Terrible events have ways of bringing people together.  As more friends and family have started to pass away, I have found myself being reunited with friends and family with whom I have lost contact over the years.  This was certainly true for the visitation I attended tonight.

As the viewing was for one of my former coworkers, I found myself in the company of many friends who I have missed so much since I left Colon Schools.  The viewing was temporarily closed off as family a friends could say a Rosary or wait outside.  Our group used that opportunity to get back in touch with one another.

While there are number of reasons that I am glad that I left Colon to teach elsewhere, I certainly have missed the people with whom I used to work.  We were very much a family.  I have developed friendships and have worked to bring my coworkers at Lincoln closer together as well, and have felt that our relationships have improved, but it's a bigger school and the chemistry between people is different.

As I approached my former colleagues tonight, it was a joy to see their faces light up as they recognized me and greeted me with smiles and hugs.  While we were gathered for a solemn occasion, we also basked in our renewed friendship.  Somehow, it didn't seem like over nine years had passed since I had seen some of them.  We promised to stay in better contact, and I sincerely hope that we do so.

A series of break-ins have occurred within a few miles of our house.  Thus far, the assailants have not been caught.  I don't know many details about the situation, but Janelle has been concerned enough to leave on our porch light throughout the night.

While I will leave questions about the effectiveness of this particular practice aside, I realized that my greatest concern isn't that they might take some of my valuables, but that they might break into our home while we are still in it.  Things are things, but the thought of something happening to my children has me wondering if we should invest in an alarm system, or at least some NRA stickers to put on the house windows.

When Annie was still alive, I felt a bit more protected.  Between her night-time prowling and Janelle's light sleeping, I believed that we would have plenty of response time should an intruder decide to enter our house.  Now that we don't have a dog (at least for the time being) and since Janelle's light sleeping has seemingly gotten deeper, I find myself a bit more anxious at night.  I have been waking up more often and feeling more tired in the morning even after a longer time in bed.

I suppose that it doesn't help that I still hold onto a bit of my childhood fear of the dark, particularly when I'm still in a dreamy haze.  Maybe keeping that outdoor light on will at least make it so I don't go bump in the dark as often.

Today's first reading and Gospel both use the parable of the vineyard owner.  In both cases, the vineyard owner builds a wall (or hedge), a wine press, and a tower.  In the first reading, wild grapes take over his fields.  In the Gospel, he rents out the land, but when he sends servants for his portion the harvest, the tenants beat, abuse, and kill them.  He then sends his son, hoping they will respect him, but they they abuse and kill him too.  In both cases, the landowner eventually abandons the land or the tenants and seeks others who will be productive.  These aren't nice tales.  They don't have happy endings.  They warn about neglecting the will of God, that the rewards promised to us will go to others if we don't do our part in making the world a better place.

In truth, my focus this mass was not on the readings as much as on the homily.  Our pastor discussed the role of exorcism in the Catholic Church.  It was one of the longest sermons that I can remember.  While it dealt with the presence of the devil and demons in our world (a topic that I wrote about this week, even), I found myself not being entirely accountable.  Instead, I was worrying about the length of the mass, especially since there was also a baptism.  I usually don't mind long services, myself (in fact, I miss Fr. Jim's three hour Easter Vigil), but I know that they stress out my father, and that my wife had a meeting today.  So, as the homily went on, I couldn't help but feel my anxiety grow.

My mind tends to wander anyway.  I even have that problem when I'm praying on my own.  My thoughts drift.  When I was younger, I intentionally brought my daydreams to the forefront of my thoughts as a way to pass the time more quickly.  Now that I have a better understanding of the beauty of the mass, I still find those childish habits returning and my focus disappearing.  I still listened to the parables about the vineyards and the discussion about demon possession, but I did not give them the concentration I feel they deserved.

I suppose that this is how some of my students feel as I talk about history.

It wasn't until my first child was born that I realized how deeply I could care for someone.  My love for my family is boundless.  Especially considering how vulnerable they are when they enter the world, my natural protectiveness towards my children is entirely understandable.  

