Tuesday, March 27, 2018

South Tacoma Cross Walk 2018


This will be our 6th year walking the community, remembering victims of violence and reclaiming places of hurt as places of hope.  That's what we do.  Will you join us again this year?  If so, meet at Manitou Park Presbyterian Church (6613 S. Cheyenne) on Thursday, March 29th at 5:00. 


Join us for the entire walk, part or even one stop.  We’ve listed the times so you’ll know where we plan to be.  At each stop we will offer a brief recounting of the person, the nature of the violence and a prayer.  We can not do anything to bring them back, but we can do something to honor their life and work to end violence in the future.

Stop  Time           Mile            Location                                  Person
Start   5:00                                6613 S. Cheyenne  (MPPC)            
1        5:10             0                 Manitou Park                              Fernando Sandoval  (17)
2        5:20             .2                Tyler & 66th                               James Timmons (46)
3        5:50             1.6               58th & Montgomery                     Robert Crall (54)
4        6:00             1.8               56th & S. Tacoma Way                 Jason Galaviz (40)
5        6:15             2.2               52nd & S. Tacoma Way                Tyrell Stokes (29)
6        6:30             2.5               47th and Warner/Puget Sound      Brandon Morris (19)
7        6:45             3.1               S. Oaks & 51st                            Hector Gonzalez (15)
8        6:50             3.3               S. Oakes & 54th                          James A. Guillory (28)
9        7:00             4.0               56th Street Shell Station              Julio Segura-McIntosh (3)

At the completion of our walk, we’ll get picked up and taken to the Sikes house where to share a kind of Maundy Thursday meal together.  If you have questions, please call me (Ken Sikes) at 253-228-5862 or e-mail kwsikes@gmail.com.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

South Tacoma Cross Walk 2017 (5th Year)

This will be our 5th year walking the community, remembering victims of violence and reclaiming places of hurt as places of  hope.  That's what we do.  Will you join us again this year?  If so, meet at Starbucks at the corner of 56th and South Tacoma Way on Friday, April 14th at 9:00. 

Join us for the entire walk, part or even one stop.  We’ve listed the times so you’ll know where we plan to be.  At each stop we will offer a brief recounting of the person, the nature of the violence and a prayer.  We can not do anything to bring them back, but we can do something to honor their life and work to end violence in the future.


Stop  Time           Mile            Location                                  Person
Start   9:00                                56th & S. Tacoma Way (Starbucks)             
1        9:10             0                 56th & S. Tacoma Way                 Jason Galaviz (40)
2        9:15             .2                52nd & S. Tacoma Way                Tyrell Stokes (29)
3        9:20             .9                56th and Lawrence                      David Watson (45)
4        9:45             1.6               47th and Warner/Puget Sound      Brandon Morris (19)
5        10:15           2.6               S. Oakes & 54th                          James A. Guillory (28)
6        10:45           3.3               56th Street Shell Station              Julio Segura-McIntosh (3)
7        11:20           4.0               72nd & Lawrence                         Laura Anne Carlson (46)
8        11:30           5.3               70th & Puget Sound (Alley)          Saul Lucas-Alfonso (25)
9        11:50           6.2               Manitou Park                              Fernando Sandoval  (17)
Finish 12:00           6.3               Manitou Park Presbyterian 

We will begin our walk in the Starbucks parking lot at the corner of 56th and South Tacoma Way and conclude the walk in Manitou Park.  Rides will be provided back to the starting point.  If you have questions, please call or e-mail Ken Sikes at 472-1606 or kwsikes@gmail.com

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Eulogy: Debra Cook our Minister of Hugs and Kindness

When I started writing this eulogy I thought I was going to use the passage where Jesus calls the children to him and then tells the disciples that to enter the kingdom of heaven, they need to become like these children.  In many ways Debra was like a child and I think there is much to appreciate about this, but as I began to write, I started to realize that even more than a child in our midst, Debra was a teacher.  Not just a teacher, she was our teacher and so this passage came to me.

