The Blood Begins To Boil

Today could very easily be one of those days where my angst level is sky high, where my blood is boiling and I make it through my day by seething through it. It could easily be the type of day where my head hurts behind my eyes and I can feel my pulse in my temples. There are lots of things contributing to my going spasmoidal today, but so far I have no let them win. I am trying to be more positive in my life outlook, not indifferent mind you, just more positive. I must have made a breakthrough, because a few weeks ago a day like this would have set me off big-time.

My day started innocently enough. Kim had The Man Zachary up as usual, and I was greeted by his smiling face when it was my turn to get moving. I got out of bed without a lot of trouble, which is not usually the case - especially on a Monday. Got shaved and showered, knew what I was wearing to work and my morning was lining up nicely. Then, a hairball-induced toilet overflow began to turn the tide of my happy morning. After cleaning up the bathroom I had a very annoyed little guy on my hands, as Zachary did NOT want to be in his bouncer seat as I got myself ready to go to work. Apparently The Man has learned how to get himself out of places he prefers not to be. He is now resorting to arching his back and twisting to the side to scooch himself forward. This is a dangerous development, as the first time I noticed it he was in his swing, un-strapped. Mental note - the maintenance level of The Man Zachary has gone up a couple of notches.

Got myself pulled together and took Zachary next door to Casa De Simpson, where the just recently cantankerous Zachary began to beam a huge smile as soon as he saw Dan. This depressed me a bit, but I shook it off as I got in my car to navigate through the 1/4-mile visibility fog on my way to work. I didn't even make it off my street before I almost lost my mind on a complete mutant idiot neighbor who not only almost took out three kids who were waiting for their school bus as she whipped around the corner, but almost hit me head-on as she swerved to avoid the youths. I did get mildly upset by this, but I was not going to let my week start out all keyed up. I haven't been a great person to be around lately, and I was determined to keep making an effort to be more pleasant.

My work day began with my boss having an appointment that would delay our sit-down concerning my potential raise (a conversation that is an anxiety-attack waiting to happen in and of itself), and his calling me from the road to tell me that the 16-page rate set sheet that I spent all of Friday doing would need to be re-done due to the accountant giving him the wrong numbers. Fun, fun, fun!About a quarter of the way through the re-do, Kim emails me to tell me that one of the kids from her school and their little sister were badly injured in a house fire that was most likely set by their father in what is being theorized as a murder-suicide. Nice.

Child abuse is a topic that is near and dear to my heart. Stories about kids that have to suffer because of their mutant retard parents break my heart - and set me off. Apparently, the guy chickened out after setting the fire, left the girls locked in their bedroom to die, ran from the burning house only to be struck by a responding fire truck. The mutant lived, apparently. The kids are in intensive care in the burn ward of a hospital in Chester.

I was reminded this morning about a story in the current issue of Rolling Stone (http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/9138154/the_deficit_lie) which tells of the recent "deficit reduction" bill passed by the scumbag Republicans which was in truth a thinly-veiled tax cut for the rich which comes solely at the expense of the poor and working class. Instead of me ranting and raving about, I would invite you to click the above link and read the article for yourself. Regardless of your political bend, it is bound to enlighten you.

So, here I am, with a plethora of excuses to be all kinds of pissed off and tense, taking things in stride for a change. It is not that I do not care, nor am I blowing any of these things off. I am trying to find the silver lining in things so that I can avoid blowing a gasket - and subsequently not be there for my wife and son. It's not a bad thing that my son is happy to see the babysitters in the morning or that he belly-laughs only for his Gramma. The lady that almost killed three children and hit me head-on this morning did not, and maybe the near-miss will motivate her to drive a little more carefully. Having to re-do a pain-in-the-butt assignment stunk, but he trusted me with he project in the first place, so there is some job security there. There is no silver lining with the Republicans, we can just only pray that they don't destroy the planet or life for all citizens in the lower tax brackets before changes can be made. The man who tried to kill himself and his daughters did not succeed, and if there is any justice for these kids, they will recover and be placed in homes where they will be safe and cared for (there are allegations of abuse of the girls at the hands of older stepbrothers).

On even more of a positive note, I found some music over the weekend that I had been looking for for ages. This always brightens my mood. I got to see very good friends Fran and Joanne over the weekend at their home in King of Prussia, and I read a great article that gives me some reason for optimism on the global preservation front (http://money.cnn.com/magazines/fortune/fortune_archive/2006/02/06/8367959/index.htm?cnn=yes). Be sure to check this story out, especially if you are tired of feeling violated every time you put gas in your car.

There is hope. There are reasons to be optimistic even when it seems like the fates are lining up on purpose to try and get you to pull out your hair. How bad can the world be today when the biggest story is that two journalists were injured while covering the occupation in Iraq? So, if you are a prayer, please keep the little girls who were burned in your prayers. Check out the links above and let me know what you think. Or better yet, let your Congressperson know what you think.

