A Return To The Fatherland
I just returned from a week in the midwest, and I couldn't be happier to be back in my one bedroom apartment in Bellingham. I truly live in the most beautiful place in the world. As my flight home approached Seattle the mountains appeared to be standing guard against the wretched masses to the east and south that were seeking a piece of my paradise.
That's not to say that I didn't enjoy my trip -- this was, in fact, the best time I've ever spent with my dad since my parents split. I'll list out my experiences in chronological order:
Day One - Friday, August 5
I arrived in Cincinnati on a Delta flight at about eight o'clock. It's odd that I was on a Delta flight, as I had originally booked my tickets with Alaska. When I was trying to check in at the Alaska e-ticket kiosk at SeaTac I kept getting denied. I sought the help of one of the Alaska service people, and it was pointed out to me that the phrase "Operated by Delta Airlines" had been printed in small, gray text to clue me in that I should be checking in with Delta instead of Alaska, even though the word "Delta" appeared only twice on my confirmation, and "Alaska" appeared 19 times in non-gray, non-small print.
I moseyed my way over to the Delta kiosk, and was denied again, but this time the machine instructed me to get in line at the service counter. For whatever odd reason, I had to receive my boarding pass from a live person instead of a machine. I was also told that I'd have to watch a computer screen for my seat assignment, as my seat assignment had not been set yet.
After making my way through the security gauntlet, I found out why this was so. The flight had apparently been oversold, yet the representatives at the desk would not say it. I had to deduce it by realizing that there were a good deal of "stand by" (that means no seat for you) persons still on the computer display when I boarded the plane. I might not have gotten a seat had I not made an effort to stand in line until I could ask for it. One of the reps had originally told all of us that were standing in a long line to sit and listen for our names to be called in order to get our seat assignments. I waited, my name was never called, so I got back in line. After fifteen minutes of being the second person in line, I finally go the chance to ask for a seat, and was given one.
I was originally pleased when I boarded the plane. All the seats were vinyl, which seemed luxurious to me. I soon became displeased. While reading an article in Harper's it was announced that a preview for the in-flight movie, Madagascar would be played shortly. The audio for the preview was played on the plane's loudspeakers. Later, after the movie was over, and while I was still paging through Harper's, one of the flight attendants droned on for three minutes on the loudspeakers in order to pimp the Delta SkyMiles program. I don't like being advertised at, especially on a flight that more than $300 was paid for.
The lame flight landed in Cincinnati, I took a train to the main terminal, and found my dad waiting at the top of the escalator. He's a big dude with a semi-handlebar mustache. We grab my luggage, head out the parking lot, and hop in his red Ford Focus. Within a few minutes, Christian bluegrass is a-playing on the stereo.
We went out to Skyline Chili for dinner. We don't have any Skyline Chili restaurants on the West Coast, so it was a nice treat to enjoy my favorite fast food from the past again. I had a five way, which I believe consisted of spaghetti, chili, beans, cheese, and onions.
We made the drive over to the Children's Home where he's currently living, and he stopped to point out the house in which he had grown up. It's not even a mile from the house he's in right now. Here's a shot of the sign in front of the multi-home campus:
And here's the soybean fields that surround it:
There's a lot of soy grown in the midwest, but barely anyone there consumes it.
We arrived at what would be my home for the next few days, and I dropped my bags off in what would be my room for the next few days. I woke up Curtis, my roommate for the next few days, while doing so.
Dad and I then went down to the basement to play Tiger Woods Golf on his PlayStation 2. He's got a locked room with a computer, a large TV, and the PS2 in the basement. It's locked so that the troubled boys that he takes care of don't vandalize the valuables within.
My dad won the game, and I retired to bed. The bed was a twin size. I had a rough time sleeping, as Curtis made a great deal of noise every time he turned in his bed. I lated learned that the beds are fitted with plastic sheets. Apparently a good number of the boys that they care for are bed-wetters.
Day Two - Saturday, August 6
I awoke, not so rested, and took care of my hygienics. Cold cereal was served for breakfast. It was revealed to me that we were all to go boating down the Little Miami river today -- I asked if it'd be possible to rent a kayak instead of a canoe, and found that such a thing was, indeed, possible.
Later, all the boys in the household (except Curtis), my dad, and myself, went out on the trip. The names of the boys are Big Joey, Little Joey, Aaaron, and Rob. They've all got the midwestern accents required to live in Ohio, though they tell me that I've got an accent.