What might be less understandable is that this protectiveness extends to my students as well.  Although not quite to the same degree as my feelings for my own children, my desire to help my students and keep them safe from the dangers of the world is still embedded deeply in the very fiber of my being.  I know that I can't protect all of them, but I hurt when they are hurting.

I know that part of this is also due to my "hero complex," the condition where I want to solve everyone's problems even though I don't have the qualifications to do so.  I want to be a hero for my students, to give them the chance to be the best possible versions of themselves.  When I hear stories of children who encounter terrible trials, painful events, and early deaths, I can feel the pain keenly as if something has punctured my heart.

This is why teachers at Newtown, Connecticut, stood between a crazed gunman and the children in their care.  Despite the politics, the bad press, insufficient compensation, and sometimes terrible working conditions, teachers still walk into their classrooms every day in the hopes of making their students' lives better.  You might think that I'm being overly dramatic, but I guarantee you that I am not.

Don't mess with my students.

As I have a bit more time on my hands for the first time in over eight years, I have decided to spend a bit more of it outside.  Otherwise we have all been spending too much of our time either watching TV or playing computer games (especially now that Connor has caught the video game addiction).  And so for the past few days, my boys and I have been taking walks around our neighborhood and finishing with a few shots with the basketball.  

Connor is riding his new, but already too small, bike.  He's still getting the hang of the pedals, and today was the first day that he made it up the first hill by himself (I still had to push him up the second hill).  The training wheels are still on, but he needs a bit more practice with the steering and pedaling before they should come off.  Rowen, meanwhile, is learning to stay to the side of the road and is able to run for quite a while.  It is cute to see him bend a bit and rest his hands on his knees when he gets a bit winded.  Trevor still likes to prove that he can beat all of us home.

My basketball skills have certainly atrophied, but my boys make me look like a pro star.  Connor can nearly get the ball up to the basket, Rowen just throws the ball randomly, and Trevor thinks hitting the post makes his shot a "close one."  Today, a neighbor child came over with his football as well, and so I found myself juggling a football and basketball as I seemed to be the boys' favorite target.

I have also liked our walks and time outside as I've been seeing more of my neighbors these past few days than I have almost the entire time that we have lived here.  I truly did not realize how much my extra work was isolating me from ... well ... everything.  It is clear that I need to get us all out even more often.

My wife's brother has been visiting from Oregon for the past month and is about to fly back tomorrow morning.  During this time, he has been staying with my wife's sister and her family.  While there, he has been building a treehouse for their oldest child.  Without having a tree big enough, they chose to build the treehouse in a small group of trees, using the biggest two as the main supports.  He used a special type of support that allows the trees to move back and forth without moving the treehouse itself.

The treehouse is over ten feet off the ground, with a deck that goes around half of it and an observation platform on the roof.  The interior is like a little office with a both a large and small window, a solid door, and a small attic.  It reminds me of the writing gazebo that I wrote about earlier.  It would be an ideal place to get away from everything and spend time with thoughts and dreams.

I find myself envying my niece's get-away.  I had always wanted a treehouse while I was growing up.  Now as an adult I find myself wanting one even more.

My shoulders are sore.

Growing up, I loved spending time hanging from trees, running obstacle courses in my yard, and jumping around playground equipment.  I climbed up the outside of spiral (actually helical, but what's in a name?) slides, dangled from the outside railings around my grandparents' deck, and used any narrow flat surface as a balance beam.  By the time I was in middle school, I felt that there wasn't anything that I couldn't do.  

Today, the closest that I get to the same feeling is when playing Assassin's Creed.  There is a middle-school portion of my brain that believes the actions of Altair, Ezio, Connor, and Edward are realistic, and that (with mild practice) I would be capable of doing the same things.

On Tuesday, I watched as my youngest child had similar thoughts while playing on various playground equipment at both Ella Sharp Park and the St. Mary's school parking lot.  Watching him play with enthusiasm (and still some caution in higher locations), filled me with nostalgia.  One set of monkey bars was built sturdily enough to hold my weight, so I dangled from them for a few moments, quickly coming to the realization that I could not even pull myself up half way to a chin up, let alone swing from one bar to the other.  In my mind, I remembered being able to pull myself up and flip over to the top of the bars.

