Another Title

I was standing in a friend’s kitchen the other day when she told me that I was a Renaissance Man. I was intrigued and asked for an explanation hoping I could learn where she was coming from. A few words were expressed and nothing else was mentioned after that conversation. That was three days ago and it’s still on the top of my mind. What makes a man in today’s society a Renaissance Man? After searching off and on the last few days I came across a few good articles this morning as I sat buried in the noisy crowd of Starbucks....or fourbucks.

A Renaissance Man is created by exposing himself to a variety of activities rather than just one activity. Though one activity ought to enrich a man’s life it is not to impoverish it by requiring such a commitment to it that other activities go unnoticed or unchallenged in life. It is valuable to cultivate great talent and bring it as close as possible to its full potential. Thomas Jefferson is one of America’s most notable men who can easily be called a Renaissance Man due to his wide range of interests such as education, economics, inventing, public service and writing.

After reading up on some great examples of such men I began to ponder my ability or lack thereof in balancing my life. I do have a wide spectrum of interets but each day I seem overwhelmed with daily ‘to do’ lists I try to complete. These various tasks I try to accomplish with my perfectionism. Some could say my perfectionism gets in the way and maybe this morning I’m possibly agreeing with these so called finger pointers. I agree with them after reading about such men and how they balance their interests making them a better person as a whole. However, this recent educational research has also helped me decide that yes it is time for me to look for a new job. I’m in a great place right now but I don’t want to settle on one thing…I’ve been here long enough. It’s time for me to move on and find a new challenge. I need to step out of my warmth and into something cold to wake me up.

Now, if only I could decide on what I want to do in my next career. I have a whole list of things I want to do or become. Where do I begin? It’s time for me to keep expand my knowledge and continue being a Renaissance Man.

Full Circle

I pulled up to my local nieghborhood gas station the other night needing to top off my tank with some overpriced unleaded fuel. With my heavy coat and Japanese scarf keeping me warm I started the pump before deciding to run in and get some cash out of the ATM. I needed cash for something going on the next day, plus the temperature was below freezing and I needed the warmth of the mini-mart that sat across the lot.

As I approached the front of the mini-mart he was there in all his glory begging for 85 to 90-cents. With barely a coat hanging on him and a gas can in his left hand I thought it was an odd amount to be asking for. I cut him short with the same story I have given him before, many times before in fact. “I don’t carry cash sir, only plastic,” I responded and continued on inside the brightly lit store.

I slid down the candy isle then past the chips and pretzel stand before I stood at the ATM. I was a bit apprehensive to get some cash out considering I just denied the stranger outside the dirty windows his request for less than a dollar. However, I proceeded to carry on with my transaction when the chime of the front door rang. I glanced over to see a cleaned up gentleman walk in and I was slightly relieved it wasn’t the stranger outside. I didn’t want him to see me there in all my glory feeling guilty for denying him something so simple. I stood there staring out the front windows trying to see if the man was outside as I reached down to grab my twenties out of the machine. It was freezing outside with the fog laying low on the street and I was shivering with my layered clothes on. I decided right there that I could break my habit and for once give this stranger a dollar or two. He simply asked for less than that and maybe for once I could hand over more than that. With the cash in my hand I began to think of the scripture that states, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” Jesus says this in one of his parables when he talks about needing to be fed, clothed, invited in, etc.

I stepped up to the front counter asking the pale teenage-looking cashier to break one of my twenties and to be sure to give me five ones among that. Reaching up he handed me my change as I put three ones in my coat pocket and secured the rest in my wallet that I placed inside my coat. Though the empty gas container was in the stranger’s left hand I assumed he wanted cash for some drugs or alcohol. At this point in the freezing night I didn’t care what he wanted it for. If it meant a drink that would keep him warm then I wanted him to partake. If it meant he could step inside somewhere warm to get something inside a store then I wanted him to. I don’t ever give to anyone who begs me, but there are times I’ve wanted to hand over my change to those beggars whose signs show honesty. The ‘Will Work For Food’ sign doesn’t make me believer, but the “Need Money For Alcohol” does and sometimes I want to give them 50-cents because they are being honest for what they are begging for. However, I usually keep my hands in my pocket, nose in the air and continue walking past those that beg in my city.

