Just before Christmas someone asked me, "What are you most looking forward to in 2020?" Without missing a beat I replied, "Saying good-bye to 2019."
Some good-byes are heart-wrenching and agonizingly painful. Some are healing and cathartic. There should be different words for the different layers of good-bye. On second thought, I guess there are. I should have said, "Saying good riddance to 2019."
But that's not even quite right. Good things happened in 2019. Many good things happened in 2019. I filled a personalized calendar for 2020 with hundreds of those fantastic memories, and I will enjoy reliving every one of them as the pages of the year turn.
But 2019 is attached to three words that weigh it down with a ferocity that prevents the buoyancy of those good memories from claiming the year as their own. Meniscus. Cancer. Pedophilia.
The meniscus might not seem in good company with two powerhouse words like Cancer and Pedophilia; but, oddly enough, its diagnosis unleashed some of the year's most powerful sobs...of joy!.? Since college, my left knee has periodically reminded me that basketball exacts a price. In the 2010s, it began screaming at me that falling on ice exacts a higher price. And in 2019, it went on strike and made its case known 24-hours a day, refusing to fully bend or straighten, or walk down stairs or inclines, shrieking its displeasure with the persistence of a toddler. It's not like it had been ignored. It was pampered with multiple physical therapists, an orthopedic surgeon, an MRI, and more therapy, ten years of it. Everyone, except the MRI, saying meniscus. Come to find out, the MRI in 2012 had agreed with those experts but someone reading it did not. So, I sat in my vehicle sobbing last Tuesday as the words "torn meniscus" confirmed that I wasn't crazy and gave me hope that there could be an end to the pain and immobility. Even so, it was pain I had resigned myself to bear and live with. In 2020, I have hope that I may not have to.
Cancer was a bigger, bully of a word. I expected it to envelope my world and shut me off from my normalcy, ushering me into an unrecognizable and dark hall of gloom. But that's not what cancer did to me. Instead, it took me into a world of the Zootopia sloths. Everything moved in slow motion. A lump on my neck in early May, an ultrasound in late May, a biopsy in late June, an all-clear diagnosis in early July, a wait-a-minute-something-looks-fishy addendum in late July, all the while hearing "you can just wait and repeat the test in 6 months". I was the rabbit pushing for each next step as the cancer world moved in slow motion imperceivably turning the pages of the daily calendar. Surgery to remove half of my thyroid in late August. Finally, the word cancer in September. Oh, and by the way, it was angio-invasive (entered the blood stream), but just a little bit. It sounded like, "we dropped some cow manure in your scrambled eggs, but just a little bit." New doctor, new city, cancer specialists, another surgery, hormone replacements, tired, tired, tired. The slow motion and the time dragging and the tired and the recovery were the trials. The Cancer felt safe, it was in God's hands. The suffering came from all of the other side effects. But, those effects promise to subside, and the cancer numbers, which are in check, will be something we slothfully monitor for the rest of my days. My "follicular, angio-invasive thyroid cancer" is something I can bear and am resigned to live with. 2020 gives me hope for complete eradication of the hints of straggling cells.
But then, as the year drew to a close, Pedophilia reared its most ugly head. I was introduced to this beast at the too-young age of 10, brought to me by one to whom I owed my very existence and who should have been protecting me from the very thing with which he tormented me. 1972 was a decade or so short of public awareness and stranger-danger education. Mine was no stranger, only danger. My prepubescent mind did what it could to sort out the confusion by compartmentalizing it in the "well, that part of childhood really stinks" and moved on. By the time I understood that was the wrong compartment, the danger was past and my silence seemed to be all that remained. Tragically, the danger wasn't past. Thankfully, braver-and-more-informed-than-me, young souls found their voices, spoke up, and pointed fingers. He served his first sentence in 1987. Thirty-three years later our family history is littered with lies, incarcerations, divorce, broken promises, deceptions, years of intentional separation, accusations, greed, and pain, As it is prone to do, history repeated itself, playing the worn out tune of destruction, more of the same. But something seemed different. We thought a corner had been turned and remorse seemed real as his 70th birthday was spent behind bars. We thought it truly was a catalyst to a new beginning. Wishful thinking? We began to build new memories and attempted to find some right in the wreckage of all the wrong. It felt like we were moving, creeping sometimes, in the right direction. And then it was Christmastime, 2019. Christmas shouldn't be spent hoping your father's cancer diagnosis is bad enough to give him a very short life expectancy because the pain of more hurt to another child (NOTE--no relation to us) just feels like too much to bear. But that's what the last days of 2019 held for us, my three siblings and me, more of the same. More of the dreaded, unrelenting same. For me, however, this time, finally, there was a difference. Unknowingly, there had been a power he held over me that kept me silent on certain levels. It's not that I didn't talk about it, I did. I faced it, I moved on from it. I even forgave it. But, calling the police to report the Pedophile felt like I was finally exercising power over the perpetrator, over the evil monster of criminality against innocence. I was finally doing what was right to protect others from his narcissistic cruelty. That phone call changed me. It wasn't vindictive or vengeful. It was responsible. Pedophilia is something I can not bear and I refuse to live with it. This is worth fighting against. 2020 brings hope that he is stopped and that our story empowers someone else to use their voice to stop an injustice.
So, good riddance to those parts of the last year and decade. I'm glad to have it in my rear-view mirror. But thanks be to the God of heaven and earth who has promised me that those trials will indeed become fertilizer for my soul. Dung has it uses, not in our eggs, but given time, it will decompose and bring nourishment and strength to living things, to MY life. I'm already experiencing the upside of some of the downsides and look forward to more life coming from the dung. I hope in the Lord of Hope who has suffered all things that he might comfort me. 2020 gives me hope that His work is not done and that, even out of the dung, He can bring New Life!