It seemed so tantalizingly close, but instead I think I might have pulled something.

I'm not much for sports.  I like playing them and enjoy watching them is someone I know is playing, but I'm not much for watching professional teams.  I don't dislike watching them, I just prefer to spend my limited time doing other things.  Yet when I head the news that Jackson might be building a stadium for a minor league time, my interest was piqued.

There is something that I like about baseball.  The deliberateness, the pacing, the way every pitch can have so many variable outcomes despite the relatively small strike zone, the fans, the sounds, even the food all give me a feeling unique to this type of event.  Unfortunately, the major leagues have become an exorbitant luxury.  Even with free tickets, the costs of the food alone make the game less enjoyable.  Add this the fact that the only seats that I can afford are so high above the action that I would be better off watching the game on television, if I cared enough about the teams to watch it ... which I don't. 

But a home team ... that's a different story.  My family once got tickets to the box seats for a minor league game and immensely enjoyed the experience (I was not able to attend).  With a team in Jackson (which I hope would be called the Jailbirds), I would be sorely tempted to get season tickets.  To give me an excuse to get out, let life slow down, and enjoy time watching a game with my family.

Who knows if or when this idea might come to fruition, but I like the idea.  And if I, a person who is "not much for sports," am excited about the idea, I can only guess how many other people would be interested.

We went to the Renaissance Festival in Holly, Michigan, as is our annual tradition (aside from my years in Alaska, I have gone every year since 1990).  We went with Janelle's brother (who is only in town until next week) and sister (and her family).  Despite a dire weather forecast, no storms (let alone major ones) marred our visit.  Here's the quick run-down:

A Zucchini Brother is back.  While still one of my favorite shows, his final act just seems desperate.

Ded Bob is still funny.  It's been a few years since I've watched the show, but although his voice seems slightly different and his "dummy" is considerably smaller than before, the old act still holds a massive audience.

One Step Further, the show that proceeded Ded Bob, was pretty entertaining, especially the "wall of jorgoling."  Some of their pop references went over my head; I feel old.

Prices are getting even higher: $2 pickles, $7 turkey legs, $6 bag of kettle corn (which I did not purchase) and $3 for a 1/4 pound of fudge (which I also didn't get).

Trevor bought a wooden sword to replace the one we bought him last year that he then broke by trying to smash ice with it.  I bought the other two boys wooden swords.  This was Rowen's first, and the one Connor wanted just looked cool to me.

We brought canteen backpacks that only hold about two water bottles worth of water but were well worth bringing due to their convenience.

My want list from the festival: a cool (in more than one way) hat, a leather (brown?) pirate overcoat, sturdy pirate-ish boots, comfortable pirate pants (are you sensing a theme?), and a new shirt (although the one Jenni made still works pretty well).  I like my current garb, and I really cant justify getting another outfit that I only wear one day out of the year, but I have been wearing it for about 15 years.  Still, see the note about higher prices ...

Yesterday, I got home later than I expected from work.  I was getting school stuff done (more than I expected, but not as much as I wanted) while my carpool partner was sitting on an interview team.  I arrived home a little before 6pm, ate dinner, and then had company over until 10pm (we played Carcassonne with two expansions).  I turned on my computer to write a post (for which I had an idea that I have since lost), saw that my brother was online and then played Starcraft and worked on logic puzzles until about midnight.

In short, it was a good day.

I have gotten spoiled ... well, more spoiled.  Earlier this year the toilet seat which we had used since soon after buying our house finally cracked and had to be replaced.  As long as I was replacing one, I decided to replace the one in the kids' bathroom since they were complaining about the current one anyway.  For them, since Rowen was in potty-training, I got a more expensive seat that included a built-in potty chair (which he hardly ever used since he insisted on using the "big" seat) and a "no-slam" lid.  Considering the abuse my children put their toilet through, I felt the no-slam feature was a good investment.

A few months later, the cheaper seat which we purchased for our own toilet cracked (please, don't comment).  While some might make jokes about my weight, the culprits included the seat itself, which was not the most sturdy to begin with, and a young child or two who were slamming the lid.  Despite my wife's concern about the cost, I again went with a no-slam lid and a higher quality seat.  Now, I haven't had the chance to use it during cold months, but thus far it is the best toilet seat that I've used.