[Currently Listening: Jimmy Cliff – “No Justice”]

Splitting Hairs, Splitting Pants

It is very important that I find a new place to get my hair cut. I must find a decent barber and I need to find one soon. I have been going to a fairly popular chain since I took my current job, and most of the people who cut hair there are pretty good. However there is one lady there who the regulars tend to avoid, yet one who I continue to give chances to regardless of how many times she scalps me. The haircut I request is a fairly standard one. A number 2 clip on the sides and back, and take enough off of the top to shorten it, but leave enough so I can flip the front. For some reason this lady cannot get the front right. She clips away until I am left looking not unlike the “Private Pyle” character from Full Metal Jacket. I am too heavy to have hair this short, and it takes a couple weeks for me to recover. I am going back to my old philosophy – you must be at least partially Italian, or very hot, to cut my hair. I am ugly enough without needing any extra help.

My visit to the cardiologist yesterday afternoon went well on the news front, but was fraught with some near-terminal embarrassment. I was able to overcome the shame of sitting in the exam room for an extended period of time with my shirt off (the Vin-Man’s torso is not easy on the eyes, as I have been unable to see my abs since 1993…). Normally, belly overhang or no, nurses tend to be very nice to me – I try to be friendly and engaging with people that might have to stick me with needles. The nurse yesterday was very sweet when she led me to the exam room, and in the initial stages of taking my blood pressure. Then, she got kind of nervous and short with me. I wasn’t sure what happened, but I was certain at the time that it had to do with the trauma of being up close and personal with male stretch marks and a bottonless pit "innie". It wasn’t until she finished administering my EKG that I looked down to find that I had a complete split in the right front crotchal region of my pants. Nice. No way to hide it either. I felt like a total hobo. I tried to play it off to the doctor, but there was no way to undo the out-of-control fat guy first impression at this doctor’s office.

The news I got was fairly encouraging. My blood pressure is kind of high, but the doc said that would correct itself with more exercise. He said he did not feel that I had any cardiac issues to be overly concerned about, but that we would do an echo stress test in early February just to be sure. He also suggested that I look into some better pants. In my defense, the pants started to fray before Christmas. They had a weird hem to them that lent itself to the split. I have other colors of the same style and they fit fine. I got another pair of black khakis for my birthday, and the frayed ones were to be fixed – and were set aside. Problem is, on a bleary-eyed Monday morning, I was not paying close enough attention to what I was putting on. As I discovered the source of the nurse’s unease, my mind started racing back to the meetings I sat in on yesterday, one of which was with the marketing team hired by our company to strengthen our brand in the industry. None of the guys in the office noticed the pants, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the marketing people didn’t either.

[Currently Listening: Oaktown 357 – “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah”]

Good To Be Remembered

I am sitting here on a dreary Monday morning with a ton going on. This should prove to be a most interesting week. Work has gotten a lot busier for me since the boss has given me more responsibilities. I plan to finally have the long-needed sit-down with my parents in an effort to make them start seeing the big picture of what the future may hold for them. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon with the cardiologist that I have been putting off for almost two years. A new basketball season is starting Thursday night - which I am excited about because for the first time since I started playing in this league around 3 years ago, I had a measure of control over who is on the roster. And lastly, I am going to email my boss to see about a raise. This has me the most nervous of all of the week's tasks, as I am trying to figure out how to word my request properly.

The weekend was mostly uneventful, except for on Saturday afternoon - which was the memorial service for the Rev. Dick Sutton. Kim came with me, which was nice since she had never met Dick or most of the people I had worked with at the Baptists (ABC). When we arrived, I was happy to see that a lot of people turned out to pay their respects to Dick. As I said in a previous entry, he was one of the greatest people I had ever been around. As the service progressed, I found myself getting slightly nervous as I looked around the sanctuary. A lot of people that I had worked with at ABC were there, and in a sign that I am truly getting old, I was worried that I had forgotten a few of their names. With Kim in tow, I would have to introduce her to some of these people, and I was embarrassed by my inability to recall people's names that I had worked with for approximately three years. It made me feel really good when almost everyone I had worked with back then stopped to greet me and congratulate me on the baby. I really missed a lot of the people I used to work with, so it was definitely a blessing to get to see everyone again, albeit while wishing it was under better circumstances. It was slightly embrassing to receive that much attention at what was supposed to be a somber occasion - and one that I was not directly involved in. I was already beating myself up for not getting the letter I was writing (and pictures of the baby) to Dick and Carol to before Dick's passing. When word of Dick's illness spread, it was reported that he would have around 6 months to live. I started the letter right away but figured I had time to finish it and get it out the door. I dilly-dallied some as I obsessed over how to word certain things, and while I delayed, Dick's last 6 months turned into three weeks. The cancer was that quick. I was very angry and wholly embarrassed by my failure to contact the Suttons during their time of trial. Dick was always very much in tune with my emotional state while we worked together. He always seemed to know the perfect day to suggest we get out of the office for lunch and to talk, and was always such a huge help to me during times when I felt like I was losing it in the office. While in the receiving line, I got to meet Dick's son Nathan. I told him that I believed his father to be a great man, and he said something to me that struck me like a lightning bolt. He told me that his dad spoke of me to him, and that he was very fond of me. I am not sure why this hit me so hard. I think one of the reasons I delayed with sending the letter was because I thought that maybe I was giving our friendship too much credit. And that while he was in agony, in his last days, that the last thing he would want to waste time on was a letter from me. It meant the world to me that Carol thanked me for coming. She did not have to thank me, I should have begged her forgiveness for being persona non grata. I still wish that I got the letter to him in time, but I know that he is somewhere now with a vantage point from which he can see everything that is going on with me, and I am just thankful that his pain is ended. Dick Sutton was a great man, and a good person. No one should have to suffer the way he did at the end, but someone who has touched as many people as he has should be doubly spared that fate. I'll never forget Dick, and I pray that I can be half the man he was, and have at least a fraction of the positive impact on people that he did. If I can do that, then I will know that I led a decent life.

