Yesterday the Dallas Cowboys, my Dallas Cowboys, were soundly beaten by a Washington Redskins team playing for more than just a win against their fiercest rivals and a chance to play come January. They were playing for Sean. A fallen friend.
November 18th. Sean is not home when burglers break into his house doing damage to his desk and safe. The perps leave with nothing, unable to find what they were looking for. Sean's mother checks on his house in his absence discovering the breakin and calls the police. Meanwhile, Sean sits out his first game after sustaining a knee injury the week before. His Skins lose 28-23 to the first place Dallas Cowboys.
November 25. Sean sits out his second straight game watching his Skins fall yet again, this time to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. It's their third loss in a row.
November 26. 1:45 a.m. The perps come back to Sean's house, this time finding him at home. A melee insues and Sean is shot in the upper leg by one of the 4 armed teenage intruders. He is critically wounded in the femoral artery. His long-time girlfriend Jackie Garcia hides under the bedding throughout along with Sean's 18-month-old daughter. She calls 911. Sean is airlifted to the Ryder Trauma Center at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, where he undergoes surgery. He emerges from surgery at 12:30 p.m. but remains unconscious, in a coma. Sean never wakes up, dying a few hours later as a result of the massive blood loss.
His team mates are devastated.
November 30. 4 young men are detained in connection with the murder of Sean Taylor. The youngest of the men is 17. Confessions are given.
December 1. All four men are charged with second-degree murder, armed burglary and home invasion with a firearm or another deadly weapon. The charges result in life sentences for each of the perpetrators.
December 2. Shaken by the loss of their team-mate and friend the Skins suffer their 4th loss in a row losing 17-16 to the lowly Buffalo Bills.
December 3. 4,000 people attend Sean's funeral service held at the Pharmed Arena at Florida International University. The entire Redskins organization attends the funeral taking up a section of the arena. Many of them are seen weaping throughout the emotional service. Sean's daughter sits in the front with her mother - wearing a pin with her father’s jersey number “21” on the sleeve of her dress. Sean is buried near his home. He is 24 at the time of his death.
December 7th. The Skins suit up to play last year's Super Bowl Finalists, the Chicago Bears. The Skins record sits at 5-7. A berth in the playoffs is the least of their concerns. As the Skins take the field they are greeted by 21's everwhere. It seems the 85,000+ fans aren't content to see their Skins throw in the towel. They've sown 21's everywhere, their clothes, their jerseys, their flags, everywhere. It's as if they're saying "do it for Sean." The Skins oblige defeating the Bears 24-16. They do not lose again.
The following weeks they dispose of the New York Giants and Minnesota Vikings 22-10, 32-21 respectively - spurned on by the Spirit of their fallen friend and faithful fans. By this time all the players have sown 21's into their Jersey's and afixed 21's to their helmets. The team now sits at 8-7 having won 3 games in a row. Talk of playoffs can now be heard.
December 30. Final game of the season. The Skins only hope is that Minnesota loses to the lowly Denver Bronco's. The other option is the Skins beating the Dallas Cowboys, but it's unlikely, considering the Boys tower above all in the NFC, sporting an impressive 13-2 record. The Skins take the field and are immediately overwhelmed by a record 90,000 fans all adorned with the number 21. Their coach, Joe Gibbs, having overcome tragedy himself, leads them on to the field. It isn't even close. The Cowboys are defeated soundly and are held to just 1 yard rushing. 1. yard. Even more remarkable, the Denver Broncos upset the Minnesota Vikings 22-19 securing the Skins a spot in the playoffs.
Joe Gibbs after the game. "To get to the playoffs was a dream of ours and four weeks ago everybody would have said it looked impossible. It was a great four weeks. It was guys just playing their hearts out. We couldn't have been prouder. The Lord has blessed us with a great group of guys. When you think about what they have gone through this year."
In the end, Washington showed us all the true meaning of having Skin in the game. They defeated my Cowboys 27-6 - winning for, and remarkably by, 21.
I didn't mind so much.