The way the numbers worked out, if my dad had been in a canoe, he would've been by himself, or else would have had to talk me out of getting a kayak. I got him to try out a kayak instead, though. He was a bit uneasy at first, but grew to like it.
The trip was was six miles long. Along the way, I saw a group of vultures on the ground, surrounding what I assumed to be a corpse. One had its wings stretched out wide to ward off thieves. Those birds are damned ugly. I also saw some rednecks that lived in a shack on the river's edge shooting turtles, presumably for food. When we neared the end of the trip, I managed to flip myself while having a splash fight with Aaron and Rob.
After we returned to the house and cleaned ourselves up, I convinced everyone to go out to a Thai place for dinner. They'd never had Thai before, but were eager to give it a shot. I only found two in the area, and we ended up driving a half hour to get to one of them. It was worth it, though. Everyone loved the food. Aaaron especially loved the food, as well as the chopsticks. He and Big Joey both got Pad Thai, Little Joey got some seafood dish with deep fried noodles, my dad got something that was hot, Rob got teriyaki chicken, and I got Duck Choo Chee. The duck was incredibly fatty, but it was my first duck, so perhaps they're supposed to be like that. They do need to be fat in order to float well, after all. Everyone else appeared to love their food, and Rob even got a second dish. It was a soup with a smell that reminded me of soup that Miyuki used to make.
Following our return to the house, there was some wacky karaoke at Miss Faye's house. Miss Faye's husband, who hails from, I think, Mississippi, has an enormous fat tire and twigs for legs, but sings quite well. Some of the troubled boys began to talk to the troubled girls who stayed at that house, and were chastised for "flirting," as well as foul language.
We returned to the house, some things happened, and I ended up sleeping somehow.
Day Three - Sunday, August 7
This day is apparently the Lord's Day. Speaking of which, these are everywhere in Ohio:
They're not just found near hard to spot church entrances, either. They're at nearly every single church.
I was roused out of bed my dad. I had set my cell phone's alarm to wake up earlier, but had set it for 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:00 a.m. I readied myself, and we rode out in the van. My dad was pleased to see that I had brought the Bible he'd given me, and was pleased greater to hear that I'd been reading it. I'm not sure if he would've been all that pleased if he'd known I was reading in order that I could participate in informed debate on the subject instead of for purposes of spirituality.
There were many greetings in church, as is the custom. There were also fierce battles of handshakery with every new man that I met.
I was given the option of attending a class of folks my age, or sticking with my dad and going to his class full of older folks, and opted to stick with my dad. The classes for people my age tend to be lacking on substance, in my experience.
The subject of my father's class was the Book of Revelation. I was a bit worried that the whole hour was going to be an advertisement for the Left Behind series, but was pleasantly surprised. I didn't have to point out that Revelation was most likely written about Rome, as the speaker, Chris Jones, was teaching precisely that. I was not pleasantly surprised, however, when he broke off from the subject to give us an aside on his opinion of Islam. According to Chris, Islam causes wars. He says that all the current military conflicts in the world involve Muslims. Apparently he's never heard of Liberia, Columbia, or the Republic of Congo. There's currently wars in all three of these non-Muslim lands, and what's more, I found that out by following the first hit on Google for "current wars". What the Christ?
After class, I told my dad that I thought Chris's comments were wrong, and my dad introduced me to Chris and talked about it. I talked about the Abassid empire, and he professed his ignorance. He then talked about violence in the Quran, I talked about the Canaanites, and he replied that the Old Testament was "leading towards the New Testament." What the hell? It's still part of the Christian canon, and it advocates genocide. Nothing in the Quran promotes genocide. We then had to part, as he had to prepare for the service.
I have to admit that I forgot the subject of the service. There was much singing, with no musical instruments of any kind, as the Church of Christ does not believe in mixing instruments with hymns. Why? Wikipedia:
There was further handshakery and greetings after the service, and I met up with Chris Jones again. He asked me, "So, you're a Muslim sympathizer?" Fucking wow! That's some awesome loaded language he used to indicate that my position is outside the mainstream. I admit, he caught me off guard, and I initially disavowed being a sympathizer, but later fessed up to my crime after thinking for a moment. We went back and forth a bit, and he made some comments about commands in the Quran to kill others, and I replied that I had definitely read passages that commanded peace and justice from Muslims, but couldn't recite them off the top of my head, having not studied the Quran itself in-depth. We parted, and he walked off, incredibly cock-sure.
