Where is our individual sense of duty?

My brother and I were discussing the impact the death of my classmate had on each of us recently. And while both of us walked away from this tragic situation with a renewed admiration for our troops overseas, my admiration for the individuals who sign up to defend us does not translate to me understanding why we are still in Iraq.

What is remarkable, however, about Nick's story is his conviction of duty to his himself, his family, his hometown, his nation, his brothers in the military.

Duty.

I think we tend cringe at the word because it implies that we owe something to someone else, an idea which at least my generation hates with a passion. We live as if we owe nothing to anyone except ourselves, as if no one else matters, no else's needs could ever come before our own.

But Nick is different. He bore that sense of duty like a true hero. He put his life at risk to protect what he loved, whether that was his family, his country, or more specifically his fellow soldiers. In contemplating this, Ev said, "His own understanding of duty denied him the right to overlook, ignore, and hide from...reality. "

We hide from reality because it's painful, it's uncomfortable, and it's not always pleasant or aligned with what we desire out of life, small or big things. Nick chose not to turn away when reality found him and he chose to make a difference, to put his life as he knew it - a Midwestern, small town father - on hold. I'm sure it helped him gain a more balanced perspective and an appreciation for life in this country that so many Gen Xers despise.

What is duty? What is my duty? I've never really thought about it prior to my conversation with Evan. That I would have a duty in this world never crossed my mind. I live for myself, which is so easy to do as a 25-year-old, single, working professional. What else is there in my world but what I need, want, and choose to do?

It's like I forgot to pause in my trek through life, to take my eyes off of the road--the inches in front of my feet--and to look around, to take in, absorb, the view, the other people and their needs around me. Like glancing up while speed reading a 500-page novel for the first time in hours; your eyes have to adjust to seeing more than a few inches away, to the lights, colors, and 3-D objects around you. My eyes are adjusting to this new view, eyes off of my feet.

Where does my duty lie? I hope to find in this season of reflection a renewed sense of purpose. And if I should have a duty that denies me the right to overlook the harsh reality around me, I want to find that, too. To embrace it. To let it change my life.

Thanks, Nick, for inspiring so many by the way you lived. That we would all know the conviction and passion you had, even if just for one simple thing.

Fascinating debates

Hanna Rosin has written a new book called God's Harvard: A Christian College on a Mission to Save America, that takes a look at the small Christian college outside the nation's capital - Patrick Henry College. A journalist, Rosin spent 18 months immersed in the school's culture, talking with their students and following them through internships in the White House and Hollywood, working on campaign teams, and pursuing their studies with dogged passion.

In line with the Web 2.0 generation, Rosin carried on an email conversation or debate about her book with David Kuo, author of Tempting Faith and former White House employee. Their debate has been published on the web at Slate.com.

You can read each response (David to Hanna, Hanna to David, etc.) by clicking on the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4 in the boxes. It's an interesting discussion, they have, and well worth perusing. Also, if you end up reading the book, let me know what you think about it.

I hate beling alone when I'm sad.

Conversely, I hate being sad in front of other people.

There are the few friends in life with whom you can share the full gamut of emotions.
Still, crying is never a graceful or becoming thing to do.

Pray the sadness fades.

Want to take a vacation in Mexico?

Try out Puerto Penasco (Rocky Point), Mexico.

Condo for rent.

The owners are really great people and you most definitely will enjoy your stay!

The Ides of September

Some days, you just need Christmas, no matter what the time of year.

On days when

• You get up at 6:30am
• You teach any number of classes (1 to however many)
• You experience technical difficulties in a computer lab, where it's essential that doesn't happen
• Your presentation monitor goes blank for no reason in the middle of the presentation
• You've taught 4 classes of freshman in two days

Sometimes, the only way to get Christmas on the Ides of September (which was, well, yesterday according to Wikipedia), is to visit your local Starbucks.

It's more of a Christmas-in-my-mouth sort of experience, this Decaf, Nonfat, Grande Peppermint Mocha.

It's exactly what the doctor ordered (if by doctor, I mean...well...me).

A blast of the unfathomable

Grief.

Comes in waves. You can almost watch it roll in and out.
In...denial. It can't be true. He's still alive.
Out...understanding. He's gone.
In...His child no longer has a daddy. His wife, husbandless at 25.
Out...It's silly to cry with six years of separation.

The fact remains that I did know him. We were friends. We had next-door neighbor lockers in middle school. We accompanied each other to dances, with matching corsages and boutonnieres. We shared mutual respect.

He got married, had a baby, and joined the military.

Had I run into him in the last few years since high school, I'd have thoroughly enjoyed catching up. Meeting his family.

His step-brother has lost not only this life in Iraq, but his uncle as well. Within this calendar year. And his father died on Monday. Three of the most important men in his life, gone.

I mourn for that family. For the loss of brother, son, husband, and father. For the emptiness and pain. I pray for comfort and peace, and against bitterness and hatred that can so stealthily fill those empty spaces.

W. S. Merwin "Separation"

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

"Were you having car trouble this morning?" A fellow university employee asked me quite early this morning.

"No," I said, confused. I couldn't figure out why he'd think that.

"It's just that your car is parked so crooked in its spot...I wondered if it was okay."

I flashed red. Was it possible that I had parked really crooked and not even realized? That's bad. He laughed and said he didn't think it was bad enough for me to get a ticket, but he wanted to give me a hard time about it. I felt like a fool.

Twenty minutes later, he sent me a picture of my car in its spot.

I still don't think it's a really bad parking job. The spaces are so wide you could practically fit two of my cars in one.

Best non-made-up disease that sounds made-up

Popcorn lung.

That's right. It's a real disease according to a pulmonary specialist at Denver's National Jewish Medical and Research Center.

What happens is the fumes from microwave popcorn, which contain diacetyl, poison the lungs.
Or something like that.

"Dr. Cecile Rose said the ailing patient, a man whom she wouldn't identify, consumed 'several bags of extra butter flavored microwave popcorn' every day for several years.

He described progressively worsening respiratory symptoms of coughing and shortness of breath. Tests found his ability to exhale was deteriorating, Rose said, although his condition seemed to stabilize after he quit using microwave popcorn."

I'm going to make a wild guess that popcorn lung isn't his only problem after consuming "several bags of extra butter flavored popcorn a day for several years".

When my friend's sister read this article, she immediately sent up this request:
"Dear God,
Please don't let my sister die from eating too much microwave popcorn.
Amen"

Check out the article. It's worth a perusal.

Birthday twins!

My sister-in-law and I had a shared birthday party on Saturday night. Our favorite hometown pizza (Nubiano's) - cheese for me, pepperoni for her, and supreme for dad, ev, and mom; a DQ ice cream cake for dessert; and some fruit and veggies on the side made for a perfect meal. We had a fire outside to usher in the evening, and the stars that night were spectacular.

Em and I ended up at our small party in the exact same shirt - Gap Outlet, classic v-neck T, color: pink. I had dark jeans turned up into capris and she had navy capris. It was uncanny the way we matched for our joint birthday celebration.

Everything matched us, too. Our packages were wrapped in papers with light pinks, our cards had light pink, our cake was iced in light pink lettering. When we went outside for the fire, mom changed into a light pink polo, I think because she felt left out as the only girl not in that color.

Suzanna being cute!

Our little echo.