John
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas Break
Sitting on my butt actually. And reading. A ton. And watching Canada win. A lot. And laughing every evening at The Best Yet Most Underated Television Show In The History Of Television. Arrested Development. Besides that. . .playing street hockey with Ethan, laughing with Lex at Elf then rewinding and laughing even harder. Completing the "Human Faces Art Book, Tips, Questions and More", written by Maddison Close. And last but not least - doing the papers for my wife which is incredibly sexy. ..apparently. All in all it's been a fantastic holiday. A real break. Just what I needed after a mammoth project.
Tonight we have great friends coming over for good food. Speaking of great friends, Jay and Shannon were here last Sunday and as always we had a delightful visit. I like the word delightful. It's pigtail cheery. Tomorrow, I'm headed across town to visit with a good buddy who's back from the South. Next week, Angie and I plan to see a couple movies, probably Atonement and Dewey Cox (guess who picked which movie, you have 3 seconds). I start back to work Jan 2 which is still far enough away that I don't have to shower or shave. Tyler Butel has promised to slot me in, once, which is good of him considering he's so important. There's also talk of some bball before the break ends. A last ditch effort to shed unwanted pounds. I remember a time when bball is all I was, now it's a 1 hr slot on a packed holiday schedule. I'd love to say I still got game but the last time I dunked was 11 years ago.
I said I've been reading a lot and I have. I'm not lying ok. Jeez. My habit has been non fiction in the day and fiction in the evening. During the day I've been absorbed in The Portable Athiest. There's just something about Christmas that brings out my heretical ness. All jokes aside, its been a very good read and I've learned a ton in areas previouly unexplored. Much of it is rants written from men fuming over the carnage religion has left in its path but every once in while someone like Mark Twain will stop me dead and I'll find myself mulling for several minutes - struck with an unplesant truth. Einstein has been provocative as has Darwin. He's not what most think he was. Darwin I mean. He's more. Anyways, my faith has felt fuller lately and I must give credit to this unlikely source. I would recommend it but I fear that may be going to far. For obvious reasons. So don't read it. . .I recommend that you don't read it.
Life is good in Close land. Thanks for stopping by. It makes us feel loved.
John
Tonight we have great friends coming over for good food. Speaking of great friends, Jay and Shannon were here last Sunday and as always we had a delightful visit. I like the word delightful. It's pigtail cheery. Tomorrow, I'm headed across town to visit with a good buddy who's back from the South. Next week, Angie and I plan to see a couple movies, probably Atonement and Dewey Cox (guess who picked which movie, you have 3 seconds). I start back to work Jan 2 which is still far enough away that I don't have to shower or shave. Tyler Butel has promised to slot me in, once, which is good of him considering he's so important. There's also talk of some bball before the break ends. A last ditch effort to shed unwanted pounds. I remember a time when bball is all I was, now it's a 1 hr slot on a packed holiday schedule. I'd love to say I still got game but the last time I dunked was 11 years ago.
I said I've been reading a lot and I have. I'm not lying ok. Jeez. My habit has been non fiction in the day and fiction in the evening. During the day I've been absorbed in The Portable Athiest. There's just something about Christmas that brings out my heretical ness. All jokes aside, its been a very good read and I've learned a ton in areas previouly unexplored. Much of it is rants written from men fuming over the carnage religion has left in its path but every once in while someone like Mark Twain will stop me dead and I'll find myself mulling for several minutes - struck with an unplesant truth. Einstein has been provocative as has Darwin. He's not what most think he was. Darwin I mean. He's more. Anyways, my faith has felt fuller lately and I must give credit to this unlikely source. I would recommend it but I fear that may be going to far. For obvious reasons. So don't read it. . .I recommend that you don't read it.
Life is good in Close land. Thanks for stopping by. It makes us feel loved.
John
Saturday, December 22, 2007
One crappy day part deux
I got into an accident yesterday. Just one day after all things Crappy, a 20yr old with a 2008 Nissan thought it would be prudent to turn in front of me while I drove the preacher's kid to the mall. I barely had time to react so I stamped the brake, swerved to the right then refrained from introducing the boss's youngest to new words. I know cuz I asked her after. "So, when we were about to crash did I happen to say f. . .No? Excellent."
Nanoseconds after not swearing I plowed into Mr Altima rendering both our 2008's 911 worthy. As the cop drove away an hour later he wished me a Merry Christmas. I thought it curious.
2 cops, 2 days , 2 Merry Christmas's wished. I'm trying friends in blue.