Happy New Year!!
Thursday, January 9, 2020
Monday, July 30, 2018
Uganda 2018
So, why did we go to Norway AND Uganda this summer? It's a fair question, especially when you understand that a year ago a trip to Uganda wasn't anywhere close to being on our radar. A trip to Norway? Yes, that trip was set into motion in May 2017 while Christoffer was visiting us. It seemed like a good time in the lives of our three children at home and it also worked with his family. We only had to set the dates and duration.
Then in September, a family visited our church and Keith took them for an all day boat ride while Lisa and I were at a ladies camp retreat. The boating conversation turned to missions and Keith was introduced to New Hope Uganda, a place his newfound friend had visited three times. That's a pretty serious commitment. The information was intriguing, orphan care with children living in family groups instead of dormitories, bringing the fatherhood of God to the fatherless. We wanted to learn more. Fast forward 10 weeks and Keith had communicated with the ministry via email, in person, and we had become sponsors. We were able to have a personal connection with the students and family parents, exchanging letters and receiving school reports. After Keith's in person meeting they finally answered his relentless flow of questions with, "You just have to come and see it for yourself." It made sense to Keith to combine it with the trip to Norway to cut out one of the legs of travel and to minimize the jet lag (Norway and Uganda are only an hour different).
So, here I am with a video slide production on our unexpected trip to Uganda. The contrasts between the two countries could hardly have been more stark. Uganda--land locked, impoverished, and still struggling to rise up from a Civil War, the brutal devastation of the Joseph Kony era, and the ravages of the AIDs epidemic. We didn't have to look hard to see evidence of the hopelessness that inevitably comes from any one of those situations, let alone all three in the last 4 decades. Norway--mountainous, seafaring, and people living in what sociologists call one of the happiest, wealthiest, most stable countries in the world. We enjoyed the irony of the weather however, travelling all the way from Wisconsin (N 46 degree latitude) and Norway (we were as far north as 63 degrees latitude) to the equator to cool off! The temperatures in Uganda were milder, day and night.
We began our Uganda trip in Kobwin, a new location that invites a peek at what the original work at Kasana (near Kiwoko) looked like in its infancy 30 years ago. Kobwin has one family group, Kasana has 7. Kobwin has a primary school, a one room guesthouse, and a one room medical clinic. Kasana has a primary and secondary school, a clinic building, an institute for gospel training (all staff attend the 20 weeks course that focuses heavily on personal spiritual understand and cross cultural ministry; but it's also open to others), a pastor training institute, and guest housing that held over 40 for a few of the days we were there (different teams overlapped one another and stayed for varying lengths of time). We had the opportunity to tour all of these places as well as the local hospital and the New Hope run radio station.
We loved seeing how caring for the children did not end at food, clothing, and shelter, or at education. The goal is to mentor them as any father does his child, to lead them and guide them in the paths of the Lord as they press on with life. We met staff members who grew up as "sons and daughters" and are now committed to giving back in the same way they received so much. We met a child who is adopted into a family, but started life in a public latrine, dumped there with the umbilical cord still attached. Now this child is treasured. Not all of the children served at New Hope live in the family homes. If a child has a safe place with a family member but needs assistance they are brought in for school and access to medical care. The pastoral staff visits the family in the village and seeks to care for the child where they are, which includes loving their family (whether it is a single mom, grandparents, or aunt or uncle).
I begin the video with text explanations, but once again the text operation quit working and would not let me add text. Some things and people you will see without explanation are Murchison Falls, Mulu and Lucy (house parents who came with us on the safari--it was their first trip away for three days in their 13 years of marriage and they care for 23 children), Junior (a boy who advanced from the special needs program to the regular classroom), hanging bird nests, a Civil War memorial where skulls that were once piled on the roadsides are buried, tomato harvesting, the Secondary school chemistry lab and kitchen, Lucy's Ugandan meals she made for us, and our final airport stop and customs photos.
What I did not get many photos of (except for the group picture with Keith) were the staff members. We spent hours and hours with the Ugandan staff as well as the foreign missionaries from the US and the UK. We were welcomed by generous, caring, people who love the Lord, love children, and serve with very full hearts. We were so busy enjoying their company that we just didn't think to take pictures! Thank you to the McFarlands, the Sinklers, the Dendys, the Brittons, the Mulus, Susan, Brenda, Joanna, Tony, Fred, Simon, and more I'm sure. Lastly, thank you to Uncle Jonnes and Auntie Gertude Bakimi (I copied a photo from FB) who are co-founders along with Jay and Vicki Dangers (who we missed by 2 days). We are enjoying spreading the good news about what God is doing at New Hope!
Then in September, a family visited our church and Keith took them for an all day boat ride while Lisa and I were at a ladies camp retreat. The boating conversation turned to missions and Keith was introduced to New Hope Uganda, a place his newfound friend had visited three times. That's a pretty serious commitment. The information was intriguing, orphan care with children living in family groups instead of dormitories, bringing the fatherhood of God to the fatherless. We wanted to learn more. Fast forward 10 weeks and Keith had communicated with the ministry via email, in person, and we had become sponsors. We were able to have a personal connection with the students and family parents, exchanging letters and receiving school reports. After Keith's in person meeting they finally answered his relentless flow of questions with, "You just have to come and see it for yourself." It made sense to Keith to combine it with the trip to Norway to cut out one of the legs of travel and to minimize the jet lag (Norway and Uganda are only an hour different).