Matthew 5:1-10
Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, 2 and he began to teach them, saying: 3 "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 7 Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. 8 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. 10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

When Jesus saw the crowds he went up on a mountainside, sat down and began to teach them.  Like Jesus teaching the disciples, Debra taught us.  What do teachers do?  They impart knowledge.  I know Debra was a teacher because I know God better because I have known Debra.  How many of you would say the same?   This morning I want to reflect on a few of those ways that Debra was our teacher.    

Debra taught us to serve
Debra taught us how to serve.  She first showed up at Manitou with Doreen who was her mentor/employer/boss/coach.  She came to work in the food and clothing bank.  At times she hung around in the adult clothing section and folded clothes.  Other times she sat on the stairs and welcomed people and she never turned down the offer of a cup of coffee.  Anyone who has regularly spent time at the food bank has probably felt like it was a bit of a burden, "Ah we have food bank today."  I’m not sure if Debra ever felt that way.  Until her stroke, she found a way to get there.  Even after her stroke she shared how she wanted to come back and help.   “The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve…” (Mat. 20:28)   Like Jesus, Debra taught us how to serve.

Debra taught us about worship
At some point in her food bank career Debra suddenly told us that she wanted to come to church.  Of course, we said, please do.  I don’t know if any of us thought more about her declaration and I don’t remember any of us offering to pick her up.  Debra didn’t live close enough to walk.  I’m not sure she was a morning person and she certainly didn’t drive so I’m not sure any of us really expected her to show up that Sunday.  And yet, there around 9:30 we heard a beep, beep, beep and saw the blue shuttle pulling up.  Down the steps and out of the swinging doors stepped Debra ready, excited to be at church, to be with people and to worship God.  
I often begin worship with the words of the Psalmist, “I was glad when they said unto me Let us go up to the house of the Lord.”   Even though we say this, many times we aren’t that glad to come up to the house of the Lord, but not Debra.  I cannot think of a time she wasn’t glad to be here.  Debra showed us how to be glad to worship.   

Debra taught us how to evangelize
When you hear the word evangelist you probably get some image of a guy with white hair and a slick suit swinging the Bible around from a pulpit.  It’s unfortunate this is our image because an evangelist is simply person who shares good news.  Who doesn’t like good news?  One of the phrases we use to describe Manitou is ‘community worth sharing.’  This is an evangelical phrase that says this community with God and each other is worth sharing, it is good news.  From time to time some of us, believe it or not, will even share this with other people and even invite them here.  But of all the people in this church, in my fourteen years here no one has brought more people to church than Debra.  This community was undoubtedly worth sharing to her and so she did.  
Jessica, Jackie and Debra with Talullah
Pretty soon after Debra started coming on Sundays she was joined by this platinum haired jovial young lady Jackie.  Not long after that came this young roly poly guy named Shawn.  Then not much later they were joined by Phyllis and then by this other young lady who was always dressed in Seahawks gear and talking about the Mariners, yes Jessica.  Four people began coming to Manitou because of Debra.  If every person in this church brought half as many people to church as Debra did, we wouldn’t have enough room.  You don’t have to have gone to seminary or be an elder or even be able to live alone to share the good news.  Debra taught us that it is as simple as saying, do you want to come with me?

Debra taught us about the Bible
Can you remember the last time you received a letter, I mean an actual handwritten letter?  Most of us get plenty of e-mails and texts, but handwritten letters are going the way of the dinosaur.  But not if Debra had anything to do with it.  How many of you received a something like this from Debra?  Every few Sundays Debra would show up with a stack of letters she’d meticulously handwritten with capital letters and proceed to pass them out like Santa Claus on Christmas day.  
"What does this have to do with the Bible?" you might be asking.  Well, guess what most of the New Testament is. Yep letters.  In a way the Bible is a collection of letters from God to humanity that has been preserved through the ages.  God is constantly writing to us. Debra taught and reminded me of this.