John
P.S. Stuff like this is helping. Oh, no one was injured btw. Although my poor Matrix will be in Shop Class for a month.
Nanoseconds after not swearing I plowed into Mr Altima rendering both our 2008's 911 worthy. As the cop drove away an hour later he wished me a Merry Christmas. I thought it curious.
2 cops, 2 days , 2 Merry Christmas's wished. I'm trying friends in blue.
John
P.S. Stuff like this is helping. Oh, no one was injured btw. Although my poor Matrix will be in Shop Class for a month.
Friday, December 21, 2007
One crappy day
There are many ways in which I would not wish to be woken up. The blare of the smoke alarm for instance. The scream of my darling wife convinced hundreds of spiders are biting her is another. An excited son leaping onto my sensitiveness. Yesterday morning was among the worst though as it involved my youngest, Alexa, announcing, "Ooo, Hugo pooped" followed by a series of giggles. What is wrong with her I wondered, as I lay, what could possibly be funny about dog's excrement at 630am?
I got vertical and walked towards the awfulness. Hugo had exploded in 5 different spots in most rooms of the house. The option of one place just hadn't occured. In Hugo's defence, he was sick the day before as well. Angie discovered this after coming home, opening the door only to be met with Hugo's awfulness from head to paw. Angie said he seemed embarassed, which, embarassed enough to clean it up, I wondered? Angie hinted aloud on the phone if I might take some time off from work and deal with this, but I politely declined citing the work of the Lord as my defence. 4 baths later Hugo was clean. er.
Ah yes, did I mention the day before we had paid $80 to get him professionally groomed? Sadly its true, so if you've seen Murphy, let me know, I'd love to strangle him then burn his stupid laws.
As I headed to work after attending to the hilarious dog poop I decided to stop by the bank to check on the ol account. It was still there but there was some zero's missing. I drove to work distracted by the statement when I saw the red light. The problem was, I was already in the middle of the intersection and it was a big one. Lots of whizzing cars. Panicing, I continued through, holding up my hands at the other cars as if to say "please don't hit me, I just need to get through this intersection, k?" Everyone complied and I made it through but was greeted with flashing red lights. CRAP!!! I yelled, to no one in particular. (actually I wish that's what I yelled.) As I sat waiting for the inevitable tap on the window I thought about Hugo's poop and how it no longer seemed that bad. How on earth am I going to explain this?
Tap Tap Tap. I rolled down the window greeting the cop with a smile so big my dentist would have surely nodded with pride. "Do you have some sort of medical condition?" "You'd think so, I replied, but actually no, I just had a brain fart." Brain fart. That the best I could come up with. "Do you have a driver's license?" "I sure do," I said, a little too excitedly. I handed it to him and he looked it over. "You do realize this is a $250 fine?" "Yeh, I responded, looking at my crumpled up bank statement. "What do you do for a living," was his next question. I looked at him, smiled sheepishly, then said "actually, I'm a Pastor, and I'm just headed to work." His expression stayed the same as if his brain was still processing this ludicris information and hadn't yet told his face it's response. "A pastor eh." "Which church?" "Uh, actually it The Calgary Church of Christ, in Malborough, just behind the Mall." I thought about including -"you know, the church that is helping 700 homeless people get gifts this Christmas," but I didn't. The cop continued to look at me. I continued to sweat knowing there couldn't be a worse time for a $250 mistake. "Well, have a good day then, try to be more careful." "I sure will, I replied, way to cooperatively.
I still wonder why the cop didn't ticket me. I was clearly in the wrong, so much so the question of my mental health was on the table. Perhaps it was because he believed me, I was awfully honest. Maybe it was the "what kind of unfeeling Nazi gives a nice man a ticket 5 days before Christmas dynamic?" Maybe it was the whole Pastor thing. Like, God's birthday is just around the corner, better not mess with one of his employees. I'm not sure actually. But it was cool. And one of the better Christmas presents I've recieved.
John
I got vertical and walked towards the awfulness. Hugo had exploded in 5 different spots in most rooms of the house. The option of one place just hadn't occured. In Hugo's defence, he was sick the day before as well. Angie discovered this after coming home, opening the door only to be met with Hugo's awfulness from head to paw. Angie said he seemed embarassed, which, embarassed enough to clean it up, I wondered? Angie hinted aloud on the phone if I might take some time off from work and deal with this, but I politely declined citing the work of the Lord as my defence. 4 baths later Hugo was clean. er.