So, here I am with a video slide production on our unexpected trip to Uganda. The contrasts between the two countries could hardly have been more stark. Uganda--land locked, impoverished, and still struggling to rise up from a Civil War, the brutal devastation of the Joseph Kony era, and the ravages of the AIDs epidemic. We didn't have to look hard to see evidence of the hopelessness that inevitably comes from any one of those situations, let alone all three in the last 4 decades. Norway--mountainous, seafaring, and people living in what sociologists call one of the happiest, wealthiest, most stable countries in the world. We enjoyed the irony of the weather however, travelling all the way from Wisconsin (N 46 degree latitude) and Norway (we were as far north as 63 degrees latitude) to the equator to cool off! The temperatures in Uganda were milder, day and night.
We began our Uganda trip in Kobwin, a new location that invites a peek at what the original work at Kasana (near Kiwoko) looked like in its infancy 30 years ago. Kobwin has one family group, Kasana has 7. Kobwin has a primary school, a one room guesthouse, and a one room medical clinic. Kasana has a primary and secondary school, a clinic building, an institute for gospel training (all staff attend the 20 weeks course that focuses heavily on personal spiritual understand and cross cultural ministry; but it's also open to others), a pastor training institute, and guest housing that held over 40 for a few of the days we were there (different teams overlapped one another and stayed for varying lengths of time). We had the opportunity to tour all of these places as well as the local hospital and the New Hope run radio station.
We loved seeing how caring for the children did not end at food, clothing, and shelter, or at education. The goal is to mentor them as any father does his child, to lead them and guide them in the paths of the Lord as they press on with life. We met staff members who grew up as "sons and daughters" and are now committed to giving back in the same way they received so much. We met a child who is adopted into a family, but started life in a public latrine, dumped there with the umbilical cord still attached. Now this child is treasured. Not all of the children served at New Hope live in the family homes. If a child has a safe place with a family member but needs assistance they are brought in for school and access to medical care. The pastoral staff visits the family in the village and seeks to care for the child where they are, which includes loving their family (whether it is a single mom, grandparents, or aunt or uncle).
I begin the video with text explanations, but once again the text operation quit working and would not let me add text. Some things and people you will see without explanation are Murchison Falls, Mulu and Lucy (house parents who came with us on the safari--it was their first trip away for three days in their 13 years of marriage and they care for 23 children), Junior (a boy who advanced from the special needs program to the regular classroom), hanging bird nests, a Civil War memorial where skulls that were once piled on the roadsides are buried, tomato harvesting, the Secondary school chemistry lab and kitchen, Lucy's Ugandan meals she made for us, and our final airport stop and customs photos.
What I did not get many photos of (except for the group picture with Keith) were the staff members. We spent hours and hours with the Ugandan staff as well as the foreign missionaries from the US and the UK. We were welcomed by generous, caring, people who love the Lord, love children, and serve with very full hearts. We were so busy enjoying their company that we just didn't think to take pictures! Thank you to the McFarlands, the Sinklers, the Dendys, the Brittons, the Mulus, Susan, Brenda, Joanna, Tony, Fred, Simon, and more I'm sure. Lastly, thank you to Uncle Jonnes and Auntie Gertude Bakimi (I copied a photo from FB) who are co-founders along with Jay and Vicki Dangers (who we missed by 2 days). We are enjoying spreading the good news about what God is doing at New Hope!
Norway 2018
We had an amazing opportunity to spend two weeks in the beautiful country of Norway visiting our Norwegian son/exchange student, Christoffer, and his wonderful family. They were our most gracious hosts for meals, travels, hikes, and a truly memory-making experience. We started in their home town of Rakkestad and drove as far north as Rongay on the coast, down through and around the fjords to Bergen, back through Oslo and home again.
Our entourage of nine also spent several days with my third-cousin Tove, her husband Jon, and son Henrick at their cabin. They took all of us in and treated us like family, which some of us are, albeit exceedingly distantly related (Tove and I share great-great grandparents Fingal and Berte Halvorsen, both born in the early half of the 19th Century). Tove and I hadn't even seen one another in 45 years. We hope to return the favor and get their family to the US sometime soon! We were also blessed by cousin Sonja (Tove's sister, who I also had not seen in 45 years) who had all 12 of us over for dinner at her beautiful farmhouse near Stryn! I don't know if all Norwegians are known for their wonderful hospitality but we were certainly treated to it everywhere we went.
I put together a photo show to sum up this amazing trip to the Land of the Midnight Sun (seriously, the sunset took place around midnight and before the pink could fade from the northwest sky it shifted slightly east and became the sunrise. Incredible!
My text option gave out early in the process so you kind of have to figure it out yourself.
My text option gave out early in the process so you kind of have to figure it out yourself.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Ken and Nancy's 60th Anniversary
60 Years
6 Children
36 Grandchildren
34 Great Grandchildren
30 Weddings
76 Births
0 Funerals
These are but the cold logistics. The beauty of the life is in the faces and smiles and the hearts and memories.
This is the life.
If anyone doubted the heartfelt appreciation and sincere feeling of unworthiness for the outpouring of love expressed to Grandma, you needed only to look at her teary eyes throughout the entire evening. She was overwhelmed.
Would this be a true family gathering without a football? Shane and Owen got away with it for as long as they could....or until Grandma caught on.
6 Children
36 Grandchildren
34 Great Grandchildren
30 Weddings
76 Births
0 Funerals
These are but the cold logistics. The beauty of the life is in the faces and smiles and the hearts and memories.