As I get closer and closer to this appointment this afternoon I get more and more worried. My family doc tried to get me to go to the cardiologist two years ago. I totally flaked out. The chest pain I was having was from muscle spasms in my back related to my second car accident of '04. That being said, my cholesterol was high, my blood pressure was borderline-high, and my Dad who weighs 120 pounds LESS than I do has had serious heart issues. The way I ate throughout my 20s does not help my cause for leading a long life. In fact, it is a minor miracle that I haven't had a heart attack given that I ate fast food in LARGE quantities for at least 2 meals a day and usually 3 from the time I was 19 until I was 28 or so. Plus, I was drinking ludicrious amounts of beer almost every night on top of the gluttonous eating. I am very afraid of what the doctors might find. But, I totally did this to myself. The fact of the matter is I could stand to lose around 40 pounds, and I need to start on it sooner rather than later. I lived so much of my life not really caring if I lived or died, not suicidal per se - just not caring, and now that I have things to live for - my fear is that I might have already done irreparable damage. I guess it's time to face the music.

[Currently Listening: Black Sheep - "The Choice Is Yours"]

My Dad

I cannot for the life of me remember a worse case of writer’s block than the one I have been suffering from all week long. A lot has happened since my last entry, but I have been completely unable to get my thoughts about any of it out in anything resembling a coherent fashion. In no particular order: I had to travel to North Philadelphia to undergo an independent medical exam for my car accident from January of ’04, I received word that the Rev. Dick Sutton succumbed in his battle against cancer (see previous blog entries), I attended the beef and beer fundraiser (Sunday afternoon) for my friend Keadren’s fiancé who passed away in December, and my father has been hospitalized since Tuesday with heart attack symptoms. He underwent catheterization surgery late Thursday afternoon and more tests are scheduled for today. Please keep my Dad in your prayers.

I have been trying to write this blog for the better part of a week. With all of the reports of people I know getting sick and/or dying, it has my mind reeling. You see, I have had a fear for as long as I can remember - that once I started to hold on a little more tightly to life, that I would die. Whether it be getting sick or having a horrible car accident, I have just had this feeling in my gut that once things started to go well for me it would spell the end of my time here on terra firma. This fear has caused me to become a bit of an annoying hypochondriac. My wife is ready to begin spousally abusing me over my constant vocal worrying over every headache as the onset of a brain tumor. My blog WAS going to be about how I would like to be remembered by my friends should something happen to me. However, I cannot seem to wrap my mind around writing it in such a way that is not too morbid-sounding. Every time I read over it I feel that it sounds too crybaby-ish. So, today I will write about my Dad – one of the most confusing people that I have ever encountered in my life.

The last handful of years have seen the final stages of my Dad’s transformation from one of the hardest working people I have ever known into an almost completely defeated man. Some people in the extended family have called my Dad “lazy”, but it is not an accurate description of a man who once worked 8-10 hours a day in a North Philadelphia sweat shop and then performed home-improvement contracting jobs at night and on the weekends. It is a description that does not properly encapsulate a person who came to this country from Torre Annunziatta, Italy with a year of architectural college under his belt and a job offer from a prominent German building firm – who was forced to take a menial job to help his family and never found a way back into the field he was so passionate about.