I proceeded out the front door feeling the freezing air hit my face as I looked over to where the beggar had been standing earlier. The sidewalk was empty. I scanned the entire parking lot and caught a glimpse of one older lady filling up her Ford one pump over from my car. My right hand held onto the three bucks in my pocket but I felt it ease up once I realized he was gone. I felt empty for a second and slightly disappointed in myself for not acting sooner as I walked back to my car. After topping off my tank I slid into my front seat and started my car as I turned the heat up to high. I continued scanning the parking lot hoping to see this man walk back into the well-lit area as I put my car in drive. I exited the parking lot wondering what happened to this man thinking maybe someone else helped him out.

I had dinner with a good friend last night at a local neighborhood establishment. After an hour or so of conversing and filling up our stomachs we said our goodbyes and parted our ways. As I walked down the steps into the parking lot where my car sat I was approached by this same beggar from a few nights earlier. Looking just as frail and torn up as he was a few nights ago he asked if I was interested in buying some weed from him. Shaking my head in disbelief that I ran into him again I walked past him and said, “I don’t carry cash sir, only plastic.”

Are you serious?

I've been in the car for four straight days.
I have driven over 34 hours the last four days.
I've been in the car with four girls this entire time

I have been asked about my first kiss, most embarassing moment, former crushes and other girlie things they like talk about in a car.
I have listened to many love songs.

I have driven over ice, in snow, under heavy rain and thru constant traffic.

I'm stuck in a hole-in-the wall motel room due to weather.
I'm at my wit's end and and can't wait to be home.
It can't come soon enough.

I need to get home just to do something man-like.
I need to grill my dinner.
I need to turn on ESPN.
I need to burp outloud.

I'm supposed to be back on the road for work in four more days.

Memoirs, cont'd

If you're just now joining this story, please skip this post and read the previous one to catch up.
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Some time had passed that afternoon as things began to settle down and it was easy to see, at this point, that not too much happened in our house. Maybe the intruder was after something specific and he/she couldn’t find it at this time. No matter what, we were safe and unharmed in this event. If anything I was happy to have my mom home to entertain me or cook a snack for me while I played Lego’s up in my room.

Within an hour or two it was time to pick up my brother and sister from their respective schools as neither one of them rode the big yellow bus. Instead they rode in the big yellow van my parents drove around town. When first bought, this van was charcoal gray. But in the brilliant minds of my parents they had it painted banana yellow for some reason I will never understand. Anyone who knew the Thomas family knew when we were driving down their block. Our bright banana-yellow van always made a statement whether we wanted it to or not.

To this day I don’t necessarily recall picking up my brother, but when it came time to pick up my sister over at the high school campus he and I sat in the front of the van while my mom hurriedly walked into the main hallway. Wanting to tell my brother everything that truly happened in the robbery I decided to keep my mouth shut and silently sat staring out the front windshield. We sat there waiting for my mother and sister to reappear and join us in the yellow van as we would head home for the evening. Over dinner we would possibly discuss the details of the robbery that had happened only hours earlier all the while I would sit pretending I knew nothing. I would work hard at making the perfect shock-face, and offer to double check my room making sure no one had taken any of my belongings. I mean what could they possibly want of mine? My oversized Batman statue I won at the local video-rental store? No, maybe they wanted my large quartz crystal rock that I envisioned was going to make me rich someday. I believed it was worth a lot, so much so that it sat on top of my rabbit skin that I bought somewhere in those years as a child. Expensive things are surrounded by such lush materials such as rabbit fur.