This is the life.
Children playing on the floor
Neil
Kent
Karissa (Ellen's daughter) and Lauren
Marty
Keith and Nicole, Joey with Carson and Cameron
Lisa and Ellen
Brett and Ryan
Grandma and Papa
The "older generation"
Renee (Ellen's daughter)
Opening the book, created by all of the children and grandchildren with their well wishes
Ed and Robin Foster (and Nehemiah) in the foreground with Dana, David, and Claire in the background.
Keira (Joey's daughter) with Elizabeth (the Fosters granddaughter)
Would this be a true family gathering without a football? Shane and Owen got away with it for as long as they could....or until Grandma caught on.
The youngest grandsons, Gabe and Zach, with Benjamin (Ellen's son)
Dana and David
Kelly's family (minus Marty and Mark)
The original family: Kenny, Kyle, Kevin, Keith, Kelly, and Kennan
With spouses: Cindy, Jodi, Pat, Cindy, and Marty (missing Katie)
Ken and Nancy/Daddy and Mama/Papa and Grandma with almost all of the guests who attended the reception.
Thursday, June 1, 2017
Bryce and Audrey's Video Montage
I love that couples do these videos I love the story they tell of their individual lives and families blending into their new life and family together.
I don't love that it makes me cry, but it does. Every time.
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
To My Young Adults, thanks for growing up and moving on
I just read a surprising statistic this morning: according to a Trulia analysis 40% of Americans ages 18 to 34 were living with their parents, siblings, or other relative in 2015.
I am left speechless by this percentage, yet I'm also left with SO many thoughts swirling around this reality. I choose not to voice most of them, but to consider--gratefully, thankfully, and proudly--the absence of my eight children in that range from the 40%. (I need to post this soon, because in a few months I'll have one in that range, 18 but with a year of high school to go.)
The upper reaches of the 18 to 34 would be the most likely to have gained independence and you five 26-32 year-olds are all caring for families and, as anyone would hope and expect, self-supporting. But you next three, you're the "in between" age range. You're not kids, not parents, not homeowners and maybe not a lot of things--maybe not married, maybe not out of school, and maybe not settled in a career or even your part of the world yet. You three are voted "most likely to be adults still living at home". But you're not.
I had two fabulous weekends to remind me how wonderful and very rewarding it is to see your kids turn into grown ups.
The first weekend was with Shane and Claire, (enjoying a girls weekend away with Lisa) and being the recipients of their warm hospitality. They're juggling a lot--marriage, school, sports, a home, pursuits of medical school, and hosting family with relaxed smiles. They make their share of sacrifices (imagine Shane's 6'7" frame on a moped in all kinds of weather) but they're working hard, and taking responsibility, and they're shining!
We were able to watch a couple of basketball games, too. College basketball hasn't ended up being all that Shane had hoped it would be, on a number of levels. Disappointment is hard to take, but it's even harder to watch when it's served to your kids. The pride, though, in seeing him handle it well, turn it into a positive experience, and grow from that experience has been tremendous. Even so, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to see him flourish in a hard fought win over the number one team in their conference. Shane played a big role in defending the inside game against two opponents that Lisa and I nicknamed Thing One and Thing Two. It was a joy to see his huge smile and watch him really enjoy the game he's loved for so long.
I am left speechless by this percentage, yet I'm also left with SO many thoughts swirling around this reality. I choose not to voice most of them, but to consider--gratefully, thankfully, and proudly--the absence of my eight children in that range from the 40%. (I need to post this soon, because in a few months I'll have one in that range, 18 but with a year of high school to go.)
The upper reaches of the 18 to 34 would be the most likely to have gained independence and you five 26-32 year-olds are all caring for families and, as anyone would hope and expect, self-supporting. But you next three, you're the "in between" age range. You're not kids, not parents, not homeowners and maybe not a lot of things--maybe not married, maybe not out of school, and maybe not settled in a career or even your part of the world yet. You three are voted "most likely to be adults still living at home". But you're not.
I had two fabulous weekends to remind me how wonderful and very rewarding it is to see your kids turn into grown ups.
The first weekend was with Shane and Claire, (enjoying a girls weekend away with Lisa) and being the recipients of their warm hospitality. They're juggling a lot--marriage, school, sports, a home, pursuits of medical school, and hosting family with relaxed smiles. They make their share of sacrifices (imagine Shane's 6'7" frame on a moped in all kinds of weather) but they're working hard, and taking responsibility, and they're shining!
We were able to watch a couple of basketball games, too. College basketball hasn't ended up being all that Shane had hoped it would be, on a number of levels. Disappointment is hard to take, but it's even harder to watch when it's served to your kids. The pride, though, in seeing him handle it well, turn it into a positive experience, and grow from that experience has been tremendous. Even so, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to see him flourish in a hard fought win over the number one team in their conference. Shane played a big role in defending the inside game against two opponents that Lisa and I nicknamed Thing One and Thing Two. It was a joy to see his huge smile and watch him really enjoy the game he's loved for so long.
The next weekend event was a surprise trip with Keith to Georgia to celebrate Troy's birthday. It was our first trip to his new home in the southeast and, after he got past the utter shock of his Mom standing at his front door (accomplice Bryce had set up the ruse) he showed us around. He's made a marvelously practical choice for his living space and needed to give no typical bachelor apologies as he showed us around (OK, maybe one apology). I love to watch the unfolding of adulthood and see the results of dreams, plans, and trial and error all come together. Troy's confidence knows no bounds!