Ah yes, did I mention the day before we had paid $80 to get him professionally groomed? Sadly its true, so if you've seen Murphy, let me know, I'd love to strangle him then burn his stupid laws.
As I headed to work after attending to the hilarious dog poop I decided to stop by the bank to check on the ol account. It was still there but there was some zero's missing. I drove to work distracted by the statement when I saw the red light. The problem was, I was already in the middle of the intersection and it was a big one. Lots of whizzing cars. Panicing, I continued through, holding up my hands at the other cars as if to say "please don't hit me, I just need to get through this intersection, k?" Everyone complied and I made it through but was greeted with flashing red lights. CRAP!!! I yelled, to no one in particular. (actually I wish that's what I yelled.) As I sat waiting for the inevitable tap on the window I thought about Hugo's poop and how it no longer seemed that bad. How on earth am I going to explain this?
Tap Tap Tap. I rolled down the window greeting the cop with a smile so big my dentist would have surely nodded with pride. "Do you have some sort of medical condition?" "You'd think so, I replied, but actually no, I just had a brain fart." Brain fart. That the best I could come up with. "Do you have a driver's license?" "I sure do," I said, a little too excitedly. I handed it to him and he looked it over. "You do realize this is a $250 fine?" "Yeh, I responded, looking at my crumpled up bank statement. "What do you do for a living," was his next question. I looked at him, smiled sheepishly, then said "actually, I'm a Pastor, and I'm just headed to work." His expression stayed the same as if his brain was still processing this ludicris information and hadn't yet told his face it's response. "A pastor eh." "Which church?" "Uh, actually it The Calgary Church of Christ, in Malborough, just behind the Mall." I thought about including -"you know, the church that is helping 700 homeless people get gifts this Christmas," but I didn't. The cop continued to look at me. I continued to sweat knowing there couldn't be a worse time for a $250 mistake. "Well, have a good day then, try to be more careful." "I sure will, I replied, way to cooperatively.
I still wonder why the cop didn't ticket me. I was clearly in the wrong, so much so the question of my mental health was on the table. Perhaps it was because he believed me, I was awfully honest. Maybe it was the "what kind of unfeeling Nazi gives a nice man a ticket 5 days before Christmas dynamic?" Maybe it was the whole Pastor thing. Like, God's birthday is just around the corner, better not mess with one of his employees. I'm not sure actually. But it was cool. And one of the better Christmas presents I've recieved.
John
Monday, December 17, 2007
Spencer, Hank, Bruce and Janet.
Do not judge less you be judged. A few weeks ago I called out the blogworld judging all the non-updaters. Let's see 12 days have passed since I "sold out" as my good friend Kyle said, writing a blog wrought with tired cliches. Ha Ha, Kyle's a real treasure of a friend, the kind that will tell you the truth. He was correct of course, I didn't want to dissapoint my cousin's wife by not Grid Blogging so I turned to Picasso to bail me out. Never trust a dead guy who paints odd shaped boobs. Anyways, I have time now so lets hope I get this thing right.
For the past two weeks I've spent my evenings sitting across the table from men and women on the edge of despair. No, I'm not talking about Flames fans (that joke would have worked much better if the Flames weren't currently on a five game winning streak. Crap.) The men and women I speak of are currently living in Calgary without a home. The homeless. Many of them came here looking for work but found no rent control instead. Some of them had their lives torn apart when their wife, partner or room-mate took off leaving them broke or worse, broken. Some of them made poor choices and are now addicted to. . .pain. All of them touched me. Messed with my mind and touched my heart. Each night, as I headed home, I felt grateful to be me and depressed they are them. Not dressed up and no place to go. We conducted 700+ interviews over a 10 night span. Of the dozens I personally conducted there were four that stood out.
