-respecting lizard hunter and tadpole collector go on safari with training wheels? My parents had divorced several years earlier, and despite my mom's best effort to give us everything we needed, I still needed a dad. That is where my French speaking friend Felix stepped in, and taught me one of the most basic lessons in life. We hijacked my sister's training wheel free bike and started practice. I fell, and I fell a lot. When I wanted to quit, I was told that the only way to learn was to get back on and fall some more. Felix patiently helped me off the ground and on the bike every time I fell. Finally the moment came when I was pedaling faster than he could run. I was on my own! I wish I knew the words that Felix shouted as I made my way down the sidewalk and across the street. I wish that I knew the words in French to thank my friend who stepped into a role that wasn't required of him. I wish I knew where he was today.

At thirteen I was the fat, white, Mormon kid in a school where I did not fit in. Tennessee was not a great place for me to attend junior high. Really though, is there ever a great place to attend junior high? Up until this point in my life, basketball was played on a six foot hoop with friends late into the evening. This concept of a ten foot hoop played in a gym with a bunch of large strangers seemed foreboding at best. Not knowing any rules, I hoped to avoid detection by just standing to the side and letting the other boys work their magic. I was great at standing. In fact, I was so great at standing that they let me stand under the hoop and took turns driving down the key and slamming their massive frames into my prepubescent body. Since they all seemed to enjoy this, I must be doing something right. So in spite of the pain and embarrassment I remained under the hoop to serve as the "dummy" for their practice. It would have been nice to know the rules of the game, but I did not have that option. Life dealt me a hand free from the education of sports and the knowledge of how to stand up to a bully. I didn't like it. I didn't know any different. I thought that this is just the way life is.

My son is still growing. At 18 months, he has life figured out. He knows how to eat. He knows how to communicate as he makes the signs for "food", "milk", "more" and "diaper." He even knows where to find my wallet and pull out all of its contents. The other day we were in the backyard, and I was watching him play on the slide. Climbing up the ladder and then going down the slide, he spent his time enjoying the beautiful day. After a few climbs and a few slides, he lost his balance and was close to falling off the slide. I watched from a distance knowing that he was only two feet from the ground, and that as much as I wanted to help him back into place, it was important that he learn life lessons like this on his own. He eventually climbed back into place. Looking around the yard he saw me and smiled. Taking a break from his toys, he climbed into my lap seeking comfort and love from someone who will always be there to give it. I love my son. I enjoy every moment of watching him grow. I am a dad.

Free Will

The Great Delusion

 

    Among philosophers from different backgrounds, the free will problem continues to create debates and stand in contrast with the omniscience of God. If one supposes that God is a perfect being, all knowing, all good, all powerful, then how can man act independently of God's will? Wouldn't the will of an all-powerful god have power to force the human race into submission? From the Determinist to the Libertarian, many conflicting views create the uncertainty of our role in the world.

    In order to come to an answer about free will, we must first understand the three schools of thought in regards to the nature of God. By understanding the theology and definitions of God, we can then define our relationship with Him.

I claim that free will does exist and does not take away any traits from a perfect God; rather the existence of free will proves that not only is God omnipotent but also merciful and loving—traits that should be held by a Supreme Being.

The Determinist

    A classical theologian like Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) subscribed to the theology of determinism which is: "the view that everything that happens is uniquely determined to happen by prior events and states of the universe (Shatz, 556)." In other words, God has already set life into motion, and everything that will happen has been decided by God before any person came into existence. A determinist believes that God is the source of everything. If anything happens, then it happened because God wanted it to be that way. All of our actions, past and future, have been decided, and we are not free to act on our own.

This philosophy is strengthened when one considers the omniscience of God. If God is all knowing, then He knows how we will act. A perfect God must possess this attribute of knowing everything in order to be supreme. If God knows that something will happen, then it must happen or He will no longer be omniscient— and no longer worthy of our worship.

    While this form of belief may bring comfort to many who look for order in a chaotic world, this notion of God eliminating our ability to choose unsettles many. For those looking to have a personal relationship with deity, the deterministic view is cold and subservient. According to William Hasker, a professor at Huntington College, this relationship with God can be compared to a puppet tied by string to a puppet master who controls all movements and voice (Shatz, 56). In following the deterministic philosophy, a person surrenders all autonomy to this higher power and acknowledges their station in life as the will of God.

    The critique of determinism continues with the issues of sin and evil. If one supposes that a benevolent God is the source and cause of everything, then where does evil come from? How could a perfectly good God create evil? How can a person sin when God has decided that choice for them? To answer these questions while keeping with the deterministic philosophy, all things are done because that is the way God had planned it. This answer does not provide any clarity on the questions of evil and sin, nor does it help the believer build a personal relationship with this God. In claiming that God is the source of all suffering, the believer cannot seek comfort or refuge, or plead for help from this being. This callous thinking comforts only those who want to have a concrete explanation for the mysteries of life.