There is, however, one small problem.  I am in the habit of shutting the lid before I flush, a habit I developed after watching demonstrations of how much fecal material ends up on bathroom ceilings if the lid is up.  Because the lid is "no-slam" (and because I am a bit impatient), I have to use a little more force to get the seat to a spot where I am comfortable flushing.  This does not cause any real difficulty while I use the toilets in my house.  Unfortunately, few other places have no-slam lids, and I now find myself using more force than necessary (or at least not being as cautious) when closing other toilet lids.  I have become a toilet-lid-slammer.

I am guessing that this is why my cheap toilet seat took so much abuse in such a short period of time; the boys were used to the no-slam lid on their toilet and had forgotten that we didn't have one on ours.  I now have to give myself a mental reminder when I go to other people's bathrooms that I need to be careful when closing their toilet seats.  I think that I'm getting better about it, but I still have lapses.  I now find myself wishing that everyone got the no-slam lids.

Ah, first world problems ...

For the first time in over eight years, I will not be teaching a class at Baker College of Jackson in a fall semester.  With my wife's broadening schedule and some changes in my school schedule this year, it was not practical to teach an evening class, and due to lower student enrollment, they are not offering the Saturday classes that I used to teach.

It did not fully hit me until I sent the email declining a class this fall, but I have been at Baker for quite a while now.  I have been teaching classes there nearly every term since only two months after we moved to Jackson.  I have been teaching there since almost a year before Connor was born, let alone Rowen.  When I first started working there, George W. Bush was still President, Jennifer Granholm was in her first term as Governor of Michigan, we had not hit the "great recession," and the first iPhone had not yet been introduced.

I am concerned about how this will affect our overall finances, but I hope that I will see an improvement in my health during this reprieve.  Last year at this time, I was teaching two classes (although one was independent study).  The issue with teaching extra classes during the school year isn't just the class time, but the number of hours that I spend every week preparing for class and grading assignments.  During weeks when papers are due, I often lose the entire weekend.

One way or another, this fall is going to be different than any other fall semester than I've had at Lincoln.  I hope that it works out for the best.

In today's Gospel reading, Jesus tells His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem to suffer, die, and rise again.  Peter wishes that no such thing would happen and Jesus rebukes him saying, "Get behind me, Satan!"  While Jesus does not want to suffer, He knows that it must be done for the salvation of the world.  Without realizing it, Peter is tempting Jesus to stray from His most holy path.

We, too, are often tempted from what we know we need to do by friends and family who have the best of intentions.  While we probably shouldn't call them "Satan," we need to recognize when these distractions are keeping us from being the best possible versions of ourselves.  This doesn't mean that we should completely ignore friends and family, or other diversions, just that we should not use them as an excuse to not accomplish that which we know must be done.

As a practiced procrastinator, I know that I struggle with this problem regularly.  Just look at how much writing I've completed this summer (not counting blogs and some minor school-preparation, the total is three paragraphs).  I have had a great summer even if I have little to show for it.  I'm not going to beat myself up over what I haven't done, but I need to put my failings behind me and move forward.

While were in the middle of watching a movie, Connor told us that the moon was purple, and that we needed to lock the windows and doors because the "blood moon" meant that the zombies were coming.  He wasn't being serious, but was making a reference to the video game Terraria that has especially hooked Trevor.  Janelle went outside to see what Connor was talking about and, after a minute, asked for me to join her.

We didn't see the "blood moon," but the clouds near the sunset reflected a brilliant crimson.  We were standing on the deck, watching the red sky, and for a moment everything seemed ... right.  I looked around our tiny back yard that now seemed to glow in the way that nature does at twilight.  All of the colors seemed deeper.  I looked back into our house through the back windows and screen door, and the sight was one of comfort and welcoming.

That was the feeling I had at that moment: contentment.  Sure there are things that I would like to change, or add, or even do completely differently, but my life is a good one.  This evening, under the red sky, I recognized that fact.  And while the perfection of the moment was fleeting, and mosquitos ended some of the enchantment, it was a good feeling to have.