The first was Spencer. As he walked towards me I saw his face was contorted, and then it wasn't, and then it was again. You could tell he was aware of what was happening but was powerless to do anything about it. Like hitting a patch of black ice. As he shared his story he talked about medical school and how he had become a nurse. "It's my passion, he said, I love taking care of people." One day he woke up and everything changed. Dystonia took care of him. Dystonia is a neurological disorder that causes abnormal muscle contractions. Spencer got emotional as he talked about losing his job and no longer being allowed to take care of peole. Without a source of income or support he was now forced to survive at The Drop In Centre. Survive. "We don't live here, a man shared with me one night, we exist." When it came to his wish, Spencer asked for Victor Frankl's classic "The Search for Meaning." He once knew where to find it but now wasn't so sure.
Next was Hank Williams. He chuckled as he told me his name. "Actually, it's Henry", he said. Life emanated from his eyes. Like he had found a way to not just exist. Hank had been homeless for 10 years which meant he was now 71. I know. Oh yeah, and he's paralyzed. I can't imagine what would be worse, being homeless at 71 or being paralyzed. Perhaps they're the same thing. Hank went on to share that he had 13 children (7 step children) and 28 grandchildren. I finally blurted out at one point "what on earth are you doing here?" He replied "I prefer this environment, its much more positive then living with my family." I was dumbstruck. Most of us couldn't survive a night at The Drop In let alone live there for years. But Hank was. And had chosen it.
A few nights later I met Bruce. Bruce is a 22 yr old Maritimer who moved to Calgary for you guess it. . .work. Bruce was brutally honest as he shared how alcohol had taken over his life causing him to lose his job and place. As he shared I couldn't help but notice he was different. He stood out. He wasn't like the others I had talked to, he was sharp, sure of himself, even seemed to know what he wanted. We ended up talking for several minutes as he told me tales of growing up in Nova Scotia, playing hockey with Sidney Crosby but being forced to quit when he hurt his shoulder. BTW - he claims Crosby is the biggest A_____ H_____ he's ever met in his life. When it came to his wish he said "all I want is to go home for Christmas." He then admitted how he hadn't told his family. I imagined his parents, sitting at home in N.S. talking about how proud they were of Bruce, moving west to get a job. Little did they know, their son was living on the street. When I asked why he hadn't told his parents he shrugged his shoulders and said "why tell them, they don't need to be burdened by my mess, they have their own challenges. Besides, if they knew, they'd send me money they didn't have or come up here and get me. Why would I put that kind of stress on them" Bruce impressed me.
Janet hit me the hardest though. She came up behind me and said "hey, don't I know you." I turned around seeing a girl I recognized but wasn't sure from where until she said "you're from church, right?" Then it clicked. Janet had attended my youth group 4 years ago, very infrequently mind you, but she had come, even to BC for Got Faith. When it clicked I almost broke down right there in the middle of The Drop In Centre. I talked to her for several minutes wanting desperately to save her yet not knowing where to begin or if she even wanted to be rescued. She ended up thanking me for chatting then wandered off. She looked so lost. And she was. She still is.
We completed all the interviews on Friday. Most of them have been added to the website - http://www.homelesspartners.com/. Many of the people have had their wishes granted but hundreds more still wait. (Btw - if you are moved by their stories or wish to participate you can grant their wish by mailing their gift to the shelter. If you are interested, let me know.)
This project was both heartbreaking and inspiring, eye opening and moving. I encourage all of you to either start this project in your own city or start volunteering at your local shelter. I realize this last part is turning into a commercial but I'm not sure I care. My life was changed.
John
For the past two weeks I've spent my evenings sitting across the table from men and women on the edge of despair. No, I'm not talking about Flames fans (that joke would have worked much better if the Flames weren't currently on a five game winning streak. Crap.) The men and women I speak of are currently living in Calgary without a home. The homeless. Many of them came here looking for work but found no rent control instead. Some of them had their lives torn apart when their wife, partner or room-mate took off leaving them broke or worse, broken. Some of them made poor choices and are now addicted to. . .pain. All of them touched me. Messed with my mind and touched my heart. Each night, as I headed home, I felt grateful to be me and depressed they are them. Not dressed up and no place to go. We conducted 700+ interviews over a 10 night span. Of the dozens I personally conducted there were four that stood out.
