Special By Any Other Name

I was so moved today by this Kathryn Jean Lopez article on Down Syndrome, I wrote her an e-mail. Then I thought I should share a portion of it with you:

I have served as a volunteer with Best Buddies and Special Olympics, as well as several more organizations that serve a variety of other "special needs" people, and I cannot overemphasize the impact this has had on my character and outlook on life.

Never have I been more quickly and powerfully moved to tears of joy than on the day I watched a wheelchair bound, multiply disabled young man perform a brief rhythmic gymnastics routine that consisted of about fifteen seconds of barely perceptible arm movement. It was obviously an arduous task, and it was painful to observe. The moment the music stopped, signifying the end of his routine, a tiny teammate -- a little girl with Down Syndrome who was probably no more than six or seven years old -- leapt up from her seat and ran full speed across the gymnasium floor to fling herself upon him and shower him with hugs and kisses. The cheers were muted only by spectators' vain attempts at stifling their own sniffles and sobs. The memory of the pure, simple beauty of this moment still makes me cry, years later.

Down Syndrome kids are the living embodiment of unbridled honesty. If they're happy, you will know. If they're hurting, you will know. If they love you -- and I have met very few who don't pour out their enthusiastic love and affection on everyone without condition or expectation -- you will know.

Special needs people serve a very important purpose in this world, whether or not they are considered to be so-called "productive members" of society. As a Christian, I say they are created in the image of God and therefore inherently valuable, but even those who do not share my worldview should be able to recognize the value they bring to our lives. I am humbled and brought into the correct perspective when interacting with a guileless Down Syndrome child (or adult) who has no hidden agenda, no selfish motive or manipulative angle in conversation. I am reminded of the importance of joy. I am motivated to seek clarity, to reprioritize, to love everyone in equal measure.

I pity the "normal people" who have never experienced this conviction of the conscience, and I mourn the loss of the many thousands of sweet souls who will never have the opportunity to bless and correct and encourage us in this way.

If you got all the way to the end of this post without reading the Lopez article, here's another chance.

Lattes of Love

During the holiday season, everyone seems to make demands of our time and money. There are gifts to buy, cookies to bake, homes to decorate and parties to attend. Since Christmastime is also thought of as a season for giving, many charitable organizations pass the hat as well. (My favorite solicit-by-mail tactic is what Amy and I refer to as the "guilt labels" -- "Please accept these pre-printed address labels with your name and an adorable graphic, as a FREE gift from us...but it would be really nice of you to use one on the included donation envelope!")

I'm the first to admit that sometimes it's all too much. I love Christmas, but I'm exhausted already, and it's not even December.

But as it turns out, even I have a pitch to make (this is what happens when you work at a nonprofit). Are you grateful that you've been blessed with good health this year? Do you like kids? Do the baristas at your local Starbucks actually start making your regular custom beverage the minute they see your car pull up in front of the store? Then consider the Starbucks Joy Drive.

It doesn't take much money or effort to drop a little toy in the donation bin while you're waiting in line for that gingerbread latte, but it will bring a huge smile to the face of a seriously ill child who will be spending Christmas in a hospital bed.

Thank Whom?

In between the Macy's parade and the football game, the drumstick and the nap, the pumpkin pie and the late-night turkey sandwich, think about this:

The essence of sin is misguided gratitude, not ingratitude. As dependent creatures we all, by nature, thank somebody or something (usually ourselves!) for what we experience and achieve. And the ultimate object of our gratitude becomes the object of our worship. In turn, the object of our gratitude becomes the object of our service, since we inevitably serve whatever or whomever we think will meet our needs (see Matthew 6:24). (...)

Idolatry, whether ancient or modern, is thus the futile attempt to look for our lives to anyone or anything other than the one true Creator and Provider. Whom do I thank when things go well? To whom do I look when things go badly? What is my source of security? Where do I gain my sense of worth in the world? What am I striving to achieve in life, and why? The answers to questions like these will help determine whether we are honouring God as God or whether we are idolaters. (...)

Citation: Scott J. Hafemann, The God of Promise and the Life of Faith (Crossway, 2001)

When you are thankful today, extend the thought far enough to ask exactly to whom you are giving thanks, and whom (or what) you are worshiping and serving.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow! Pause this day and thank Him for your very life; marvel that the Creator and Sustainer of all things would reach out in love to His fallen creatures, would allow you to draw the breath you did just now.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. And please say a prayer for my friend Benjamin and all our other military men and women who are far from home this holiday season.

Songs from the Soundtrack of My Life

When I was growing up in Fresno, one of the signature sounds of summer was the neighborhood ice cream truck. I could hear it coming around the corner to the tune of "Little Brown Jug," the lyrics of which I've never really thought about until just now:

My wife and I lived all alone,
In a little log hut we called our own;
She loved gin and I loved rum,
I tell you what, we’d lots of fun.