Eventually my sister walked out to the van where my brother and I waited and we wondered why she walked out solo. Something seemed awry if that meant having my mom stay in the hallway. My sister climbed into the yellow van joining me on the front bench seat. Curious to know where our mother was I asked point blank, “Where’s mom?” My sister went on to tell my brother and I that mom was inside talking with the principal. Not waiting any longer I shouted out to my siblings that I in fact was the person who robbed the house. “I wanted mom to come home and so I faked the robbery” I exclaimed. My sister dramatically responded with an “Oh Great!” while I quickly regretted opening my mouth so quickly. My sister proceeded to tell us that she skipped school that afternoon when her boyfriend (whom the parents didn’t like) came to the edge of campus to pick her up. Unfortunately the principal saw my sister in action leaving campus and waited for her to come back when he confronted her that afternoon, that is when she returned for the last hour class.

Inside the locker-filled hallway my mom patiently stood talking with the principal learning that my sister was indeed rebelling against their knowledge and skipping school. Thoughts began to fly in her head as she realized that it must have been my sister and her boyfriend who came home that afternoon and robbed the house. For the security of ‘comfort and love’ my sister let her boyfriend take cherished items from the house, she possibly thought.

Meanwhile inside the yellow van my sister explained her day of skipping school and now that she knows I staged a robbery in the house my mother will instantly put two and two together. My sister began to lose sight at the end of the tunnel. Nothing was going as planned when she woke up that morning. Being the skinny blonde-hair, buck-toothed freckled face boy that I was, I saw the two points match up and began to worry about the huge problem I possibly caused. I would never want to hurt my sister. She was someone I loved and looked up to. When she feathered her hair back in the mirror I would quickly follow suit. When she posted the sign on her bedroom door that read, “Cool Calm and Collected People Only Allowed” I craved to learn what it meant so I could be in her room. Years earlier when she planned to runaway from home and go live with the Puerto Rican boy band ‘Menudo’ I too was going, just to be with her. It was there in the car, on the cold champagne-colored pleather bench seat that I started getting worried for my own sake. I was about to get in trouble and face severe punishment.

The ride home was uneventful as my mother was let down by my sisters actions, my sister was scared for her life, my brother was clueless and I was debating how I would slowly return the stolen items. I began to make a plan to return each item to their proper place without anyone knowing they were misplaced for a few hours. Somehow over the course of that evening my sister ended up talking with my parents for what seemed like forever as she experienced the usual parental discipline for her actions. I never heard another word regarding the robbery and kept it to myself for years. I don’t know what guardian angels were watching over me that night, but they definitely earned their wings…in fact their wings were dipped in gold and outlined with diamonds from Tiffany’s I’m sure.

Several years later on a cold and sunny December afternoon my family gathered at a local favorite restaurant here in Oklahoma City to celebrate my graduation from college the next afternoon. My sister had driven two hours to join us, while my parents and brother had flown in for the festivities. It was over that lunch that I decided to bring up the whole story and find out why I truly never got in trouble for it. To everyone’s amazement my parents never did know it was me that robbed the house that lonely afternoon. It was 10-years later and we sat around this table as I learned that after all these years my sister stood up for me and took the blame. It took some time to settle into their minds, but my parents laughed about it as I went into detail everything I could remember and why I did it.

Over the course of the past 10-years a secret remained among a brother and sister buried deep within our lives. Over the course of the past 10-years my parents would pray that I have a child that is just like me. Over the course of the past 10-years I have prayed I don’t…..and this is my reason why.

Memoirs of a Theif

I was able to come home last night. I haven’t been in my own bed, taken a real shower, or eaten my own food for the last 13 days. It’s such a relief to walk into my own place and throw everything on the floor as I land on my bed ready to crash. It’s the relief that I don’t have to pick up after anyone but myself, nor do I have a deadline to do it by. Instead I can keep my suitcase on the floor opened with clothes spilling out of it, while my shoes lay hopelessly on the floor rug next to it waiting to be organized and placed on their shelves. A few days ago you could walk into my home and feel it empty and cold, but now you would see it looking like it’s been robbed as things are thrown everywhere.