Debra taught us Perseverance
After a few years here we received word that Debra had had a stroke.  I was told by more than one person that this might be it for her.  I went to visit her and didn’t argue with the assessment.  She was lying in a bed, couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk, couldn’t feed herself and couldn’t get up.  Any road to recovery was going to be a long one, if it was even possible.  I don’t know about you, but were I in such a situation I know I’d have been tempted just to call it quits, be done, let go.  To be sure that time eventually comes for all of us and no one would have blamed Debra for letting go, but what did she do instead?  She worked.  She fought.  She exercised.  She rehabbed and eventually she spoke words again.  Eventually she walked again.  Eventually she even began to write letters again and eventually, we heard the beep, beep, beep and who came shuffling, with a new walker, into the church?  
Not only do we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character, and character hope and hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts.”  (Romans 5:3-5)  Debra taught us about perseverance, about hope.

Debra taught us to be the church
A couple of months ago Debra started to have some, let’s say digestive problems at church.  It began during Sunday School where it was usually the case that she had to get up in the middle of class to shuffle down to the bathroom.  Only later did we realize that her number of trips to the bathroom was directly correlated with the strength of the coffee that morning.  On one of her trips back she sat down and informed us that someone had pooped on the toilet.  Okay, I replied, do you have any idea how this might have happened?  Debra vigorously shook her head.  After finishing class we passed by the bathroom to see Tracy, one of our elders on the floor cleaning things up.
Two weeks later we had another incident.  This time it was at the beginning of worship and it was obvious Debra had not made it to the bathroom.  Without blinking Sherry took her to get cleaned up while Beth got her some fresh clothes from the food bank. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more honored to be the pastor of this congregation than after I saw how you responded to Debra those days.  
Towards the end of the book of Matthew Jesus praises a group of people for caring for him.  "But when did we care for you?" they ask.  "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."  (To these Jesus might have added, “I soiled my clothes and you cleaned me up.)   "I tell you the truth, what do to the least of these, you have done to me."  If meeting Christ in the least of these isn’t being the church than I don’t know what is.  Debra taught us how to be the church.  
Now at this point you may be thinking such talk isn’t quite what you’d want shared about you at your funeral.   I get that, but let me press a little further in, because I think it reveals both more about Debra as well as God. The story goes even deeper and Debra had another lesson for us.

Debra taught us the gospel, to not be ashamed
It is one thing to be the one who cleans someone else up, but what if you are the one who needs to be cleaned up?  Let me ask you this question, had you had Debra’s struggles at church, how many of us would have remained in worship?  And yet, there was Debra smiling in her clothing bank outfit.  And then the next Sunday, how many of us would be too ashamed to come back to church?  But not Debra, there she was the next Sunday, one of the first people here.  
Shame is one of the most powerful forces in the world and it is almost always a negative force.  Think of how much we have hidden, how much we have avoided, how much we have failed to risk or share because of shame.  Heck, much of church feels designed for us to ignore or hide the things we are ashamed of, but this is not the gospel - just the opposite.  “I am not ashamed of the gospel,” writes Paul, “because it is the power of God for salvation…” (Romans 1:16)  Paul was referring to the seemingly embarrassing fact that his God was killed in the most dehumanizing and demoralizing way - his God was hung on a cross - the most shameful of things and yet, what does Jesus do three days later - he shows up.  If our God was not ashamed of being hung naked on a cross, then what have we to be ashamed?  
Sure Debra had a little shame around her accident, but it was not near enough to keep her from hiding from the community. She was not ashamed of her struggles. When we said, "you are God's child, beloved with whom God is pleased," she believed us. Like Jesus, she decided that identity was far greater than being identified as someone who'd had an accident.  This is a lesson I have much to learn in, but Debra has been my teacher.  