I am thankful to have had a Dad of European origin. I am thankful for his contributions towards my being a free thinker. I wish he spent more time doing things with us when we were little, and I wish he would have stepped in between the four of us and our Mom, who was a bit of a nutter when we were growing up. I wish he didn’t see reasoning with my Mom as such a lost cause – and I wish he didn’t retreat to his room almost every night after dinner. I am thankful for the catches we used to have in front of our house in Darby – where I would throw simulated games with him calling balls and strikes for me. I am thankful for the few times he came to watch me play little league in 4th and 5th grades, and I wish he made more of an effort to come see me play. I wish my Dad wasn’t so heavy-handed with us. I wish my Dad would have had more patience for being around little kids. I wish we didn’t have to flinch every time we walked near him or my Mom. I am thankful for the times he and I had together in the early mornings when I was in middle school – I attended the Masterman School at 17th and Spring Garden and had to wake up well before dawn to get ready to take Septa from Overbrook into downtown. I still hold a grudge against my Dad for not teaching me Italian. I wish my Dad was as nice to his family as we was to everyone else he encountered – I cannot tell you how upset it used to make me when people would say “you are SO lucky to have Sal as your Dad!”. I remember wanting to scream at them at the top of my lungs – “he isn’t like this at home!”. I used to love watching World Cup soccer games with my Dad. We rooted like crazy for Italy every four years – they won it all in 1982, and we watched helplessly as they were seemingly eliminated on penalty kicks every Cup thereafter. My Dad loved teaching me geography as a kid. I used to love watching him beam at me when I would pass his quizzes by pointing out different countries in the atlas. I wish my Dad would have given me some kind of guidance – ANY kind of guidance as far as what adult life would hold for me. I am thankful that my Dad taught me the importance of thinking for myself, and to not swallow whole the government propaganda machine. I wish my Dad (and Mom) did more to focus the four of us on our educations – as it is, I am the only one of the kids to graduate high school and I needed 5 years to do it.

Nowadays, I just find myself wishing that my parents had even the most minute ability to plan ahead. My Dad has been out of work for a couple of months. My parents have no life insurance. They have no will. They are in the process of adopting my niece (which is an incredible thing for them to do), but have nothing in place to secure their future, or hers. My Dad has gotten weird as he has gotten older. They both smoke like chimneys and I highly doubt that even this second heart episode will lead him to quit. My parents are such simple people, and they completely fail to grasp the big picture. They live day-to-day, cigarette-to-cigarette. It saddens me a great deal and adds a ridiculous amount of stress to my life. Sometimes I feel as though I care about their futures and well-being more than they do. That being said, my Mom and Dad have been great around the times of my wedding and when The Man Zachary was born – my Dad making sure he videotaped everything he could.My Dad has been worn down by the system – and by poor decisions he has made along the way. After being burned (literally) in a workplace accident and being screwed out of any workmans’ comp benefits he swore he would never work for anyone else again. After he healed, he began successfully contracting on his own and ran a successful pool hall in the space under his house in Philly. As the neighborhood deteriorated, so did the businesses – and his drive.

My Dad has maddening swings from thoughtful and caring to completely irresponsible. He is intelligent, yet makes some of the poorest decisions a man can make. But, he is my Dad…and if I were to lose him now it would hurt. There is still a lot that I would like to do with him, most notably traveling to Italy with him so he can show me his hometown. It’s no more than a pipe dream for me right now, but if I ever had the means it would be a dream trip for me – something I have wanted to do since I was a small child. For that to happen though, I will continue to harp on my Dad to start making better decisions – and to start taking better care of himself. I have no doubt that it will continue to be an uphill climb. But, I love my Dad - and where a lot of people in my position would just leave their parents to it, my conscience will not let me. So, wish me luck in trying to get through to him.

[Currently Listening: I Dik Dik – “Viaggio Di Un Poeta”]

My Three-Tiered Model of Faith

As I sit here trying to recover from a most hectic weekend filled with all kinds of running around mostly related to The Man Zachary’s baptism, I am reminded of a handful of religion and faith-based conversations that I have had over the past few years – some fairly recently. As anyone who has ever been around me knows, I am a Christian – but a far cry from a holy roller.

I have been blessed throughout my life with a lot of friends. I have had friends from almost every type of background – whether it be ethnic/racial, socio-economic or religious. As far as the latter goes, I have had friends that were Jewish, Muslim, Scientologist, Buddhist, Hindu, agnostic and a number of hard-core atheists. However, most of my friends have been of Christian denominational backgrounds. To lump all of these people into one group does not do them justice, as there are Catholics, Presbyterians, Baptists, etc. – with enough variations to make your head spin. My wife is Episcopalian, and I agreed to Zachary being baptized in the church she grew up in. We were married there, and it is where we go when we are able to scrape ourselves out of bed to attend worship on Sunday mornings.

It was important to me that we keep the baptism low-key. It was mostly a family affair, as I believe that religious events like this should not be an excuse to throw a party and impose upon everyone you know - especially right after the holidays when most people are just now trying to assess the damage brought on by gift-giving and such. I did not want an egregiously-large event like some that I have been to. I prefer to keep things like this relatively small. We had a nice brunch at my Mom-In-Law’s house after the service (more on that later), and it was very nice.

That being said, the weekend was quite nutty as far as running errands and such went. We had to be at the church on Saturday morning at 9am for instruction and a quick walk-through. The priest that met with us was very nice, and he softened my stance on a couple of issues (i.e. why baptism should be celebrated, and why infant baptism is an ok thing). I got to spend the day with El Padrino Numero Uno Johnnie S., and while it was great to spend some time with him, we did our catching up while running lots of errands.