The surprise continued when Bryce schemed with the restaurant host to take the place of our wait staff and deliver Troy's dessert. Troy was in disbelief as an inappropriately friendly "waiter" leaned from behind him over his shoulder with the dessert and announced, in a heavy accent, "Hello my name is Fronk and I have come to serve you the double chococate...." His laughter was genuine, but it wasn't until Bryce started making up words that he turned around and took a good look at this weird waiter. There's almost nothing better for a mom than seeing her sons genuinely euphoric to see one another.
Bryce, still a teenager, and absolutely the most likely to be living off his parents had made the four-hour drive from his home in another state where he has settled and is making his own way, figuring out his own life, and planning to share it with his bride in a few months. He doesn't have things all figured out, but is ambitiously learning where he fits and how to make changes to get where he wants to go. His trust in God is paramount and the joy of Christ pours from him into the lives of all he touches.
We experienced the combined energy and creativity of these men for an exhausting 24 hours. We laughed at their antics (following their car), relaxed and played (or watched) games, and got to turn a blind eye as they ran over flower garden chasing a football into prized landscaping at the botanical garden (not our "kids", not our problem!").
Three boys, three states, three states of life, on different paths, but all doing it on their own. I'm thankful I only have to imagine what it would be like to be the parent of the 40%.
I love you!
Monday, January 9, 2017
Can't We Just Have a Quiet Basketball Season?
Just when I think the dust has settled on the 2015-16 basketball season and we can look forward to a typical basketball season we have a whole new set of events going on. The news so far this year have been Shane getting his front tooth knocked out while playing the Minnesota Gophers; Owen's knee surgery and missing the first month of basketball; and the pertussis outbreak at the high school that cancelled all games and practices for Owen and Lisa for a solid 16 days.
Can we just settle down for some nice, quiet basketball already?
Friday, March 11, 2016
My Favorite Sports Story Ever
In light of the negative attention that last week's basketball game received, and in honor of Gabe turning 10-years-old this week, I thought I would relive this great memory from football season 2014.
I am not so naive as to think that this is how athletic competitions should end all the time, that it never matters if you win or lose, and that we just need to make everyone feel good. But I sure am glad that this select group of people on this one particular day came together to make Gabe's day, and in the process, left smiles on the faces of millions of people around the world. The video shows Gabe (a then 8-year-old, being guided by his older brother, Owen (who was also on the court during the stall game last week) and then chased down by a great group of opposing players (from Mosinee) who just make this the best high school touchdown ever.
Happy Birthday Gabe!!
(I wish I could get the NFL video with commentator breakdown to show up as a full video, but I can't, so here is the link to their piece:
http://www.nfl.com/videos/nfl-videos/0ap3000000415609/8-year-old-scores-inspirational-touchdown)
Or, you can see the original footage here:
I am not so naive as to think that this is how athletic competitions should end all the time, that it never matters if you win or lose, and that we just need to make everyone feel good. But I sure am glad that this select group of people on this one particular day came together to make Gabe's day, and in the process, left smiles on the faces of millions of people around the world. The video shows Gabe (a then 8-year-old, being guided by his older brother, Owen (who was also on the court during the stall game last week) and then chased down by a great group of opposing players (from Mosinee) who just make this the best high school touchdown ever.
Happy Birthday Gabe!!
(I wish I could get the NFL video with commentator breakdown to show up as a full video, but I can't, so here is the link to their piece:
http://www.nfl.com/videos/nfl-videos/0ap3000000415609/8-year-old-scores-inspirational-touchdown)
Or, you can see the original footage here:
Saturday, March 5, 2016
Basketball or "Stall Ball"?
March 5, 2016
To: Wisconsin State
Basketball Coaches and the WIAA
Re: Basketball or “Stall
Ball”?
Dear Coaches and Board Members,
I sat through a painful 36-minute “stall ball” game last
night. Even before the end of the
blisteringly boring excuse for a game (and while we led by 4 points) I was
drafting this letter in my head. The
nauseated feeling that began in the first five minutes of play never went
away. For me, this isn’t about winning
and losing. For the coaches, apparently,
that is all it is about.
As for basketball, I am not new to the game. I played high school basketball in MN, played
on a European women’s team while I was an exchange student, and played one year
of division 2 college basketball before transferring to a division 1 school
where I knew I could not (and did not care to try to) compete. I stayed involved in athletics by officiating
intramural games; and I married an athlete who played high school football,
basketball, and baseball and has officiated at upper levels of competition. We have eleven children; and, our ninth child
and seventh son is a now high school athlete.
I have been watching my kids play baseball, soccer, softball, football,
and basketball for twenty-two years. Besides
all of the regular season games, I’ve watched them play in all-star games, AAU
games, state east-west games,a MN-WI border battle, state tournaments, college
football games, and college basketball games.
I estimate that I have sat through at least 1600 games.
In twenty-two years and 1600+ games I have seen only ONE team end the season with a
win. Only ONE team made it to the final championship game and took home the
trophy. That’s only one in almost 200
teams’ seasons, less than 0.5% success. Learn
a lesson coaches, it isn’t just about winning.
If it is, you are a collective group of ultimate failures.
I haven’t encouraged my kids to play sports so they can “win”. I’ve encouraged them to play because they
enjoy it and to learn very valuable life lessons. I believe kids should walk away from an
athletic experience knowing more about hard work, cooperation, teamwork,
handling pressure, submitting to leadership, letting others down, and knowing
how to deal with those who’ve let them down.