The first was Spencer. As he walked towards me I saw his face was contorted, and then it wasn't, and then it was again. You could tell he was aware of what was happening but was powerless to do anything about it. Like hitting a patch of black ice. As he shared his story he talked about medical school and how he had become a nurse. "It's my passion, he said, I love taking care of people." One day he woke up and everything changed. Dystonia took care of him. Dystonia is a neurological disorder that causes abnormal muscle contractions. Spencer got emotional as he talked about losing his job and no longer being allowed to take care of peole. Without a source of income or support he was now forced to survive at The Drop In Centre. Survive. "We don't live here, a man shared with me one night, we exist." When it came to his wish, Spencer asked for Victor Frankl's classic "The Search for Meaning." He once knew where to find it but now wasn't so sure.
Next was Hank Williams. He chuckled as he told me his name. "Actually, it's Henry", he said. Life emanated from his eyes. Like he had found a way to not just exist. Hank had been homeless for 10 years which meant he was now 71. I know. Oh yeah, and he's paralyzed. I can't imagine what would be worse, being homeless at 71 or being paralyzed. Perhaps they're the same thing. Hank went on to share that he had 13 children (7 step children) and 28 grandchildren. I finally blurted out at one point "what on earth are you doing here?" He replied "I prefer this environment, its much more positive then living with my family." I was dumbstruck. Most of us couldn't survive a night at The Drop In let alone live there for years. But Hank was. And had chosen it.
A few nights later I met Bruce. Bruce is a 22 yr old Maritimer who moved to Calgary for you guess it. . .work. Bruce was brutally honest as he shared how alcohol had taken over his life causing him to lose his job and place. As he shared I couldn't help but notice he was different. He stood out. He wasn't like the others I had talked to, he was sharp, sure of himself, even seemed to know what he wanted. We ended up talking for several minutes as he told me tales of growing up in Nova Scotia, playing hockey with Sidney Crosby but being forced to quit when he hurt his shoulder. BTW - he claims Crosby is the biggest A_____ H_____ he's ever met in his life. When it came to his wish he said "all I want is to go home for Christmas." He then admitted how he hadn't told his family. I imagined his parents, sitting at home in N.S. talking about how proud they were of Bruce, moving west to get a job. Little did they know, their son was living on the street. When I asked why he hadn't told his parents he shrugged his shoulders and said "why tell them, they don't need to be burdened by my mess, they have their own challenges. Besides, if they knew, they'd send me money they didn't have or come up here and get me. Why would I put that kind of stress on them" Bruce impressed me.
Janet hit me the hardest though. She came up behind me and said "hey, don't I know you." I turned around seeing a girl I recognized but wasn't sure from where until she said "you're from church, right?" Then it clicked. Janet had attended my youth group 4 years ago, very infrequently mind you, but she had come, even to BC for Got Faith. When it clicked I almost broke down right there in the middle of The Drop In Centre. I talked to her for several minutes wanting desperately to save her yet not knowing where to begin or if she even wanted to be rescued. She ended up thanking me for chatting then wandered off. She looked so lost. And she was. She still is.
We completed all the interviews on Friday. Most of them have been added to the website - http://www.homelesspartners.com/. Many of the people have had their wishes granted but hundreds more still wait. (Btw - if you are moved by their stories or wish to participate you can grant their wish by mailing their gift to the shelter. If you are interested, let me know.)
This project was both heartbreaking and inspiring, eye opening and moving. I encourage all of you to either start this project in your own city or start volunteering at your local shelter. I realize this last part is turning into a commercial but I'm not sure I care. My life was changed.
John
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Belated Gridblog
Chels suggested we blog on "The Art of Happiness." Immediately I had visions of sunshine and rainbows grinning down on a square house with a triangle roof and a family making merry in the curvy grass below. The artist was 5 and used a broken crayon. But that's Happiness Art.
The Art of Happiness. It's not a Science. Most of us approach happiness as if it were paint by number - convinced a completed picture is the key. I think its more Picasso then that. He seemed to just paint allowing the brush to move his arm. The key with Picasso is not in what he completed but how he completed.
Life is a canvas. How we approach it determines everything.
John
The Art of Happiness. It's not a Science. Most of us approach happiness as if it were paint by number - convinced a completed picture is the key. I think its more Picasso then that. He seemed to just paint allowing the brush to move his arm. The key with Picasso is not in what he completed but how he completed.
Life is a canvas. How we approach it determines everything.
John
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