It’s snowing outside! Like the little kid I am, I’m ready to get up and go out to play.

Last night, Alexei and I went outside to prepare for the snow. We actually didn’t have many preparations to do, but ever since I took him out on the deck after dinner a few weeks ago to look at the night lights, he’s taken a liking to playing outside in the freezing cold darkness. Anyhow, he saw me get the snow shovels out of the shed and decided it wasn’t fair for me to have all the fun. We peeked in the windows and saw Mama, put two baseballs in the middle of the yard to get covered with snow, and visited our small park in the side yard.

Why, pray tell, am I up and at ‘em so early on a Saturday morning? The snow woke me up. Of course, it may also have had something to do with the fact that I couldn’t find any warm pajamas to wear last night, so I donned my big red fuzzy-bear. It was too warm for me in there, so I didn’t sleep under the covers. This was all fine and dandy until 20 minutes ago when I woke up shivering.

Back to the snow…on my way home from work last night, I heard on the radio that this snowstorm is the biggest one to hit the DC area since records have been kept. I suppose it’s still a little early to say whether it will fully materialize the way it’s predicted to or not. Still, the snow of the century is something worth getting up early for. Even if all I do is write a blog post, roll over, and go back to sleep.

Speaking of posts, this site gives the appearance of lying fallow. That is true to a certain degree, but at the same time I’ve got an impressive backlog of half-baked posts just waiting for me to spend a little time polishing them up. It’s a drag when life chortles along fast enough that there’s barely time to live it.

Owen baby (as Alexei calls him) is in the process of returning to dreamland. Either that or having a bowel movement. It’s kind of hard to tell — the sounds are the same. He was just a very happy boy for this most recent feeding. I’ll have to check with Anastasia when she gets up, but I think that this is the longest he’s gone between feedings, a whopping 5 hours.

All told, there’s a bit of a silver lining to me at this juncture in time. A month ago, I welcomed my second son, Owen Nikita, to this world. Nearly two months ago, I closed on my first home. Work is interesting, in spite of my perpetual behindness. I’ve got the best helpmate around, and she’s pretty on top of that. Surely, I am blessed. Granted, the upstairs is under construction, I don’t have money for the mortgage yet, the kitchen drain leaks in the basement, insurance may not cover a good junk of Nikita’s birth, and so on and so on. I’m wearing my rose-tinted glasses and plodding forward with a smile on my face (and a gnarly beard on my chin). This blanket of snow is just the icing over it all.

This came through my email account two weeks ago Monday:

Atholton SDA Church Email Notice — February 9, 2009

Jackie Gair, a long-time Atholton member, passed away on Monday morning.

The viewing will be held at the Fleck Funeral Home, 7601 Sandy Spring Road, Laurel, MD this Thursday, February 12, from 12:30 - 1:30 PM. Following this, there will be a graveside service for family and close friends at George Washington Cemetery on Riggs Road in Adelphi, MD. There will be no memorial/funeral service at the Atholton Church.

Please continue to remember the family in prayer during this difficult time.

Thus ends a life.

Now is as good a time as any to finish one of the many blog posts languishing in draft status: link coming when I actually finish it.

Yesterday on the way home from circle time at the library, Alexei and I stopped at a bridge to throw some sticks into the water. We stood there for a good long while and I was mesmerized by the ripples our small sticks made in the stream. Mesmerized is probably the wrong word; fascination is more along the lines of what I felt. Something so simple and natural, but inherently beautiful.

Here is an excerpt from a book I’m in the process of re-reading now.

In karate there is an image that’s used to define the position of perfect readiness: “mind like water.” Imagine throwing a pebble into a still pond. How does the water respond? The answer is, totally appropriate to the force and mass of the input; then it returns to calm. It doesn’t overreact or underreact.

— David Allen

Relevance? Mrs. Gair’s passing is not all that different from Alexei throwing a stick into Sligo Creek. How Mrs. Gair’s life intertwined in that of others seems to parallel how my son’s small stick made a mark on the water. Both were present for a time, changed things around them, and then faded into memory. No doubt Mrs. Gair’s ripples will long be felt by the world through her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so-on.

Jacquelyn J. Gair

Farewell, neighbor. Until one day we meet again where the silver ripples lap on heaven’s shore, goodbye.

My Tuesday began much like any other, with the exception being that I was actually semi-productive. After Mommy and Babuskha went to the library with Alexei, I set down at my workstation and was in a little bit of a groove. I kept checking the time every twenty minutes or so. Then, a few minutes before noon, I closed the curtains and flipped on the tube.

Aretha Franklin was midsong. For probably the next two hours, I stood and watched the inauguration. The formalities were really no different than others I’ve seen, but the crowd (or, rather, the size of it) was pretty amazing. For the duration of the inauguration coverage, I flipped between BET and WMPT. The difference in perspective was refreshing. Probably the wife and mother-in-law could have done with a little less channel flipping, but, hey, it is my TV, right?

The slip up during President Obama’s swearing-in was interesting. Commentators later in the day explained that Chief Justice John Roberts was apologizing for rearranging the words. Of course no cameras were trained on him. [Edit: In a rare, over-cautionary move President Obama has retaken the oath.]