After returning to the house, I participated in the game known as Corn Holing. No, not anal sex! In Ohio, Corn Holing is when you throw a beanbag at an inclined board with a hole in it, in an attempt to keep the bag on the board (it's quite slick) or optimally to get it in the hole. It's a lot like horseshoes, and though unfortunately named, is rather fun. I turned out to be a keen corn holer.
Following corn holing, we ate fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and biscuits, with some very heavy gravy. It was tasty, but damn was it ever unhealthy. My dad couldn't believe that I was pull after eating only one plate. That's right, just one!
We returned to the church for the evening service. This service was about the Apostle Paul. Chris Jones was the speaker. Part-way through, he has another one of his asides, in which he promotes the idea of teaching intelligent design in schools. Holy fuck, this guy is an agent of the Republican Party. The Republicans were able to draw the uneducated yahoos to the polls in 2004 with an initiative forbidding gay marriage. Odds are, in 2008, they'll have an initiative on the ballot to teach intelligent design in schools.
Midway through the service, my 7:00 p.m. alarm went off.
After the service, LIsa, one of my dad's church friends, approached with an incredible offer. She wanted to give me her a car. The car was a 1996 Cavalier, with absolutely nothing wrong with it. I pondered this, and thought about asking goons to drive the car to Bellingham for me, but declined the offer, citing work responsibilities and the fact that in case of genuine vehicular emergency, my grandma would probably step in and help me out. I tried to get her to offer it to Yuyao, and tried to convince her that Yuyao was a good Christian girl, but it didn't work, as she said she already had someone else lined up. Maybe it's cause Yuyao is Chinese.
Speaking of Yuyao being Chinese, everyone in my dad's church is white. Everyone in the house is white. I think nearly everyone within thirty miles or so of the house and the church are white. Ohio is incredibly white.
We returned back to the house, some things happened, and I went to bed.
Day Four - Monday, August 8
On this day, my dad and I went to King's Island. There were many rides, most of which were enjoyable. It seems I'm getting feeble though, as the wooden roller-coasters I used to enjoy kicked my ass, shook my spine, and nearly tore the muscles in my shoulder.
King's Island was also nearly 100% white. I made mental notes, and counted six Asians the entire time I was there. There was a group of three, a couple, and a single. The three were a mother and her two children, the couple were a girl and a guy, and the single was a cute girl that looked like she was hanging out with her friends. Of the thousands of people there, I probably saw about thirty black folks.
Describing the rides with words is a task I don't feel like doing right now. Here are pictures:
The kid in the cage was at the Son of Beast ride.
The last attraction we did before leaving the park was a live show that was loosely connected to the movie School of Rock. The show ended up using footage from the movie to make those connections. It wasn't the best live entertainment I'd ever seen, but I got plenty of pictures.
At the end of the day, after returning to the house, I'd found that Aaron had broken the toilet in the bathroom I'd been using. The tank had a long crack and hole near the back, and the hole was in a position that would've been incredibly hard to create with the things around it that were in the way.
Before retiring to bed, Denise, my dad, and I sat in the living room and had some stimulating conversation. I gathered that Denise dreams of opening a pastry shop in Charleston, North Carolina, and my dad wants to be a trucker. Both of them sympathize with my position that education is undervalued in the Deep South.
Day Five - Tuesday, August 9
This day was the beginning of my extended family visiting journey. We made the hundreds of miles trip to my Aunt Lulu's house in West Virginia in about five hours. Along the way, I endured much child-noise from my step-nieces and step-nephew, Michaela, Allysa, and Dylan. Allysa was by far the quietest and most well-behaved, while Dylan was brash and loud. Michaela was somewhere in between. She spent a lot of time sleeping, but was usually making noise when awake.
There was a touching incident at a rest area involving Dylan and insects. He got out of the van and found a dead butterfly and repeatedly asked my dad if it was dead and why. Later, my dad fished a maimed grasshopper out of the van's windshield wipers. Dylan tried to keep it as a pet, but my Dad explained it was dying. Dylan looked worried, and asked why. They later set it down in the grass.
Dylan kept referring to every visible rock face as "rainbow canyon." I assume that he probably got this phrase from some kind of crazy children's show.
