Who Crashed It Best?

The bike has no idea about what's about to go down.

One of the things that TMFKATB was pretty excited about in his new area was the chance to be on a bike. While he was serving in Mexico, a bike was simply not an option. When you grow up with cultural icons that include missionaries on bikes, it's weird to think you won't be on a bike. So when he was reassigned to his new mission, he figured he might get on a bike at some point. He got his wish and this week's letter was chock full o'pictures of the bike as well as a bike-related story or two.

But before I get to that, just a few other highlights. TMFKATB seems to have hit his stride. He faced some challenges that led him to some intense study and he felt really good about the ensuing teaching opportunities. He and his companion are very aware of  just how short two years of service really is and they're working hard to maximize it. All in all, it was the kind of letter that missionary parents hope for. All good.

Except for the bike debacle.

If you're a bike riding missionary, at one point or another, and if you're really lucky, multiple points, you are going to have an accident on said bike. My first accident was just a couple weeks into the field. I got the chance to use my face as brake. Sadly. I say first because there were multiple accidents. Because Miami, sand, and ten-speeds do not mix. Which is why I had the good sense to buy a fat-tired beach cruiser after that demon seed ten-speed got stolen. Anyway, last week, TMFKATB and his companion decided to take a short cut across a field to save some time and it went horribly wrong. TMFKATB was leading and had to 'tap' his front brakes, sending him and his bike into a flip. When his companion got to him, he A) first and foremost, took a picture of the missionary down (because that's what's most important) and then B) seeing how his leg was bent, thought TMKFATB had a broken leg. Mercifully, his leg wasn't broken, but the bike was.

Earlier, I mentioned my first bike accident as a missionary and now my son has had his first bike accident. So let's play a game I'm calling "Who Crashed It Best?" It's easy to play.

Take a look at the images below.
Then decide "Who Crashed It Best?"

Ready.

Here we go.

Just look at how TMFKATB's left leg / foot is twisted!
Ignore his Wicked Witch of the East socks.
Note my cuts and the boss emergent bruise under my right eye.

I ask you, who crashed it best? Vote once. Vote often!

Thirty years on

There are no words.

This past Thursday, I succumbed again to #tbt temptation, and posted a photo from my past. I went deep into the WayBack, or WABAC, Machine (all props to Mr. Peabody from 'The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show' for that cultural reference!) to find the gem found on the left that I posted on the Instagrams as well as the Facebook. Before we get around to the most disturbing element of the photo, my Mo'Fro (Mormon 'Fro), some context and other things to consider:

- This was thirty, 30, count 'em, thirty years ago.
- I was a brand-new missionary. The supremely white shirt is a dead give away. It had not yet been subjected to the searing, color-crushing heat found in dryers in any and all Miami-area laundromats at that time. They had one setting: "Heat equal to that of the surface of the sun." I suspect it was because heat like that made for easy destruction of blood stains, DNA miscellany, as well as leftover blow. Remember, this was Miami in 1985.
- This photo was taken in an alley in Miami. I have no idea why we were back there. Probably the best place to lock up our bikes.
- The white Swatch watch. Matched my white shirt. This was the extent of my cutting edge fashion style. As a reminder, it was 1985. Also, Swatch is still a thing. Who knew?!
- Was I trying to channel Jake Ryan from "Sixteen Candles"? Google Image it and you decide.
- Now for the Mo'Fro. Seriously, there are no words. There is no way that this was an allowable length. As an old friend who served with me all those years ago said on the Facebooks, "I can't believe Mangum (our mission president) didn't make you cut that..." I agree. I have no idea how I got away with it. I also have no idea how I managed the style. It looks like I threw some shellac, or industrial strength AquaNet, on my hair and then slammed my head repeatedly with a frying pan to get that gravity defying look. I could have had a family of Cuban refugees in that mop and no one would have been the wiser. By all that's holy...

So finding this picture sent me down a rabbit's hole of memories as I pulled out a tattered box of photos from mission. There are some other photos that exceed the glory of the one above that may or may not make there way into #tbt rotation. As I looked at these photos, there were some moments of abject horror (mostly because it was the 80's), but mostly, it was smile after smile that came over me as I looked at images of people I served and people I served with. I saw families who had literally given up everything they had, meager as it may have been, to fight there way to the United States. While I can no longer remember the specifics of their histories, what I still remember is the joy they felt being reunited in the US. It didn't matter that they were living in a two bedroom apartment or in a tattered mobile home in one of Miami's sketchiest neighborhoods (and for Miami then, that's saying something). They were together. As I saw images of those other young men that I served with, I remembered late night conversations as we worried about the people we were working with. How could we, as nineteen and twenty year olds, help them? I remembered prayers being answered and finding those ways. What's funny as I went through all those pictures, is that I don't think there were any bad times. I know there were challenging times. I grew in ways that I could never have imagined in those two years and growing does not come without its share of challenges and pain. Every day was not sunshine-filled (despite what the Florida Department of Tourism would have you believe). But I became a better man because of those challenging days and how could I not be grateful for that?