In the fifth grade I remember watching the Clinton inauguration precedings. That was probably the last full inauguration I watched. Somewhat etched in my mind from that inauguration was the Inaugural Poem written and delivered by Maya Angelou. Understandably, I was looking forward to the poem portion of the ceremony this time around. I can’t say that I was thoroughly disappointed; I suppose I need to read the poem for myself at some point to make that decision. It may simply be a case where the composer is not the most qualified conductor. Dr. Elizabeth Alexander is the only person who could write her poem, but far from the best to deliver it. (It appears I’m not the only one to come to this conclusion…)

Poor poet performance complete, the benediction was amazing. Where Dr. Alexander was overcareful with her enunciation to the point of really shooting herself in the leg, Reverend Joseph Lowery threw all pronunciation guides in the toilet and preached his prayer. The prayer really had everything, for me. As he approached the “Amen,” the humorous jab at pigmentation differences really cemented the whole ceremony…until I caught some BET commentary a few moments later. In the words of the BET news-anchor, the opening phrase of the benediction was a direct quote from the Negro National Anthem, Lift Every Voice and Sing. The juxtaposition of the guttural plea from this verse against the entire context in which the prayer was delivered was enough to make me mentally step back and say, “whoa.” For what it is worth, many people took offense at this prayer.

After the MPT coverage completed, they reran a late night interview from a day or two ago with Maya Angelou. She, at least in that interview, appeared to be at the stage in life where eyes are no longer important. I’ve met one other person like that in my life — ehead. The person is talking to you, fully engaged, yet their eyes are closed. Every few minutes when they do open for a gaze, it makes you really notice them. Eyes. They do a body good.

I never did get back into the work groove the day opened with. Some things were accomplished, but not with the speed they should have been. The tube stayed on for awhile longer watching the parade and what have you until some friends popped in around 5pm bearing fresh mushroom pie and not-so-fresh Jelly rings. The pie was delicious, especially given that it was supposedly going to show up at 3pm and I was hungry for it at that point. I thought the jelly rings were tasty too; though shortly after our company left Anastasia went ballistic about them. Well, not the rings themselves, but the worms living in them. Now I never saw a worm, but the eggs or whatever they were were pretty visible. Oh well, a bit of protein never hurt much, right?

On to a cocktail party the neighbors were throwing. We were clearly in the minority as most of the people were proceeding on to an inaugural ball of some sort. Alexei enjoyed playing with their balloons, drawing on the whiteboard, and eating bits of a cookie. He even let a few of the kids hug him goodbye.

Back in our little appointment, I felt drained. I had done virtually nothing all day but didn’t feel like doing anything else. Unfortunately, you can’t just go to bed at 7pm. I bathed the boy while the others ate. Then while Babushka did the dishes and Mommy put Alexei to bed, I flipped on the TV. Not sure what I wanted to watch, I flipped around and found a classic just starting on TCM. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner had just begun. To my amazement, Anastasia and her mom both sat down and watched the remainder of it with me.

There are things that, try as I might, I cannot imagine. One of them is being a black man in America. Reading and associating with educators has helped me realize that yes, President Obama’s feat is extraordinary and well worth the deserved attention it has received, but there is still a long road ahead until We Shall Overcome becomes we overcame. What then is my role in realizing this transition? How can I help? In the short term, the best thing I can do is see that my children and wife learn to see not a black man, but a man.

Recently, the pastor at my church talked about tithing. I haven’t yet this year. What’s that say about me?

Compromise is a basic tenet of life. Yet, in some things, we refuse to compromise. These inflexibles are different for every person. Part of the interestingness of it all is discovering what they are in yourself and others.

And then, if you’re my kind of person, try to get others to seriously confront their stalwart beliefs…you know, to help them fire-test their core values.

Esotericism (yes, I’m aware this is not the correct usage of the word; I like the way it sounds) aside, I’d like to talk about an old adage today. The proof is in the pudding.

I’ve been a Seventh-day Adventist Christian since childhood. Even now, most Sabbath mornings will find me and my young family in church. Since my son is old enough that he doesn’t like sitting quietly for longer than a minute or two at a time, I find myself skipping out on the main part of the service most weeks. Today, however, was unusual in that he decided to sleep during the church service.

Pastor Steven Jencks is a nice enough guy. His strength undoubtedly lies in the sermons he gives. What makes them attractive to me is his fervor — it is evident that he actually believes what he is saying, and, while talking to his congregation, he is also preaching to himself. He knows he isn’t any more perfect than ‘normal’ folk and is unashamed to admit it.

With the economy the way it is, it is no surprise that churches are having a more difficult time paying their bills. As his sermon progressed, Pastor Jencks turned to the topic of church finances. I have yet to find a situation that doesn’t mirror the 80-20 rule, and giving patterns at the church are no exception. My parents have always been uber-involved with church doings and so I have had access to inside information about who contributes and who doesn’t at various times throughout my life. Until a few years ago, I was in the 20-80 side of the equation. Now, I am not.

It is easy enough to say that I’ve got a family and they need to eat and have shelter and all that sort of stuff. Yet the point remains that if I say I am a Christian and am not nice to people, my faith is a joke. In the same way, if I go to church and think churchy thoughts, yet do not give a faithful tithe; I might as well have stayed at home and watched a smutty movie. Cognitive dissonance is a powerful force which can either motive or embitter a person. Which route will I take?

As a closing thought, consider the following. If an obese person really wants to lose weight, s/he’ll tell friends and family that s/he wants to lose weight. The positive peer pressure this creates may effect a change on said person’s weight. Tithe has always been portrayed to me like voting - both are personal business between you and your God/government. There is no need to discuss them because others may gain a glimpse into the real you.

Why did I make my thoughts part of the public domain?