Chorus:
Ha, ha, ha, you and me,
Little Brown Jug don’t I love thee;
Ha, ha, ha, you and me,
Little Brown Jug don’t I love thee.

If all the folks in Adam’s race,
Were gathered together in one place;
Then I’d prepare to shed a tear,
Before I’d part from you, my dear.

(Chorus)

’Tis you who makes my friends my foes,
’Tis you who makes me wear old clothes;
Here you are, so near my nose,
So tip her up, and down she goes.

(Chorus)

If I’d a cow that gave such milk,
I’d clothe her in the finest silk;
I’d feed her on the choicest hay,
And milk her forty times a day.

(Chorus)

When I go toiling to my farm,
I take little Brown Jug under my arm;
I place it under a shady tree,
Little Brown Jug, ’tis you and me.

(Chorus)

The rose is red, my nose is, too,
The violet’s blue, and so are you;
And yet I guess before I stop
We’d better take another drop.

(Chorus)

"Hey, kids! You're too young to get liquored up like the guy in the song, but it's never too early to start on obesity! Come on out & getcha some ice cream!"

Then I moved to Los Angeles. Ice cream trucks I encounter here always seem to play "Brahms Lullaby." Now, L.A. can be a dangerous city; maybe the ice cream man feels the need to gently sedate the gun-totin' tykes, to lull them into a zombie-like stupor just before providing them with sugar and speeding away.

Now I'm working in West L.A., and almost every day I hear an approaching taco truck, headed to nearby construction sites for the benefit of hungry, hard working men with hammers, who are probably building overpriced condos. I'm always tempted to eat at a taco truck because everything smells good and I love Mexican food. But the horn on this one plays "La Cucaracha," which is either irony or truth in advertising, and that's a dangerous game indeed.

Animated

THIS is the coolest Web toy ever! Go now! Go! GO!!!

Don't Drink and Dork

(AKA "Overheard at a Bar Near the San Diego Convention Center")

* Didn't I see you on the cover of Anime Babe Monthly?
* You're hotter than a Tatooine summer.
* I have kung fu grip, baby.
* So, I have an extra ticket to the Comic Con....
* I just want a woman who understands me. I mean that -- do you know binary?
* Do you play Halo, or just wear one?
* Let's go back to my ship.
* Wanna see my favorite action figure?
* Do you have a little Hobbit in you? Would you like to?
* That's a pretty name...may I "google" you?
* Want to help me with my social skills?
* Stick with me, baby, and I'll take you places no woman has ever been. Like my apartment.
* Ouch! You're +12 versus my heart protector shield.

More Good Neighbors in the Cyberhood

Have you guys met my friend (and occasional commenter on this blog) James? He's a rocket engineer, a dad, and a beagle owner, which means he enjoys a challenge. I like and respect him despite his having gone to USC, and I think you'll enjoy his new blog.

Save the Date...?

Sorry about this next line. You'll understand why as soon as you click.

Calling all "train buffs!"

Double Take

So I'm entering data onto this spreadsheet at work, and I glance at the "contact information" field to see this:

Jesus, Facilities Mgmt.

Then after a quick chuckle, I think to myself, "No, really. He kinda is."

Quote of the Day

From my phone conversation with a smarmy representative from the two-bit management company that has taken over our apartment building, on why we should give them a copy of our apartment key:

"It's not like we'll be using it willy-nilly...just in case of an emergency. You know, like if there's water running down the walls or something."

Which, by the way, it does EVERY TIME IT RAINS. Ready for the kicker? Here it is:

"We'd hate to have to break down the door and then charge you for it."

Word

He is rizzle, indeed.

Think I'll...Pass

Subject line from this week's Ticketmaster update e-mail:

"Don't Miss Urinetown"

Come on now. That's just too easy.

Put on a Happy Face

Or put on a scary face. You decide; you're the master pumpkin carver.

Keep America Beautiful, Jerk

Oh, good sir in your shiny white Ford Explorer, California license plate number 2ZMJ954, I saw you roll down your driver side window and drop that wadded up napkin and flaccid banana peel onto 83rd Street as you and I were waiting in the left turn lane on our way to our respective jobs at 9:00 this morning.

I desperately hope that one of our many thousands of daredevil neighborhood squirrels picks up the banana peel and somehow makes its way back to your overpriced single-family dwelling, to deposit it in some crevice, some out-of-the-way place where the peel will rot and stink and attract many other vermin who will then gleefully take advantage of your unintended hospitality.

I also hope you breathe a little sigh of relief that California doesn't have a litterbug hotline, like Pennsylvania does, because yes -- oh, yes -- I would have called to report you. Really. I called the only litter reporting number I could find (1-800-TELL-CHP), but fortunately for you it was a non-highway issue out of their jurisdiction.

