Seeing RED...

Yessir. Traded the Ninjette and a little cash for this baby yesterday. It's much better. To say the least.

with Spring Break comes...

prolific blogging!

While it is technically my break time, I am still going in to work today to do some things on the set for To Kill a Mockingbird. It is a monster, but it's my monster, so it must be dealt with. I'm pretty proud of the design and really proud of my kids for being able to step up and do a good job building it. It's just going to take some extra effort to get it done. I'll have photos soon.

Speaking of photos, I've got a shitload of pictures I need to take of recent happenings. I've got a motorcycle and a new tattoo that I've been meaning to photograph for ages, but just haven't made the time. It's just about warm enough now to ride around comfortably and that makes me endlessly happy. Motorcycles are such a superior form of transportation that I am amazed that I've lived without one for the last 13 years. Seventy miles to the gallon too, baby! Can't wait to put some miles in the saddle this summer. And, please don't leave comments like "You be careful!". Duh. I'm 38 and I've taken the Motorcycle Safety Foundation course. I'm being careful. I like life and am not addicted to speed. I wear ATG,ATT (all the gear, all the time). Acceptible risk only. No worries.

More soon...

The Kindness of Strangers...

I've been meaning to write about this for a month now...

At the end of February, I was driving home from Chapel Hill to Durham when the 4Runner decided to call it quits in a permanent, never to be started again, kind of way. I was on 15/501 just before the Hwy 40 entrance which is about 20 miles from home and 6 miles back to Chapel Hill. No phone. 22 degrees. 10:15 at night on a Sunday. Suck!

So, I put my thumb out in the direction of Chapel Hill with thoughts of making it back to the only all night gas station and calling AAA from there. Twenty minutes later, having been passed by approximately 200 cars, I'm freezing, pissed and ready to walk. I mean, come on people, I'm standing by a car in a ditch with it's hazards on. Obviously I'm legit. But, alas, the milk of human kindness does not flow in Chapel Hill at ten o'clock on Sundays. Or so I thought. Just as I start walking, a minivan pulls to the side of the road and the passenger door opens. It's a couple with their toddler asleep in the back seat and they offer to give me a ride to Chapel Hill, so I climb in next to the sleeping child and we're off. Two hours and a $24 towing bill later, I get home. Thank you kind family.

But here's the thing that blew me away. The family was African American. I had been passed by two hundred white people who chose to look the other way and then I was rescued by a family who had the least reason to trust me out of any of them. In fact, I am humbled by their trust and generosity. There are a lot of horror stories, fear, litigation and racism that stacks the deck against us helping a fellow human being these days and it takes guts to ignore all that and just do the right thing. So, kind family, I just wanted you to know that, in picking me up, you not only saved me a long chilly walk, but also restored a small bit of my faith in humanity. Thanks again. I'll try to pay it forward.

No more school...

...want to ride motorcycle.

Ground Zero

Oh shit, it’s been a long time. Writing this is probably like putting a message in a bottle. All the folks who were keeping the home fires burning have, long ago, thrown sand on the blaze and gone to take a well deserved nap. And who could blame them? The Oaklanders, it must have seemed, have become Durhamites and have forsaken all communication with the outside world. Almost true, we must admit. Although, not out of some selfish, premeditated plan to embark on the inexorable path to our hermitage, but rather because we simply have no fucking time. We are busy people, doing busy things.

I, as you know, became a high school teacher this year and have been learning interesting things about myself and others ever since. Mainly, that people suck. Specifically, as parents. And, it is absolutely astounding, just how badly. In my previous life as Bohemian dance teacher and ersatz Ukuleleist, I was in control of my movements in and out of the layers of social strata. I moved about freely and as I wished, often skimming along the top of regular “society”, but never holding my breath and diving underneath to see how the other fish were behaving. Well, it turns out that there are some damned ugly fish down there and they’ve got some damned ugly minnows with ‘em.

My first semester was, I don’t know. There’s not a word for it. I felt like the guy you see on the news who is watering his roof with a garden hose while a wildfire is raging ten feet from his house. He knows it’s futile. But what if it’s not? Unlike that guy, who will know, in a very short time, what the result of his efforts will be, I may never know. These kids come in every day, some haven’t eaten in awhile, some are on the wrong prescription or dosage, some are jaded, some angry, some are gay and don’t know it yet but the pain is already evident on their faces, and some are just sad and don’t know why. Do I make a difference in their lives? Probably. Is it enough? Probably not.

A student of mine was shot to death on Christmas Eve in the parking lot of our local mall. He was sixteen years old. He was standing up for his sister who was being harassed by some older boys and one of them decided that this act was reason enough to end his life. He was a sweet kid, my student. He wasn’t a great student, but he had a great personality and a ready smile and definitely deserved a chance at life. When something like this happens, you begin to replay every conversation and interaction you had with this person. Wondering if you left anything unsaid that, potentially, could have saved his life. Probably not, but the experience has certainly colored every interaction I’ve had with my kids since then.

Yep, ground zero is an interesting place to hang out in. I’ll tell you more about it later.