We had to be at the church on Sunday at 8:30am. Which, in the scheme of things is not all that early, but with the baby waking up at 6am on both Saturday and Sunday, I was struggling a bit. In the Episcopalian Church, baptisms are performed within the scope of the normal service, which is good, but definitely makes for a longer service. Yesterday also happened to be the Epiphany, so the Three Wise Men segment also tacked on a nice chunk of time. I have to give it to those that came out to celebrate with us - you are all true troopers. The service rang up a spectacular 1 hour 40 minute running time. Surprisingly, not only did the adults hold it together for the most part (we did have a couple in-service defections), but the kids in attendance did as well. It has been my experience that young kids lose it during church services – and in longer ones doubly so. The Man Zachary was an angel. Although, there was an emergency three-person pit stop and tire change when it was discovered that Zachary’s grunting and look of concentration was not him taking in the sights of the sanctuary, but was instead his dropping a hellacious deuce in his pants five minutes before we were expected at the baptismal fount. Kim and Jena got him all cleaned up as I held up his legs in the sanctuary lobby - and a priest-poop tragedy was miraculously averted. The only other setback to report occurred when Godmom Jena handed me some breath spray which I subsequently sprayed up my nose. This was most painful but being the trooper I am I was able to overcome the injuries sustained and make it through the ceremony. My pain tolerance is legendary, and I will note for the future that with breath spray aim is everything.

This brings me back to examining what I believe, why I believe it and the conversations I alluded to earlier. As I said before, I believe in God, and consider myself to be a Christian – meaning that I have accepted Jesus Christ as Lord, Savior and recognize Him as the Son of God. I have been asked a great many times why I feel this way, and I have narrowed it down to three main reasons: the first is spiritual, the second logical and the third scientific.

It has been written time and time again that it is by faith that we can get to know God. I believe this to be true because there is no purely factual evidence of His existence, which makes for an interesting conundrum. I went through a stretch during my adolescence where I was a die-hard atheist, from the time I was approximately 9 until I was 18. My conversion from Sunday-school-attending youth to complete skeptic was most abrupt. It happened after the following conversation between myself and one Pastor Hall, after a sermon in which he stated that God existed, always will exist and always has existed. I waited in line after church to ask the pastor how this could be. God existed – okay I believe that. God always will exist – again, I can handle that one too. God always has existed - this one made me raise an eyebrow as my logic circuits were overloading. I asked Pastor Hall my question: “Pastor Hall, I understand that God is and that He always will be. But doesn’t everything have to start?” Pastor Hall replied, “Vincent, you have to have faith”. I replied, “Pastor Hall, I DO have faith, but this makes no sense”. Pastor Hall replied, “You have to have faith”. I saw right away that he had no real answer for me, and that my being 9 years old meant that I was going to be blown off, so I simply nodded my head and walked away to go retrieve my kid brother from Sunday school. I never stepped foot in that church again.

As I have gotten older, I have come to grips that there are aspects of God’s existence (and of His supposed plan) that we either will not, or can not wrap our minds around. God might be an all-knowing all-encompassing deity that exists as a shroud of mist, or God may be a trans-dimensional being that created us for His amusement not unlike an ant hill, but I no longer let the lack of physical evidence or the lack of everything in the Bible making sense stop me from believing. I said before that I am a Christian, and this is significant because a simple belief in God does not a Christian make. Believing only in God and not Jesus would make you a much better candidate for Judaism. I believe that Jesus was indeed the Son of God. Or, if God is a super-powerful trans-dimensional alien being - a physical manifestation of that being here on Earth. The teachings of Jesus were wholly revolutionary. To do what He did in taking on the entire establishment of the time putting His life on the line at every turn to bring the world a message of hope, love and forgiveness, is truly incredible. I believe that someone with that type of drive, with that type of message HAD to be armed with a strength and conviction of the divine. I have been called a blasphemer by people in my college youth group for voicing the next step in my reasoning, but I will throw it out there as well - whether He was the Messiah or not, the world would be a MUCH better place if the people of this planet treated one another in accordance to the teachings of Jesus.

Are there times where I might find myself to be somewhat skeptical? Yes. There are. But this brings me to my next reason, which I consider logical. I look at my belief in God and my usually feeble attempts to lead a relatively good and moral life in what I feel is a most logical sense. This I find funny because it is “logic” that is used so gleefully by evangelical atheists as their sword of truth. My logic is simple, at least to me, and can be summed up in one question: What does it hurt?