The image of things thrown everywhere is something I associate being robbed with. The home I lived in till age nine had been robbed several times growing up and I have never forgotten how much of a mess the thieves left the place in each time. Drawers hung loose from the dresser with clothes hanging out of them, bedspreads had been disheveled as things were thrown on the bed and large piles formed of anything that possibly got in the way of the intruders before they exited my childhood home. I don’t recall what they made away with, but whether their hands were full or not, our hearts were empty and destroyed feeling a part of us were stolen and invaded each time.

A few years later and 2000 miles away my family lived in a different home….a much larger home in a much smaller town. My world was changed as I had to make new friends and experience public school for the first time in my life. Life was simple back then as each day I exited the large yellow bus that dropped neighborhood students off in front of my house. Usually my mom was there to greet me as I walked into the house ready to play for the remainder of the afternoon until dinner was ready for the family. There were times, however, that my mom would substitute at the local junior high school and I would come home to a large empty house. It was those days I didn’t particularly enjoy. If she had to work that day I was asked to call down to her school and notify the secretary that I made it home safely as she would pass the word on to my mother.

One lonely afternoon I came home knowing that it was a day to call my mom down at her school. However, I didn’t really want to stay home and be alone that afternoon. I wanted her to come home and entertain me like all mothers should do with their 10-year old sons. It was then that things started spinning in my head. How exactly could I get my mom to come home and play with me? I proceeded up the stairs to survey the bedrooms and see what I could do to stage a robbery in our house. I mean come on; I vividly remember what robberies look like from our years living in the other house. Walking around from room to room I debated what I should pick up and hide in my room pretending it had been stolen. As any 10-year old can say, go after your older brothers soccer trophies. After all they’re real gold on top right? Those solitary men in action are forever solidified in gold. So off the shelf they went and under my bed they calmly laid until I could carry out the full plan. Next I shuffled thru my father’s closet and took a few of his Hawaiian shirts. They seemed valuable to me as I believed they actually came from his Hawaii trip that was taken years earlier. My father seemed to like those shirts so I figured he would be devastated if he saw they were missing. Lastly came some of my mom’s jewelry. Not knowing what was significant or not I just grabbed some and hid them in my closet. Before I could place the hurried call to my mom that we had been robbed I messed up my parent’s bed and tore open a few dresser drawers leaving plenty of clothes hanging out. Just like the thieves did in the former home.

Letting a few minutes pass I placed the call and told the calm lady who answered the phone that I needed to speak to my mom who was substituting that day. It was an emergency. I honestly don’t recall if someone went to get my mom or if she had to call me back but nonetheless she quickly packed up and came to my rescue. With heavy footsteps she surveyed the entire house top to bottom seeing what had been stolen. She asked many questions to which I frantically answered pretending I didn’t know a thing. We walked thru my bedroom and my sister’s bedroom noticing that nothing had been touched. We walked into my brother’s room and I pointed out, “I think his trophies are missing!” We paced into my parent’s room to see the mess the robber had made of their room and took note of any valuables.

Now for those not used to being robbed it is often that you have no idea what has been taken until you think of that specific item one day and go find it only to come up empty handed. I knew I was safe for the time being that we couldn't pinpoint too many things missing at the current moment.

After surveying the house for some time my mom had decided that the intruder had possibly gone away empty handed himself. I mean....themselves. At this point we didn’t know if it was one person or two, much less a male or female. Only two bedrooms had been touched, and not a single thing downstairs was missing like the television, VCR or even the microwave. Of course back in those years everything was much larger in size compared to today's electronics. Who in the world, back then, would be able to carry out a microwave or television when in a hurry is what I've always wondered.

To be continued.....

The Doctor Is In

To make the several hours of sitting in my grandpa's hospital room go by I decided to be creative. It took me two days of begging the nurse to get me some doctors tools to play with, but she finally caved in. So for the seven hours I sat in his room yesterday I looked inside ears, and noses and got addicted to SUDUKO. I did six 'easy' level games and thought I could master the next level up, but I failed. So I went back to the easy level and did a few more. I never feel smart, but yesterday I was proud of myself for actually having the patience to figure out the strategy and win a few games. Anyone else have ideas to make the long days of sitting in a hospital room go by?