She Taught us Hugs
Finally, we come to what I feel is Debra’s signature revelation of God - hugs.  It was a little surprising at first when in the middle of the sermon Debra got up and shuffled across the sanctuary to Kylee or Jeremy or Beth to lean over and offer a hug.  It’s a little surprising at first, and I’ve had fun watching the eyes of visitors when this happens.  They cease paying any attention to what I am saying and follow Debra to see what she is doing.  
Someone asked me along the way if this bothered me.  I had to think about that  for a minute before honestly replying no, it didn’t and here’s why.  
We were in Sunday School one morning and discussing the parable of the servants and the talents.  You know this parable.  One servant doubles is five to ten, another doubles his three to six, but the last servant buries his and does nothing with it.  When the master finds out he praises the first two, but berates the third before casting him out into the dark where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.  After reading the story, I asked if this was what God is like?  Is God one who belittles the failing servant and casts them out into darkness.  The group was stumped.  I mean usually it seems the Father plays the God role in Jesus story, but didn’t sound like God.  We were getting into the discussion and I was just about to give my take on the passage when Debra got up.  
Now I’ll admit to being a little frustrated.  I was about to drop some pearls of wisdom on this group and Debra was interrupting.  I stopped talking as she shuffled across the room to the couch where Kodi sat, who just weeks before had lost her Father.  Slowly, carefully Debra, opened  her arms, leaned down and into Kodi hugging her for several moments while saying the few words her stroke-ridden voice could speak, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry.”  She raised back up, turned with tears in her eyes and slowly shuffled back to her seat as we all watched in silence.  There was nothing else to say, nothing else to teach.  What was God like?  Debra had answered our question.     

The way out…
Debra hugging others was not an interruption to my sermon, it was a sermon.  Debra hugging others was not just talking about God, it was being the presence of God.  Oh how I’m going to miss that.  I didn’t realize that until two weeks ago.  
In the middle of the service we gather the children in a circle for a blessing and almost always Debra joins us in that circle.  But two weeks ago there was a hole in the circle.  Debra wasn’t here and we knew she wasn’t coming back.  It was then it hit me, it hit us all I think how much she had become an essential part of our community.  How would we be Manitou without Debra?  
Someday, when we meet her on the other side of the Jordan, she like all of us will be recognizable, while having been made whole.  Some day we will meet her again and I will ask about leaving us.  I imagine she will say something like, “What else did you need from me?  I taught you everything I knew.”  And then, as in the olden days, we will hug.

Debra Cook
September 2, 1954 - February 19, 2017

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Day 38ish: So Much Beauty

June 13

I saw these running one day in June and couldn't help but stop photograph them.  They reminded me of a line from the movie American Beauty,

"That's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it, and my heart is just going to cave in."



Day 36: Sound To Narrows

June 11, 2016

Disclaimer:  A friend of mine once said that "The only thing worse than watching golf is listening to someone recount their latest round of golf."  If you believe what my friend said about golf to also be true about things such as fantasy football, fishing and running, then you might want to skip the following post. Seriously, feel free, I won't be offended. 

Back before the turn of the century in the mid 90s my Army battalion signed up to run the Sound to Narrows 12K Run (S2N).   All be it under some compulsion, it was a good introduction to what I think is one of the best races in the country.  Though I left the Army in 1998, I kept the running, in no small part because of the Sound to Narrows.  Erin and I began running the race together after we returned from Atlanta in 2003 and have continued to do so almost every year since.  My closet is full of t-shirt evidence.

Some people exercise to lose weight.  Some people exercise to be healthier.  Some people exercise for the endorphin rush and some people exercise because Richard Simmon's tells them to.  It is not a flabby stomach, not good health and not even endorphins but the desire to do well on the S2N that gets me out of bed to run on cold March mornings.   It is my annual test of health.  If I can run it in under an hour then I feel I'm keeping the doctors away.  And if I really want to feel good about myself then I'll beat my personal record.

So sitting in the middle of a sabbatical, I thought, this may be the year I beat my best time.  Hopes were high.  With a few weeks left to race time, I knew from my training that I wasn't going to set a personal best, but I still hoped to beat an hour.  As Erin was out with planter fascias, it was just Jeremy Doty and myself who drove to the race together.  My hamstring had been feeling a little tight the previous few weeks so I tried to loosen and warm it up.  Hamstrings are fickle creatures and mine are the ficklest.  On more than one occasion they've yelled at me, usually while running to first while playing softball.  They yelled so much I quit softball, but now they'd started to whine while running.  Oh hammy's what will make you happy?