Here is my 'What Does It Hurt' logic, broken down in an easy to understand form. Let’s say there is no God. You live a life guided by the tenets of the church of your choice. You put money in the collection plate, you pray, and in general you try to do the right thing. Now, you die. There is no God. So poof, your consciousness is blinked out of existence at the moment of the cessation of brain activity, and then - nothingness. What does this hurt? Well, you could argue that you might have wasted the offering plate money (which, if the church uses it for what it is supposed to, still went to a good cause) and the time you spent praying and worshipping (much more valuable), but you haven’t really hurt yourself any. No harm, no foul. However, let’s look at the OTHER side of the same coin. Let’s say there IS a God. You live your life conscience-free, doing whatever you want to whoever you want with your only consideration being the law of the land. You hurt people. You don’t care. You never feel the need to confess your sins because it’s all a bunch of B.S. Now, you die. Oops. There IS a God and He is not happy with you. Now, you are screwed, or at the very least you find yourself at the mercy of a God that you denied throughout your life. If the Old Testament is any indication, God does not take well to being denied.

The third reasoning for my beliefs is scientific in nature. The scientific method is not truly applicable, but for my intent and purpose I consider it to be scientific reasoning. The universe is very big, and extremely flawed. The Earth, being a part of the larger universe, also carries these characteristics. As far as we know, the Earth is the only chunk o’ stuff in the universe that supports life. So, it is on this one glob of celestial debris where everything went JUST RIGHT to allow for molecular structures to combine just so – to allow for liquids, solids, plant life and photosynthesis, animal life, human life and consciousness. Consciousness - this is my biggest scientific reason for believing in God. There is no true scientific explanation for human thought. You could argue that this might be the worst of God’s creations, but I digress. Atheist scientists will try to tell you that the emotions we experience as humans are mere physiological responses to chemical reactions of the brain. There may be some truth to these arguments, but what chemical reactions cause regret, sorrow, guilt, loyalty or love? I have heard about scientific studies that call “love” a physiological reaction of the brain. I have no doubt that lust or similar human reactions are chemical creations of our bodies. But the feeling that washes over me when my son smiles at me, when my wife holds me, when my friends are there for me in a time of need – these are not animalistic human responses. These are the things that separate human beings from the rest of the animal world. My abilities to reason, to know right from wrong, to be self aware, to scheme and plot revenge – these are some of the myriad parcels of what passes for proof that there is a God. Now, whether or not God is actually happy with what He has created - this I am somewhat afraid to find out. I also find myself wondering if Jesus looks back at what he endured for us over 2000 years and one Mel Gibson movie ago and feel that we were worth it? I worry that He might not. Not after all of the evil deeds men have perpetrated using His name and Church as their excuse throughout the annals of history.

I am far from suggesting that the current version of Christ's Church has it all right and figured out. The message of The Christ has been bastardized by generations of humans in power positions that have changed the message to fit their own agendas. While this is a huge topic for another day, some examples of this evil are the removal of entire parts of the Bible - for instance any and all mention of women in leadership positions in the early church. This is especially galling to me, and can still be evidenced today in denominations that do not allow female clergy, or ultra-right-wing Baptist churches that continue to repress the girls and women of their congregations by banning the wearing of pants or skirts that fall anywhere above the tops of their shoes. A very good friend of mine told me a story on Friday that shook me to the core. Her older brother, once one of my closest friends, has immersed himself in the ultra-fundamentalist church that the family has belonged to for many years. For a Christmas present last month, an aunt from Florida sent personalized CDs to his children with religious songs that mentioned the children by name. Apparently, the CDs have been shelved...BECAUSE OF THE BEAT.

I can understand that Christians are called to avoid worldy temptation, as are the members of other world religions. But I cannot help but think that a lot of the restrictions of these fundamentalists are put in place as elements of control. The leaders of these churches and religious sects prefer sheep to free thinkers. Like the Pharisees who persecuted Jesus, these religious leaders have control and power. Power corrupts, and these religious leaders will do and say anything to maintain it. Christian fundamentalists dissapoint me more than anyone, and here is my message to them: Jesus danced. Jesus feasted. Jesus accepted. Jesus did not make the water cleaner, Jesus turned the water into wine. Jesus wanted us to love one another as we would ourselves. Jesus wanted his message to be brought into the world like a beacon of light. There is nothing in the New Testament about sheltering the Church from the rest of the world, persecuting gays, repressing women or picking and choosing the parts of scripture that fit your needs while dismissing the rest. There sure as hell isn't anything in there about avoiding all music with a danceable beat! The message of the New Testament is ridiculously simple, and I pray that no matter who is right or wrong in their spiritual beliefs, that we all figure out a way to accept and love one another in the manner that Jesus intended - a message so important that He was willing to die in order to deliver it to the world. The world would be a much better place for it.

[Currently Listening: Norman Greenbaum - "Spirit In the Sky"]

Altitudinal Mediocrity?

I have been on a real positive kick the past few days. No matter how daunting the finances have looked, no matter how much heat was on me at work, I have been feeling pretty good about things. I have been making a conscious effort to bring optimism back into my life. Well, all of that was brought to an abrupt halt this morning at approximately 7:25am, at least temporarily, upon my bringing The Man Zachary next door to the neighbors for his daily watchin’.