I believe they should learn the benefits of dedication, giving it
everything they have, improving their work ethic, and doing all they can as a
team to do to those things together. I
believe these lessons take them into job situations, marriages, families, and
community positions better equipped to be leaders.
I want my kids to be leaders, but not without integrity. Leadership without integrity is what most
people call “politics”. What we all
despise about “politics” is the blatant maneuvering to position oneself for
personal gain and victory. We link it
with a lack of integrity.
That’s what I feel is happening with high school basketball. We were witness to this kind of basketball three times this season. Sitting and watching a team hold the ball for
7 straight minutes is not a game. Watching
a team dribble in circles and pass for minutes on end, waiting to draw a foul,
is frustratingly pointless for players and fans alike. But the fact that it’s frustrating for the
fans is not a reason to change strategies.
Three real reasons to stop engaging in the “stall ball” stategy are: 1) it violates the integrity of the game, 2) it undermines real sportmanship, and 3) the reason for competing in a team sport in
the first place is seriously violated by such behavior. This kind of basketball is the making of a
sports blooper segment, not an athletic event.
Coaches, when it comes to your “stall ball”, even the
players hate it. They want to play. They joined the team because they like to
play. I hear first hand what is said by
our team’s players and by the opposition. They hate it.
We’ve taught them too well to respect authority and do what you tell
them to do. They do it because you make
them do it; but, THEY HATE IT. Ask them,
I’m sure you’ll find that the vast majority don’t mind losing as much as they mind not
playing.
As a parent, one of the most frustrating things I’ve had to
do is create what seem like obvious rules.
(I’m guessing that the WIAA committees feel the same way.) I wrongly thought
that basic, overriding principles of life would be enough to direct my
children. Then they got old enough to
bend the rules, push the boundaries, and come to me saying, “But you didn’t say
not to…” And so the need for specific
rules and precise language arose. I
would prefer that my kids exercise personal discretion and integrity to do what
is right. As much as possible, I still
challenge them to make mature and honest choices without a defined list of
rules. When it comes to basketball we’ve
had sons share with us how, in games, they tried to ‘get into players heads’ to
mess them up, “accidentally” tap a ball away before inbounding to take time off
the clock, or quietly taunt someone to anger them and get them to retaliate and
foul. We have heartily denounced those behaviors. Whether they’re legal or just something they
can get away with doesn’t matter, it’s bad sportsmanship and lacks integrity.
We want this generation to grow up and make society better,
not more self-serving. While “stall ball”
is within the rules of Wisconsin high school basketball, everyone who has had
to pay $4, maybe drive 1-2 hours (or more) and then sit through what doesn’t
even resemble the game that drives the kids to want to play in the first place,
knows first hand that the integrity of the game, and high school athletcs, has
been violated.
It’s true, “No one said you can’t do that.” But they should.
Shame on all of you. (After some consideration, I feel that this was in inappropriate comment. I apologize.)
Sincerely,
Cindy White
Added Note:
Please understand, this is not simply about one game, one team, or one coach. I wrote most of this letter a month ago following another frustrating stall ball game. I wish we had stalled and lost so that you would know this is not sour grapes!
Here is an excerpt from a comment that may help express the purpose of this letter:
The debate about this is not new, a shot clock was first implemented in professional basketball in 1954 and the NCAA came on board in the mid 1980s. Everyone understands that 36 minutes of stalling is not basketball. The high schools have been reluctant to go to the shot clock because of the costs, training, and management and because it could potentially hurt younger players who need more time to implement the basic fundamentals of the game.
The National Federation of High School Association, on its website states, "Currently, Massachusetts, Maryland, Rhode Island, Washington, New York, California, North Dakota and South Dakota utilize the shot clock for either boys or girls or both. Since there currently is no allowance for a shot clock under NFHS rules, these states forfeit opportunity for service on the Basketball Rules Committee."
Unless the NFHS changes the rules, I believe its time for Wisconsin to join those eight states and use the shot clock. You can have your 1980s basketball. I"m ready to move forward.
Added Note:
Please understand, this is not simply about one game, one team, or one coach. I wrote most of this letter a month ago following another frustrating stall ball game. I wish we had stalled and lost so that you would know this is not sour grapes!
Here is an excerpt from a comment that may help express the purpose of this letter:
The debate about this is not new, a shot clock was first implemented in professional basketball in 1954 and the NCAA came on board in the mid 1980s. Everyone understands that 36 minutes of stalling is not basketball. The high schools have been reluctant to go to the shot clock because of the costs, training, and management and because it could potentially hurt younger players who need more time to implement the basic fundamentals of the game.
The National Federation of High School Association, on its website states, "Currently, Massachusetts, Maryland, Rhode Island, Washington, New York, California, North Dakota and South Dakota utilize the shot clock for either boys or girls or both. Since there currently is no allowance for a shot clock under NFHS rules, these states forfeit opportunity for service on the Basketball Rules Committee."
Unless the NFHS changes the rules, I believe its time for Wisconsin to join those eight states and use the shot clock. You can have your 1980s basketball. I"m ready to move forward.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Time Vacuum--The Next Generation
As a follow-up to the Time Vacuum post, I am posting the video of the sons performing in their fathers' footsteps. I think perhaps Chet inherited Uncle Kyle's dance moves. This video was taken in 1998 at Camp Nicolet, having moved from Camp Algonquin where the original version was performed.
From left to right--Jared, Kip, Keith, Marty, Chet, Kaleb, and Joey (sons of Kyle, Kenny, Keith, and Marty)
From left to right--Jared, Kip, Keith, Marty, Chet, Kaleb, and Joey (sons of Kyle, Kenny, Keith, and Marty)
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Time Vacuum
Shane asked me to send him a clip of a video that we have on VHS. It's TWENTY years old. My four youngest children were not even born when this video was made!