Finally the race started and the hordes descended the hill.  The first part of the race is great because its all down hill.  A few years ago I made the mistake of letting loose. I usually run around an 8:00 mile, but by the second mile I was averaging 6:30/mile.  I knew then I was either going to have the greatest time I'd ever had or barely finish.  I'll let you guess which it was.  On this day I held back and was at a nice 7:15 pace at 2 miles.  This was good, but then the hammy started whining.  Actually it sort of screamed, not a pop, but more like a bubble ran across the back of my leg.  I pulled up, and it quieted down.  I slowed my pace and was okay for another mile. I started to feel good enough that I pushed the gas a little - Yelp!  There it went again and I pulled up.  This happened three more times over the next mile.  By the fourth mile I seriously began to wonder if I could even finish let alone beat an hour.  I decided to really slow it down and just try to finish.  I watched as people almost twice my age and 1/3 my age; people twice my weight and half my weight passed me.  A version of a Clash song ran through my brain, "Should I slow or should I go now?  If I slow there will be trouble, if I go it could be double."  My lungs said go, but my legs said slow.

Letting up helped so halfway through the 5th mile I decided to stretch it out.  Bit by bit I increased my stride and the hammy remained quiet.  At mile six I looked at my watch, and it read 46:30.  I still had a chance. If I could run this last 1.4 miles at an 8 minute pace then I'd beat an hour.  Only problem was our nice downhill start was now an uphill finish.  I continued with the masses heaving, lumbering, huffing and puffing up that hill.  At mile seven my watch read 55:30 and I knew I was going to beat an hour as long as the hammies remained quiet.  Lo and behold, like babies in a rocking stroller they must have fallen asleep because I was able to finish the last .4 miles in 3:27 and finish the race at 59:10.

And thus another year where I can still feel good about my health.  I think I'll put that over 40 physical off again.  And next year, look out Mark Spadoni, I'm gunning for 14th in the Male 40-44 category.  JB Gilchrist, you can probably relax.



Saturday, August 13, 2016

Day 34: On the Radio

June 9

I can now admit that when I see Reggie Pearsol's name on my phone I usually let it go to voice mail.  Some of you know that Reggie is the music teacher at Manitou Park Elementary.  He also organizes their musicals and spring performances.  He is a master at gathering volunteers and these wonderful events would not be possible with them.  A couple of years ago I was caught in his volunteer net when he needed some people to help with the Spring play "On the Radio."  I had a bit part as an Elvis impersonator, but when another teacher was unable to perform I was upgraded to the role of radio DJ Marvelous Mike.  The play went really well and ended up being a lot of fun.  It went so well, in fact, that Mr. Pearsol decided to bring it back this year which is why he was once again calling me.

I tried my best to get out of the play offering multiple excuses.  
"I'm not sure I'll have the time."  
"I'll be on sabbatical then."  
"Wouldn't you like to get others involved?"  

He countered every defense I gave.
"It won't take too much time."
"We'll work around your schedule."
"There will be plenty of chances for others to be involved." 

  Okay, I conceded, but this time I prefer to direct the actors instead of performing if that was okay.  Sure, he said, we can do that.  Ten practices and a dress rehearsal later and we were finally at performance night.  You can see some pictures and a video below from how that went.  


"On the Radio" performed at Mt. Tahoma by 2nd & 3rders from Manitou Park Elementary

Joseph was one of my actors.
He played a son who just wanted to listen to the Beatles.





Sorry for the poor video quality and being 90 degrees off

Monday, August 8, 2016

Days 26-28: For Pete's Lake

June 1-3

I love backpacking. Erin and I got out on the trails frequently back in the day...the day before our kids came along.  As our  kids have gotten older we've started taking them on day hikes to great benefit.  Our clan can be in the grumpiest moods all but impervious to any efforts to change their attitudes but by thirty minutes into a hike every thing has changed.  Things went so well hiking that I thought it worth taking things to the next level: backpacking.  Before taking the kids, I thought it wise to dust of the camp stove and thermarests and see for myself if even I had still had what it took for a couple of nights on the trail.  It's a good thing I did for by the end of my three days in the woods I had discovered that my boots were too small, I needed a camp stove and Cooper Lake wasn't worth a night's stay.
Two intrepid explorers about to embark.