Laurie met me at the door and shared with me a formula for calculating a baby’s adult height that she read in a renowned parenting magazine. She said that a good way to figure out how tall a baby will be is to take the difference in height between the parents, halve it, add that number to the mother’s height and add two inches for a boy, and subtract two for a girl. When applying this formula for my wife and I, it predicts that The Man Zachary will be approximately…5’11 and a half. FIVE ELEVEN AND A HALF!!!

You know that song, the oldie by Randy Newman that goes “short people got no reason”? Well, I wouldn’t know. I have never been short. Ok, I was short at one time but I have no real recollection what it was like. I am glad about this, because being tall has been very good to me. Like most tall people, I had some awkward stages during growth spurts and such, and the occasional adolescent growing pains in my shins and knees, but all-in-all being one of the tallest kids in school was pretty darned nice. As I got older, I noticed that I had a physical confidence that a lot of my friends did not. The ability to loom over people and to look down at them while looking them in the eye has its advantages. I have been told by many people throughout the last 15 years of my life or so that I have presented a commanding presence. Others have told me that I make them feel safe when we are out and about. I attribute a lot of this to my height. Being 6’5 has no drawbacks other than lack of legroom. I will admit that on cross-country flights in coach, I envy the wee people.

Studies published in The Economist state that shorter people suffer in lots of areas, most notably in the areas of earning potential, political viability and being able to reach things on the top shelf. Ok, the last one I just threw in there but it is no less true. So far, The Man Zachary is in the 97th percentile for weight, 90th for head size (he has a yooj melon) and…80th for length. I should have seen that stat two weeks ago as a sign. He is stout, for sure. But it looks like he is going to be a linebacker instead of the quarterback. And my dreams of unleashing the next Mark Eaton, or even the next Matt Harpring, on an unexpecting Chester County high school hoops landscape are now dashed. All of my post play knowledge will have to be heaped onto his tall friends, and now I will have to lean on Jimmy S. to teach him the guard-play skills that he will need to succeed. I never envisioned my progeny to be point guards – and with guards getting bigger every year, perhaps even backup point guards. I had a game plan in place for how I was going to raise a tall, athletic child.

During Kim’s pregnancy I found myself praying for a healthy child. Once we knew the baby was going to be a boy, I found myself selfishly fantasizing that he would take after me. I have always wondered what I’d have been capable of with parents that were supportive and nurturing. Mind you, I would never be one of those psycho parents living vicariously through their kids – you know the ones, the little league parents who admonish their children for striking out, who scream at umpires and flip out on coaches. But I would love the opportunity to raise a kid with my physical characteristics and mental makeup to see what he would be capable of.

Now, in place of speeches and lessons on not just relying on size to get by and the evils of bullying - there will be speeches about what you can achieve if you try harder than the tall people and clichéd adages about how it’s not the size of the man that counts but the size of his heart. The Man Zachary is healthy and I am extremely thankful to God for that. Plus, they say that every cloud has a silver lining. Kim and I will be much more capable of keeping him in clothes...

[Currently Listening: The Ramones – "It’s Gonna Be Alright"]

Five Funniest Movies

I just got this bulletin-thing on MySpace asking me to post my list of the 5 funniest movies of all time. Maybe I put too much thought into this, But it's hard! To narrow the list down to five is almost impossible, but I will try. Here they are in no particular order, and off the top of my head:

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy - When I went to see this movie in the theater I wanted to beat the 18 bucks I spent on it out of someone. After reading the ESPN.com Bill Simmons piece on the NBA off-season to the tune of Anchorman quotes (I would provide a link to the piece but espn.com requires you to pay to be an “insider” to read it), then watching it again on HBO, I love it (had the same hate/love affair with the first two Austin Powers movies). It's meant to be silly and stupid and it scores, big-time. Favorite Quote: "I love lamp."

Clerks - No one has ever captured the redundancy of real life or the horror of having to deal with people all day like this, or made it more funny. Best dialogue in a comedy, EVER. Favorite Quote: "Cute cat, what's his name? "Annoying customer".

Monty Python and the Holy Grail - this movie that has made me laugh out loud every time I have watched it. And probably always will. Favorite quote: "What do you burn besides witches? More witches!"

Quick Change - most of Bill Murray's stuff is great, but this is easily one of my top-5 movies of all time. Three bank robbers pull off an amazing heist and then get stuck trying to get out of New York. If you haven't seen it, rent it. Only available right now on VHS. A true shame. Monk fans take note: Tony Shalhoub has a small yet memorable role. Favorite Quote: "What the hell kind of clown are you? "The crying on the inside kind, I guess".

Zorro, the Gay Blade - No, this is not a porn. Although I haven't bought it on DVD because I am afraid of what people might think browsing my movie collection. Haven't seen this movie since I was a teen. Hysterical. Stars George Hamilton (Love at First Bite) as the masked avenger and as his flamboyantly gay twin brother who takes over after the original breaks an ankle. My Dad and I get tears in our eyes when we re-hash certain scenes. Highly recommended rental. Not sure if the humor will hold up, but I am going to buy it and find out. Favorite Quote: "A-ha! I think he is trying to tell me something!"