So were those two years the best two years of my life? Nope. Were they the best two years of preparing me for the rest of my life? Absolutely. Those two years played a key role in shaping who I've become. I wouldn't have traded it for the world. Would I do it again? You bet, in a heartbeat, yes. But I'd probably forgo the Mo'Fro the next time around. You're welcome.

Moving Fast

The things one finds behind the Zion Curtain

"I learned a lot about moving fast this week."

That was just one of the things that TMFKATB had to share  in this week's letter and follow up banter. A lot went on in the past week for him and he did a pretty darn good job of keeping us filled in. Here are some of the highlights:

Transfers - with his companion finishing up his two year assignment, a new companion was certain. TMFKATB is now serving with a Salvadoreno who goes home next month. Their time together will be short but he was really excited to be assigned to work with this young man.

New Area - he's now working only in a Spanish area. He's excited about that but was bummed to say 'adios' to those he'd built relationships with. The good thing is that he's still close by.

Bike - no more car. He's in a bike area. He's excited to be on a bike. Of life on a bike, he said, 'It's fun being on bikes. I was really sore the first few days, but then it feels good. But being on a bike is great. It makes to people so much easier!'

One thing that hasn't changed since his letters from Mexico is the stream-of-consciouness nature of his writing (I blame the scourge of texting for this.) He fires off details and then out of nowhere, inserts something that he observed or learned and then he jumps back on the rat-a-tat motion of details. 'I learned a lot about moving fast this week,' is an example of one of those learnings that he buried while discussing something else. He's talked before about how he recognizes that his time as a missionary is not infinite and how he needs to maximize his time as he serves.  That theme emerged again in his non-sequitur observation.

He's got a point. Our time in this life is not infinite. We better make the best of it by working hard maximizing our time here. But we can't forget to enjoy this life either. Wasn't it the great 1980's philosopher, cultural icon, and guru, Ferris Bueller, who said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."

And a couple of pictures:

He loved his spicy shrimp dish

TMFKATB with his new companero

The ABC's and Sesame Street - A Thank You

Created the year I was born but not going on air until three years later, in 1969, "Sesame Street" endeavored to, according to the truthsayers at the Wikipedia, "master the addictive qualities of television and do something good with them." Interesting to note that even nearly fifty years ago, people recognized that television would by and large be a vapid, soul-sucking cauldron of nothingness. The characters of Sesame Street, human adults and children as well as the Muppets, would go on to teach countless children the basics of elementary education (e.g. literacy, mathematics, communication). Literally countless numbers of children learned to say their ABC's from Kermit the Frog. Many of us can remember counting with The Count. The lasting legacy and impact of "Sesame Street" cannot be discounted and millions of children continue to learn today from this program, despite the efforts of the Mittites and their ilk.

Why the "Sesame Street" nostalgia, you ask? Earlier today, the good people at one of my favorite magazines, Mental Floss, posted a link to a 40 year old scene from the show, featuring Kermit and a young girl doing the ABC's. How it plays out is clearly unexpected for everyone's favorite green frog.

Take a look:



As I watched this, a wave of nostalgia swept over me and I couldn't help but be thankful for those days that I can recall counting with the Count and working out letters with the denizens of Sesame Street. I looked over at my nightstand and saw the pile of books that I have read or am reading and I was so grateful that I can read. While I don't owe that ability to Sesame Street, it played a part in my comprehension and to the good people at the Children's Television Workshop, I say thank you.

I suppose what I'm reading now and what I've most recently read may freak the aforementioned CTW people out a bit. Here's a few of the titles:

Nagasaki Life After Nuclear War - Susan Southard - I'm currently reading this unflinching look at the affects of the plutonium bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Japan at the end of World War II. It is told through the eyes of several survivors. It's every bit as horrible as you can imagine and even more powerful.

Something Must Be Done About Prince Edward County - Kristen Green - In the early 1960's, there a handful of backward countries (countries!) and one county in Virginia where free public school education was not available. I just finished reading this personal history of the lasting impact of segregation.

The Billion Dollar Spy - David Hoffman - Fascinating and gripping account of a Russian engineer who spied for the US at his own volition. Why can't we teach this stuff in our high schools?

Like I said, it's an eclectic list. It may not be what the creators of "Sesame Street" envisioned but I don't honestly believe they wanted their young learners to solely recite the ABC's and read Dr. Seuss for the rest of their lives. They wanted us to know that each time you opened a book and began to read it, you opened a whole new world.

My world is better for it. Thank you, Sesame Street.