Fun fact of the day, from the California Penal Code:

42001.7. (a) Every person convicted of a violation of Section 23111 or 23112, or subdivision (a) of Section 23113, shall be punished by a mandatory fine of not less than one hundred dollars ($100) nor more than one thousand dollars ($1,000) upon a first conviction, by a mandatory fine of not less than five hundred dollars ($500) nor more than one thousand dollars ($1,000) upon a second conviction, and by a mandatory fine of not less than seven hundred fifty dollars ($750) nor more than one thousand dollars ($1,000) upon a third or subsequent conviction.

Know this, o soiler of my beautiful neighborhood: I will keep my eyes peeled like that banana for you, and perhaps next time I will follow you to the freeway with my finger on the "send" button of my cell phone.

Millionaire Jenny

It's always encouraging to hear there's another valuable Jenny who's treasured and popular precisely because she's got a little something amiss.

Born in the Wrong Century?

While poking around the Web looking for more information on the old Getty Villa (the Malibu facility, which houses my favorite parts of the Getty collection, will finally re-open in 2006 after a long and costly renovation), I stumbled upon the beautiful little sampler you see at left.

It's a piece made by Rebekah S. Munro in Rhode Island in the early 1790s, and this is what's sewn into it:

"With Sheba's queen ye american fair
To adorn your mind bend all your care
[How blest the maid] whom circling years improve
Her GOD the object of her warmest love
Whose useful hours successive as they glide
The Book the Needle and the Pen divide
Who sees her Parents Heart exult with joy
And the fond tear stand sparkling in their eye"

What also struck me was the description on the Met Museum site:

"This sampler is in a slightly later style associated with Miss Balch's school. The formal archway in Mary Munro's sampler has been replaced by a gently meandering border (1984.331.12). Both girls used the motto that encourages young women to adorn their minds. Rebekah's verse goes on to say that a young woman should divide her time between reading, sewing, and writing, an indication that by the end of the eighteenth century, some families considered intellectual pursuits as important as sewing."

My first thought was, "How much would I love to divide my time between reading, sewing, and writing?"

Sure, there was no indoor plumbing back then, no e-mail, no accessible Mexican food, and I'd probably have died in childbirth at the age of 25 with the delivery of my seventh or eighth kid, but still. Reading, sewing, writing. Pretty sweet deal.

I'll Take "Things That Are Wrong" for $500, Alex

I was shopping for a new shower head at Home Depot, scanning the massive shelf of products for the fixture that satisified just the right combination of "I am broke" and "I need to bathe the dog, in my bathroom, without incident." It was overwhelming because there were so many choices, and because I had the dog with me and was trying to do things quickly and pay attention to him and pick up everything I needed to look at with my one free hand.

But this post is not about the dog. Oh, no.

I saw a box for a product on that aisle, right there among the shower heads, that made me laugh out loud in the middle of everyone and everything. But distracted as I was, and lacking the time to pick up the box and look at it, I just chose my fine mid-range-price lifetime-warranty Delta fixture ("Great for washing pets!" Am I a sucker for the marketing or what?), and headed home with my head full of "Hope this works."

Two weeks later, I flashed back to that product on the shelf and doubted my lucidity at the time. Did I really see what I thought I saw? Was that really the name of the product? Am I remembering this right? I couldn't be sure. So, like anyone of my generation would, I consulted the great and powerful Google.

And yes. Oh, yes, there it was.

Brother Can You Spare a Pint?

I cried because I had no spoon.
But then I met a man who had no ice cream.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye! The Dog Blog Begins!

It's time to make the official announcement that I have my dog...and he has a blog.

Well, okay. I'm the one who has the blog, technically, since his lack of opposable thumbs prevents him from doing much typing. But it's about him, and it's about my journey as a puppy raiser for Guide Dogs of America. I waited a while for this unveiling so I could put up 20 posts or so full of content and photos to mollify those of you who've been...er, hounding me...for new stuff. I recommend starting with the archives (October 2004) and reading your way forward. Meanwhile, this blog will remain in existence for non-dog-related thoughts and writings.

So check it out! Foolishly, I've put a title on it that's different from the actual URL, which will no doubt make it difficult to remember. But we'll all just have to live with it for now. Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you: To Tame the Wild Beastie.

Watch This Space

I know I've been lax in posting. I know. Here's why....

Coming soon: an additional blog, chock full o' fabulous facts and anecdotes (and photos!) related to my puppy raising for Guide Dogs of America. I've been working on it for the last week, copying dog-themed posts from this blog to that one, tweaking the details, filling in the blanks, dealing with photos, etc.

And it's all because I got my puppy today.

Lomax is snoozing at my feet, all tuckered out from a long day of freeways and baths and playtime and being adored. I am all tuckered out from good old-fashioned not getting enough sleep -- a trend which, unfortunately, is continuing tonight.

I'll announce and link to the dog blog when it's ready. Meanwhile, please enjoy this fine website, which should meet or exceed your humor expectations. (Check out "Last Wish of a Dying Man!")