It has been a favorite among all of them. A few of them remember seeing it performed live, the rest of them enjoy seeing the tape every once in awhile. That is how Shane remembers it, on tape. He was only 8 months old when it was made, yet he wanted me to send it to him so that Claire could see it, too.
Finding the clip on the tape was quite a throw-back in time. As I ran through it I saw my older children twenty years younger, I saw the self that is now me two decades past. It was definitely old school. Yet, I was impressed to see how little my husband has changed. With the exception of his hair style he looks just the same! (I feel kind of bad for him that the same is not true for me.)
This clip is a children's song written by Wisconsin artist Ken Lonnquist called Time Vacuum. It is sung by the five White brothers and their brother-in-law, my children's father and uncles. Some years later a group of the cousins of the next generation performed the song for another camp talent show. I'll have to look for that one!
Here they are, stuck in their own time vacuum of sorts.
It has been a favorite among all of them. A few of them remember seeing it performed live, the rest of them enjoy seeing the tape every once in awhile. That is how Shane remembers it, on tape. He was only 8 months old when it was made, yet he wanted me to send it to him so that Claire could see it, too.
Finding the clip on the tape was quite a throw-back in time. As I ran through it I saw my older children twenty years younger, I saw the self that is now me two decades past. It was definitely old school. Yet, I was impressed to see how little my husband has changed. With the exception of his hair style he looks just the same! (I feel kind of bad for him that the same is not true for me.)
This clip is a children's song written by Wisconsin artist Ken Lonnquist called Time Vacuum. It is sung by the five White brothers and their brother-in-law, my children's father and uncles. Some years later a group of the cousins of the next generation performed the song for another camp talent show. I'll have to look for that one!
Here they are, stuck in their own time vacuum of sorts.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Shane and Claire's Wedding Video
The wedding description is in the previous post. Maria, a daughter of the cake maker, accepted my request to run the camera for me. Claire was happy to just have it run and capture the ceremony, but Maria turned and zoomed when appropriate and separated the video into four parts so that the camera wouldn't do it's own auto-save and lose parts of the video. I just didn't want the song in part 3 to be broken up.
Part 1 highlights Dana's beautiful piano playing skills! But, all you will see are the family and wedding party entering.
In Part 2 Claire's music starts at the 1:00 minute mark and she doesn't come up the aisle until about 1 minute and a half later. The ceremony begins at the 4:00 minute mark.
Part 3 is the entire song (minus the last word) of Chet singing "I Will Be Here" with the lighting of the unity candle, signing of the license, and a surprise to the parents.
Part 4, the final word of the song, the tearful vows, the rings, the kiss.
Monday, August 10, 2015
Shane and Claire's Wedding
Shane is our sixth child to get married. While some think we're "old pros" at this it just never gets easier to see a child married. I think that's because children in a family aren't simply a single mass that slowly decreases with time. They may look like it in photographs or in the minds of those outside the family. But within the family and definitely in the hearts of the parents each child is a special unique person with their own place. And that heart is just as full with one or two children as it is with three or more. The heart doesn't divide the love but increases to be able to hold more. There are certainly a few things that are easier today than in 2007 when Joey was married. We know what to expect and the emotion isn't coupled with doubt and wondering. But the feelings run just as strong now as they did eight years ago.
Shane and Claire were the proverbial "high school sweethearts". I first heard her name when Shane told me there was a girl at school that his friends said looked enough like him that she could be his sister. Her name was Claire Tracy. And he found reasons to mention that name a lot and make casual comments about her periodically. The thing was, Shane never made casual comments. When he talked about anything it was because he was thinking very purposely about that thing. I knew there was more to Claire than just looking like him (which, by the way, I have never seen). And there was. By the end of their sophomore year Shane had only three things on his mind--basketball, schoolwork, and Claire, and not necessarily in that order.
Every groomsman reiterated that "Shane really likes Claire". They didn't plan together to all say that and they didn't just pick it up from one another. They all thought it, meant it, and said it. It bears repeating because Shane really does like Claire! So, it was no surprise to us when they chose to marry and move down the less traveled road of finishing college as a married couple.
Here are some memories from their wedding.
The rehearsal
It's nice to have talented siblings. Dana did a beautiful job playing the piano for the prelude, processionals, special music, and recessional. Chet helped Dana figure out how to shorten Canon in D during the rehearsal and then stretch it during the ceremony when, after playing three pages of music the bride was still not coming up the aisle! He also sang a solo during the wedding.
Keira and Carson, Shane's oldest niece and nephew, were thrilled to be chosen to be the flower girl and ring bearer. They weren't so thrilled with rehearsing.
August 8, 2015, The Wedding Day
A final hug from Dad
The last time walking out our door as a single man. I love the unintentional symbolism of the little boy basketball hoop and a pair of sneakers scattered on the floor with the bright light on the other side of the door.
Waiting for the bride
Scenes from the Wedding
Mr and Mrs Shane White
Beautiful Smiles!
The Tracy Family
Papa and Grandma White with Shane and Claire
Posing with all twelve nieces and nephews (Granddad and Nana White's grandchildren)
My eleven children
My boys
The wedding party
Claire and Shane
The Tracy's hosted a beautiful reception with a delicious dinner and a dance at the local Quality Inn.
