Old MacDonald had a what?

OK- so my kids sometimes watch this show called Barnyard- its a spin off from the movie of the same title. Computer animated farm animals have a secret life of pizza orders, movies, joyrides in the farmer's truck. They usually walk on 2 legs when the humans aren't around- lots of plot lines revolving around not getting exposed as talking rational animals. I have a couple of issues with it though. The first is just a silly thing- but goes back to my point about how far removed from an agrarian lifestyle we've come. The main character on the show is a cow named Otis- its a male cow, or as some might call him a bull, or if he's had some modifications, a steer. He's definitely a male- male name, male pronouns, has boys' nights out, whole show about being a long lost son of another cow etc. He also happens to have an udder. You know- large pink round thing with nipples sticking out of it- cow's udder. Only female cows have udders- males have other appendages in that area. No one seems to care. Probably most kids wouldn't recognize him as a cow if he didn't have an udder- all cows have udders, right? Wrong. But obviously not an issue for the Japanese animators. (maybe cows are different there?)
Second complaint has to do with a ferret who is best friends with a chicken. Obvious carnivore/herbivore conflict there- but he has chosen the alternative lifestyle of being a vegetarian and he and his 'best friend' live in the same barn stall together happily. Do we really need to push the PC barriers so far? I mean this is way over kids' heads, but I think most adults would get the idea of acceptance for psuedo gay stall mates and gender-bending cows.
Most people would say, "its just a cartoon show- get over it" and for the most part I am- just felt like venting, because when its on and I tell my kids to try and find something else to watch, they wouldn't understand these dilemmas I have. This is why I have a blog- to get this stuff out of my head. You can go back to your regularly scheduled programs now.

Fifteen years ago...

Fifteen years ago today, about this time, I relinguished my status as a single independent person and joined my life with one young lad named George Lipscomb. What a cool and amazing journey its been. I am glad I took a class on relationships in college, for many reasons, but especially for knowing that every relationship is evolving and requires tending always. There are good and bad times, and easy and hard times...it echoes those famous vows "for better or worse, in sickness or health." So we made those promises 15 years ago, and I am happy to say we still let them bind us to each other. We've added a couple of kids to just spice things up (!) and up our level of adventure. I don't have any great words of wisdom other than to remind everyone, and myself included, that relationships take work, prayer, communication and selflessness. Here's praying that God continues to equip George and I to keep doing those very things for each other. Rock on!

By the Waters of Babylon

Well, May hit like a fury, and then June- somehow I managed to miss the entire month as far as blogging goes. At least what I got written down. There were innumerable blogs written in my head. Like this one...

It happens every summer. First is the excitement that summer is finally here. It's a part of my DNA- the internal alarm clock that says, "it's here! It's here! Summer is finally here!" For many many years, the clanging of that alarm meant one thing for me: Summer camp. A pilgrimage to the holy mountain, where like many a traveler on his way to Jerusalem, I sang the songs of ascent and inwardly squealed (and sometimes outwardly) with excitement over finally climbing the mount and entering my temple of summer. For a few years, it meant the precious few weeks of being a camper- and then for a few more years, the work, joy, exhaustion, exhilaration and fun of being on staff. And then, several years later the amazement of watching a year's worth of planning and paperwork turn itself into a cool camp experience while I served as director.

More than anything though, the one feeling I loved at camp was the feeling that this is where I belonged. I had no yearning for home or my own bed (maybe more sleep, but my bunk was just fine). I had rough times and hard times and yucky times, but even in those times, I felt like I was doing what I was made to do. It was a perfect fit if there could be such a thing. I deeply felt and understood the difference between a job and a calling.

But, now, as summertime crests and breaks into routines of pool time and family cookouts, I feel like the Jews of Psalm 137, who having been exiled to a foreign land, are asked to sing songs from home to entertain their captors. My loose paraphrase goes (with apologies to Don McLean) "By the waters of Babylon Community Pool, we laid out and wept for thee summer camp." I look around and feel like an alien in a strange land, having been banished and sent out to live among a new tribe. I have been exiled to the land of the Suburbanite tribe, with their strange costumes of capris, leather sandals, and highlighted hair, with rituals of swim meets and play-dates. There I sit in my native dress of jean shorts and t-shirts and closed-toe shoes and I feel disconnected. My fallback position isn't shopping at the mall, it's starting a fire in my back yard and roasting marshmallows while my kids catch fireflies. I find myself inviting over friends and making them participate in 'evening programs,' and I start to teach my son how to play guitar even as he starts to pack for his own precious week away at camp.

Somewhere in my innermost self is an awareness of the fact that camp time is slipping away. Even as I look at the weather radar and immediately check camp locations for impending thunderstorms, I know the summer is racing by, and while I am making the most of it, I am still missing camp. My good friend and camp director Leslie recently said of camp, "once it gets in your blood, its always with you." So true. I can't slice a watermelon without thinking of the kid who gets the corner/end piece. I can't pass up a good deal on water balloons at the dollar store. I watch all the summer movies with a thought to how it could be spoofed in a 10 minute skit. I make up my son's loft bed making sure I get all the sheets tucked in underneath so they don't hang down for points off....

So, as I lay out by the waters of Babylon-burbia and sing camp songs in my head, I will remember thee- my Zion of Summer Camp

-and I might just make a lanyard for my key chain.