The Compatibilist

    The philosophy of the Compatibilist closely resembles that of the Determinist in that a person's free will is real and in harmony with determinism. A person can act according their own will and desire if it is true for them to act at that time. A person can only make a choice if that choice has been approved. With compatibilism, God retains all His power, knowledge and goodness while still allowing humans their freedom to choose.

    The compatibilist argument satisfies both the need for God to be perfect and the human need for independence. Each and every person is able to act according to their own will. However, this idea of free will cannot be real if our choices are contingent on the need to be "true" for us. We have two choices when waking up in the morning: get out of bed on the right side, or get out of bed on the left side. We could choose either option, but the perfect omniscient God would already know what side we will get out from. This perfect God cannot be wrong. Therefore, our action must comply, and be "true" for us. The only choice we can make will be the choice that God already knows. While we may think that we have options, God knows that we have only one action—His action; thus causing our free will to be nothing more than an illusion.

This illusion of free will may still give comfort to people who look to God for answers to life, but there are many still that do not see how an illusion of free will is the same thing as being able to choose. We are still trapped inside of a prison even if we do not realize it.

The Libertarian

    Libertarians, or incompatibilists, argue that free will is real. According to Hasker: "an agent is free with respect to a given action at a given time if at that time it is within the agent's power to perform that action and also in the agent's power to refrain from that action. (Shatz, 55)" A person can act however they desire if they are able to and if they can say no. We simply can't try to fly and then claim that God is restricting our free will because we are not able to avoid the law of gravity, but we could choose to jump off a cliff, or choose to not jump off a cliff without any determined outcome. In this view of free will, we are truly free agents to according to our own desires.

    This libertarian view of free will also eliminates the problem of sin and evil. People are free to choose—to sin or not sin. If a person is considered "evil" or a "sinner" they have chosen that path; God did not decide this for them.

    However, the problem with this idea arises when talking about the power of God. In the libertarian philosophy, God is no longer all knowing as there is no way that He can know how we will act if the choice is left to us. If God does not know something then He is no longer perfect. The Libertarian now must tweak the concept of God to fit with his definition of free will.

God is still omniscient, but that does not mean that He sees the future. Rather as an all knowing God, He knows everything that can be known. He cannot be expected to know things that have not occurred as they have not yet happened. Strengthening this argument further, the Libertarian then asserts that God knows all the possible outcomes for any situation we are in. While He may know our many options and their outcomes, He allows us to make that choice for ourselves.

The Determinist vs. The Libertarian

    In comparing these three views, we can quickly eliminate the compatibilistic argument as they eventually revert back to the deterministic view that the outcome is already known to God and therefore must happen. The remaining two arguments both have strengths that appeal to the believer. The God of the Determinist is all knowing; there is nothing unknown or surprising to this God. The Libertarian will admit that there are things that his God does not know.

    The Determinist takes comfort in knowing that all problems and sorrows come from God for some unknown reason, but by faith they accept this as divine. The Libertarian cannot answer for the calamities that fall upon the human race. However, the Libertarian can claim to be a free agent in respect to God while the Determinist can't. The Libertarian takes comfort in building a personal relationship with this Supreme Being whereas the Determinist's relationship with God remains distant and cold as they have no claim on their own actions of good or evil.

Conclusion

    The libertarian argument remains the stronger of the two as it clearly allows for a more intimate understanding of God. In their argument of God's omniscience, they do not take away from His power and glory, but they still are able to explain the problem of evil and sin. The deterministic view creates a rigid unbending law that can only be explained by denying simple logic. One must deny that free will exists, and also they must deny that God is able to change.

    I agree with the libertarian view also because of my desire to act as an independent agent. Clearly there is a selfish reason to this thinking, but the evidence of their argument also allows for God to still know all possible outcomes. Isn't that knowledge still worthy of worship? The assertion that free will is just an illusion still remains a possibility, but clearly delving into a debate on relativism in regards to this will only lead to more questions and fewer answers. In believing in free will and the existence of a loving benevolent God, we must subscribe to libertarianism as that theology allows for both the perfect God and the free man.

 

Works Cited

Shatz, David. Philosphy and Faith: A Philosophy of Religion Reader. 1st ed. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill Higher Education, 2002. Print.

Little Man vs. Akela

New Toy

In my attempt to go "green" and lose weight, I bought this bike.  Soon I will be riding to work and school on this new friend, but first I need to get around the block without having to take a break.  This is going to be a great workout.

Feeling Patriotic

These colors don't run!!!

Or cover my belly.