My good friend and fellow grandmother (my daughter's mother-in-law) Chris Kleven made this beautiful and delicious wedding cake (vanilla/strawberry, poppyseed/cream cheese, and chocolate/gnoche). If it looks like something is missing that's my fault. Sunday night I was talking to my boys in the dining room and my eye caught a small black box on top of my china hutch. The memories came back rapidly and jagged like a Hitchcock scene with screeching music. I had flash backs of Shane asking, "Can you give this to Mrs. Kleven?", "Where should I put it?", "It's the topper for the wedding cake." If anyone noticed it was missing they never said anything to me about it. It agonizes me a little bit that it was only 2 1/2 miles from the hall and could have been easily retrieved!
Keith dressed Gabe for the wedding and, when he put the coat on, Gabe looked into the mirror and said, "I'm a man." So, two of my men, Gabe and Shane.
Last spring Shane asked me to pick out the music to our mother/son dance. I knew it would have to be a country son for my country loving boy and I wasn't sure where to start looking. Then I thought, "I wonder if I could write a song for him?" So I did. While washing dishes one afternoon a stanza came to my mind and I dried my hands to jot it down on a piece of scrap paper. I stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet so I didn't lose it and it became the first lines of the fourth verse of Shane's Good-Bye Song. They were, "You wouldn't know it to look at them now/ dancing in the middle of the floor/ that it was just a few years ago/ she couldn't wait to see him walk out her door". I cried as I wrote the song and I cried when I first heard it put to music by my talented son Chet. I've cried again when I've watched this video of the dance, and even Shane cried when he heard it for the first time on the dance floor. It is a testament to the deep emotions that the love and struggles of parenting and growing up bring to our hearts. I'm thankful that the trials were short-lived and that the joy is now so full.
Finally, the end of their day, and maybe even the beginning of the next, and on to the honeymoon and together forever.
Shane and Claire were the proverbial "high school sweethearts". I first heard her name when Shane told me there was a girl at school that his friends said looked enough like him that she could be his sister. Her name was Claire Tracy. And he found reasons to mention that name a lot and make casual comments about her periodically. The thing was, Shane never made casual comments. When he talked about anything it was because he was thinking very purposely about that thing. I knew there was more to Claire than just looking like him (which, by the way, I have never seen). And there was. By the end of their sophomore year Shane had only three things on his mind--basketball, schoolwork, and Claire, and not necessarily in that order.
Every groomsman reiterated that "Shane really likes Claire". They didn't plan together to all say that and they didn't just pick it up from one another. They all thought it, meant it, and said it. It bears repeating because Shane really does like Claire! So, it was no surprise to us when they chose to marry and move down the less traveled road of finishing college as a married couple.
Here are some memories from their wedding.
The rehearsal
It's nice to have talented siblings. Dana did a beautiful job playing the piano for the prelude, processionals, special music, and recessional. Chet helped Dana figure out how to shorten Canon in D during the rehearsal and then stretch it during the ceremony when, after playing three pages of music the bride was still not coming up the aisle! He also sang a solo during the wedding.
Keira and Carson, Shane's oldest niece and nephew, were thrilled to be chosen to be the flower girl and ring bearer. They weren't so thrilled with rehearsing.
August 8, 2015, The Wedding Day
A final hug from Dad
The last time walking out our door as a single man. I love the unintentional symbolism of the little boy basketball hoop and a pair of sneakers scattered on the floor with the bright light on the other side of the door.
Waiting for the bride
Scenes from the Wedding
Mr and Mrs Shane White
Beautiful Smiles!
The Tracy Family
Papa and Grandma White with Shane and Claire
Posing with all twelve nieces and nephews (Granddad and Nana White's grandchildren)
My eleven children
My boys
The wedding party
Claire and Shane
The Tracy's hosted a beautiful reception with a delicious dinner and a dance at the local Quality Inn.
My good friend and fellow grandmother (my daughter's mother-in-law) Chris Kleven made this beautiful and delicious wedding cake (vanilla/strawberry, poppyseed/cream cheese, and chocolate/gnoche). If it looks like something is missing that's my fault. Sunday night I was talking to my boys in the dining room and my eye caught a small black box on top of my china hutch. The memories came back rapidly and jagged like a Hitchcock scene with screeching music. I had flash backs of Shane asking, "Can you give this to Mrs. Kleven?", "Where should I put it?", "It's the topper for the wedding cake." If anyone noticed it was missing they never said anything to me about it. It agonizes me a little bit that it was only 2 1/2 miles from the hall and could have been easily retrieved!
Keith dressed Gabe for the wedding and, when he put the coat on, Gabe looked into the mirror and said, "I'm a man." So, two of my men, Gabe and Shane.
Last spring Shane asked me to pick out the music to our mother/son dance. I knew it would have to be a country son for my country loving boy and I wasn't sure where to start looking. Then I thought, "I wonder if I could write a song for him?" So I did. While washing dishes one afternoon a stanza came to my mind and I dried my hands to jot it down on a piece of scrap paper. I stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet so I didn't lose it and it became the first lines of the fourth verse of Shane's Good-Bye Song. They were, "You wouldn't know it to look at them now/ dancing in the middle of the floor/ that it was just a few years ago/ she couldn't wait to see him walk out her door". I cried as I wrote the song and I cried when I first heard it put to music by my talented son Chet. I've cried again when I've watched this video of the dance, and even Shane cried when he heard it for the first time on the dance floor. It is a testament to the deep emotions that the love and struggles of parenting and growing up bring to our hearts. I'm thankful that the trials were short-lived and that the joy is now so full.
Finally, the end of their day, and maybe even the beginning of the next, and on to the honeymoon and together forever.
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