Several of these creek crossings needed traversing on the trail
Tallulah and I set off on Wednesday, June 1 from Salmon La Sac campground on the trail to Cooper Lake where I planned to camp.  Five minutes into a hike up the hill in which I was realizing fifty pounds was probably too much for a guy who hadn't backpacked in ten years, I passed a mountain biker who asked my destination.  "Cooper Lake?" he replied, "don't you know you can drive there?"  Yes, I did know that, but his saying so didn't help.  Five miles later I arrived at Cooper Lake and realized the campsites were all pay to sleep.

This wasn't what I was looking for.  So I decided to keep hiking another four miles to the more remote Pete's Lake.  Other than the damage on my toes, this proved to be a good decision.  I ended up seeing fewer people on the trail than I can count on one hand and there were even fewer staying at the lake.
Pete's Lake from my campsite
 I could not have been more satisfied with my campsite which I'm convinced was the best on the lake.   It had access to water, a great view, was near the inlet of the Cooper River and free of any neighbors.  Well there were some neighbors nesting adjacent to my camp but they were there first.  While searching for wood I came across the tightly woven hummingbird nest you see in the picture below.  Those are eggs inside the size of which are just amazing.  They really look like those tiny candy eggs you get at Easter.  I resisted the temptation to taste them.

The next day I was admittedly disappointed when I heard voices and the jingle of a dog's collar. Tallulah began her protective barking at a smallish black lab.  An older couple followed behind the dog.  They introduced themselves but as I often do quickly forgot their names.  I thought they'd said Peggy and Stu.  "Nah," that couldn't be right, that was just me with a Buddy Holly song stuck in my head.  "Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue, oh how Peggy I love you..."  Of course that was the song that I feel asleep to.

The next day the couple stopped by to say hello and a little conversation.  By this point I'd been alone long enough to thirst for a conversation with someone who didn't bark.  As it turns out, Buddy Holly was right and their names were Peggy and Stu. They were a retired couple who lives in Duvall where he works at a used book store.  They try to get on the trail as often as possible while their bodies still allow it.  If forced to guess, I'd put their ages in the late 60's.  They gave me hope for more trips in my twilight hears.  We had a wonderful conversation in which I learned that Stu builds Mandolins.  I told him about my recent dive into bluegrass music and wondered out loud if he might consider building a mandolin I could purchase.  "Well," he said thoughtfully, "I don't know if I could sell you one.  I'd rather make a few dozen before doing that."  This kind of perfection, of course made me want one his mandolins even more.

The next morning I left camp around noon after making myself a mug of tea.  Loaded up with bruised toes and a lighter pack it dawned on me that I had gone to the woods to enjoy the hospitality of creation - a goal that was undoubtedly attained.  What I hadn't expected was to also enjoy the hospitality of strangers.  Thank you Peggy and Stu for your kindness and conversation.