Vince's Honorable Mention: Men At Work, Stripes, Trading Places, Better Off Dead, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Original BBC version), Rush Hour I...


[Currently Listening: Madness - "Baggy Trousers"]

Merry New Year

Rolling Stone’s end of 2005 issue called this year “The Worst Year Ever”. There is some truth to that, to be sure. Personally, this was definitely a wild year. There was some good, some bad, some truly idiotic actions on my part, some big personal breakthroughs, and some truly monumental happenings in my life. So, in lieu of me beating anyone over the head with the laundry list of the world's problems in 2005, here is the quickie version of Vince B’s Year In Review:

The dawning of 2005 was actually fairly exciting. It began with Kim and I excusing ourselves from a New Year’s Eve party at Frank and Jena’s in Lansdowne and finding ourselves home by 11:30pm. We were a week or so into knowing that we was going to be parents for the first time. Thus, I started the year with my mind racing all over the place, mostly between being thrilled and worried. Life is always changing, but mine was about to change both dramatically and quickly.

At the end of March, things were going very well with Kim’s pregnancy – but things were about to go horribly wrong with me professionally. I did some really stupid things at the job I had been working at for two years. I had been wronged by the owner of the company, and how I reacted to it is easily one of the stupidest, most horrible things I have ever done in my life. To put it short: I got screwed, I was hurt, I got vengeful, I got stupid, I got greedy and I got caught. It was a dark time for me. Luckily, my wife, our families and our friends stuck by me through this awful stretch (the situation remains unresolved). I feel truly blessed that people didn’t turn their backs on me. Kim would have been well within her rights to ditch me after this episode. I am truly ashamed by what I did. At the time I felt as though I was totally justified. The truth is I should have left the company once the promises to me were broken. There is no justification for the stunt I pulled.

I started a new job in late April and it was awesome to get back into an office setting. I guess I should be proud of doing as well as I did in a foreign setting for two years, but Vince B and construction equipment go together about as well Republicans and compassion. The new place I am working is a great improvement over where I was, and I am thankful for the opportunity. That being said, I work for a man I respect greatly for what he has accomplished – but one who is so hot and cold that you never really know where you stand.

The summer was pretty good to us. Our good friend and neighbor Bill had us down to his place in the O.C. a few times, and we were thankful to get to the shore some. Any fears we had about Kim’s pregnancy and any complications she might have in her first go-around went unfounded and everything went right down the line the way it was supposed to. On the morning of August 22nd, I was about to jump in the shower to get ready for work, when Kim came upstairs to tell me that she thought her water had broken. It took a few minutes for me to process exactly what that meant. A lot happened between this point and 6:05pm the following day, when The Man Zachary was born. Kim had a long night of labor, Zachary resisted the efforts to bring him into the world, a C-section was performed that I saw way too much of, and both Mommy and baby came through with flying colors. Kim recovered from her surgery 100 per cent, and our family was well on its way.

Autumn was hectic, as Kim and Zachary wrestled with feeding and sleep schedules. Tensions rose as the late-night decibels did the same from the baby’s room. The harsh financial realities of procreation began to rear their ugly heads, and while new parenthood was most exciting, having to pay for it was equally frightening. We took some steps to free up some money in the monthly budget, and we decided on a babysitter/day care plan.

The holidays were very enjoyable, although we had to temper our enthusiasm somewhat as we had to exercise some restraint. We didn’t go crazy on presents for the baby, as the rest of the family took care of that. Kim returned to work right after Thanksgiving and we both struggled with having to leave The Man Zachary with someone else everyday. It helped some to know that he was in the hands of close friends, and right next door to boot.

Our year ended, and the new one began, as it should. We had all of our favorite neighbors over for a late dinner and some merriment as we rang in the New Year together on Bala East. The gathering went on ‘til 4:30am, which surprised all of us. Much recovery time was needed on New Year’s Day, but all eight of us survived. Barely.

Looking forward to the New Year I don’t have much in the way of resolutions. I would like to lose some weight and get healthier. I would like to take some steps towards securing my family’s financial stability. I would like to re-connect with some friends that I miss terribly, and I would like to be nicer to my family and avoid past-experience-related blowups with them. I would like to become a better husband and father, and to maybe even figure out what I’d like to do with my life professionally. I would like 2006 (and all subsequent years for that matter) to be devoid of me doing anything stupid like I did in 2005 – no criminal buffoonery, no decisions that might hurt my family. 2006 is where I put forth a supreme effort to get back on track with my development as a person, a husband, a father, a son, an uncle and a friend. The stunt I pulled set me back some. I have to move forward, think forwardly, and be proactive in making life better for me, my family and those around me. I am looking forward to 2006. I hope all of us are.


[Currently Listening: The Pixies - "Where Is My Mind"]