It was nice to be able to have a fire by the lake

This Rocky Road pudding may look gross but tasted delicious

Tallulah waits for me  to catch up on the trail


Pete's Lake

Friday, August 5, 2016

Days 24 & 33: Raspberries, Righties and Rainbows

May 25 and June 8
Some of you may remember us mentioning our neighbor's house burning down several years ago.  One of the boys in that house, Steven, went to Manitou and was in the same grade as Will.  Despite moving a couple of times Steven continued to go to Manitou.  Last winter I coached a basketball team at the Boys and Girls Club on which Steven played (very well I might say.)  At the end of that season I invited the boys to join our baseball team.  Two of them did, one of whom was Steven.  I was very excited to add a couple more players to our long running team, but there were two problems.
     First, Steven's aunt and uncle could pick him up from practice but couldn't get off work in time to take him.  This problem was easy to solve as myself and some other coaches were able to give him a ride.  Sometimes, as you can see from the pictures below, Steven just came home from school with Will.  This was great for us because Steven would quickly head through the house into the backyard and back to the basketball hoop.  Our kids like basketball, but usually prefer other activities, except when Steven is around.  Within seconds of arriving he's leading a game of HORSE.
     The other problem was simply this: Steven had never played baseball.  He'd never been to a baseball game.  He'd never even seen a game played.  The first day of practice I had to show him which hand to put the glove on.  "Uh oh" I remember initially thinking, "I was hoping this season would be one where all the kids started to 'get it.' but now we're starting at the beginning with Steven."  Oh well, that's coaching, right?  Then, after getting the glove on the correct hand Steven threw the ball and my fears vanished..."Pop!"  It nailed the glove of the other player.  Steven could throw the ball.  By the end of the second practice, he was on the mound working with our pitching coach.  He did so well that we put him in to start our second game and here's how the first inning went.
Batter 1: Strike Out
Batter 2: Pop out to the Pitcher (Steven)
Batter 3: Strike Out
     Steven exited the field to raucous cheers and some proud coaches who were sure we had the next Felix Hernandez on our team.  Then the next inning went like this.
Batter 1: Walk
Batter 2: Walk
Batter 3: Walk
Batter 4: Walk
Batter 5.... well you get the picture.
     We had to pull Steven after 4 runs scored and my pitching dreams went from King Felix to Bobby Ayala (sorry M's fans for speaking the name of the reliever who shall not be named).  Winston Churchill once said, "Success is not final, failure is not fatal; its the courage to continue that counts." Churchill would have loved Steven because he continued - through many more strikeouts and walks.  By the end of the season he'd started to put it together and struck out the side in his last inning of our final game.
     I considered sitting this baseball season out when I received the sabbatical grant.  I knew I'd miss several games and didn't feel like I could coach the team being so absent.  Fortunately Jeremy offered to be the head coach while Jason and Erik offered to take on some more responsibility.  It is so great coaching with other guys who are willing to share the load.  Had that not been the case we'd have missed the chance for things like shared raspberries, rookie righties and rainbow diamonds.  What a shame that would have been.
Raspberries are worth taking a break from basketball
The 2016 Mighty Manitou Bulldogs

Coach Jeremy leads the team in our  last cheer, "Go Manitou."


Turns out instead of finding a pot of gold, its diamonds are at the end of a rainbow. 

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

At the Lake House

Let me begin by apologizing to anyone who has checked the site hoping for an update.  I know many people spend all day clicking refresh on their browser awaiting a new post like a scoop of Mayfield Moosetrack Ice Cream only to receive a big sugar cone of jack squat.  In my defense, the lake house at which we are staying doesn't have wifi.  Can you believe it?  In all honesty, this has been a blessing.  Instead of updating my fantasy baseball team, I've been casting a plastic worm.  Instead of reading about the mariners, I've been watching the sun set over the lake.  Instead of writing blogs, I've been playing the guitar.  So, how's that for a defense?

I have a host of posts waiting to be written; about backpacking, school plays, Minnesota and St. Simons Island, but until I get to those I thought I'd post a few pictures from our first three weeks at the lake which began on July 5 and ends on August 4th.  There will be more to come, unfortunately none of them are near as good as that Mayfield Ice Cream. 

This is the view from the upper level of our dock. In the distance you can see the steam from the nuclear plant.  Nothing says sabbatical like a nuclear reactor, eh?
Here's Watt's Bar nuclear reactors in their full glory.    So far we've chosen not to eat the fish. 
Speaking of fish.  I get to chase these large mouth bass daily.  Every once in a while I luck into catching one; thanks mostly to my brother in law Chris who loaned me rods, reels, worms and pliers.  I've never been so happy to get worms.  
In 1972 I was born and my grandfather bought a boat.  That boat survives and thanks to my uncle and dad (who fixed it up and registered it) it is now our primary means of transportation.  Above is the expression affixed to my face every time we go out on the water.  


Tallulah captains the boat.  Unfortunately, she thinks every time I throw a lure, she needs to fetch it.  She's a good pet but horrible fishing partner. I call her the fishmonger. 

Here's a cicada, fortunately they don't bite. 



Here's me with my best friend from 3rd Grade, Mark

Every visit is concluded with a trip to Mr. Twister for some ice-cream. 

Speaking of food, here's some country ham and grits i cooked up.

And just as tasty, a Zebra Cake from Little Debbie's.  Many debates have been waged over which is better Little Debbie or Hostess.  What do you think?

The food has been put to good use as we've shared many dinners such as the one above with friends and family.  Here we are on the patio having dinner with the Doty's and the Walkers.  My friend Chicken (Jeff) is across the table in the orange hat.

Sunset on Watt's Bar