After an incredibly long drive, and the evaporation of my cellular service, we arrived at my Aunt Lulu's house in Craigsville, West Virginia. It was a simple house, with a yard that had been dug up in the front in order to remove stumps. My aunt Lulu, uncle Eddie, and great grandmother Hazel lived there. A number of family members that I hadn't seen in ten years came over. Among them were my Uncle Rimfire, Uncle Henry, Aunt Tessie, Aunt Naomi, Delores, Mark, and Beverly. Two new babies were in the house as well. One was named Isaac, and I forgot the name of the other one.
There was much discussion and greetings and picture taking and such. Mark, who I'm not quite sure how I am related to, told an excellent story about a bear he and his father were hunting. They had shot the bear twice, and assumed it to be a goner, and so stashed their guns in the truck and went to retrieve its carcass. When they found it, it was still alive, laying on the ground, and was snapping its mouth open and shut. Mark decided to sharpen a stick and shove it down the bears throat, so as to puncture its lungs. When he had finished sharpening the stick, the bear had stopped opening its mouth. He then decided to pierce the bear's flesh near its shoulder blades in order to puncture its lungs. He heaved down up on the bear with all his might, the stick bent, and the bear threw him into the air. When he regained his senses, he found that the stick had gone in, as it was bloody. He then got a much larger chunk of wood, sharpened it, and triumphantly finished the job.
Here's pics of the kinfolk:
That night I got to sleep in a full size bed, in a room to myself, for the first time in five nights. It was glorious. I watched a couple of episodes of Futurama before falling asleep.
Day Six - Wednesday, August 10
This day we ventured to Kentucky, where my grandparents, Alice and Ray, live. The drive was longer than yesterday's.
Before we got to my grandparents' house, we stopped at a White Castle in Lexington that I had found using my PowerBook. I wish I wouldn't have insisted on having that uniquely east-of-the-Rockies meal, as it was gloriously fatty, greasy, and nearly made me sick.
When we finally arrived at my grandparent's house, I got out, stretched my legs, and hugged my grandma and grandpa upon coming into the house. We sat around for a while and talked, then ate some pizza and cheeseburgers. I walked around outside for a bit taking pictures of the landscape, and managed to create a great panorama with a near 180ยบ field of view. I also took a shot of my grandpa's rustic and disused chicken coop:
I came back into the house to find my dad giving the children rides on my grandpa's quad runner. I reserved my place in line, and went in to fix my grandpa's TV setup as he'd asked me to do earlier.
After that, I showed my grandma some photos on my PowerBook, and then I went outside to partake in the four-wheeling festivities. My dad gave me a ride down to the creek, where he'd always given me a ride when we visited my grandparents ever since I can remember. It was incredibly nostalgic. The creek bed had been filled in with cement slabs where there used to be just dirt that trucks could get stuck in. I took the four wheeler out solo into the creek while my dad snapped a photo.
After I came back, my grandpa gave me the green light to take the four wheeler out for a spin in the field behind his house. I rode it for about twenty minutes, and came back in with manure on both me and the machine. I washed the vehicle off, took a shower, and then washed my clothes. I sat down while the children watched 'The Fox and the Hound' and assembled the panorama I had taken using Photoshop. It turned out beautifully:
This was scaled down for the web. The original is much higher quality, but it's also incredibly huge.
Shortly before everyone fell asleep, I got them together to take a group picture. Three attempts were made, and this was the best one taken:
Some things happened, my dad announced that I had been reading the Bible and my grandparents were pleased by the news, and I retired to bed. Again I had a room to myself. I was on a full size mattress, though it was filled with air. I watched an episode of Futurama and fell asleep.
Day Seven - Thursday, August 11
I awoke at 5:10 a.m. very much unrefreshed by my pittance of sleep. I had no time for a shower, but I didn't feel like rising immediately, so I languished for a bit under my covers. After about ten minutes, I found my way to the bathroom, put in my contacts and took out my retainer, and set about getting all my things ready for the trip home.
We had planned on leaving at 6:00 a.m., but made it out at 6:05 a.m. That's not bad considering the children that we traveled with. The ride to the airport was nerve-wracking, as I was continually in fear of missing my flight. I got the airport at about 8:50 a.m., and my flight was set to take off at 9:23 a.m. After the check-in, security checkpoints, and journey to the gate, I made the plane with only five minutes to spare. I was the last one to board it. I managed to snag a seat in the exit row, which has incredibly fantastic leg room.
I had to sit through the fucking Delta advertisements again.
I finished reading Bab el-Oued, a book about an Algerian neighborhood besieged by Islamists in the early 1990's. I originally bought the book for my History of Modern Africa class, but never got around to reading it. It was quite good. I'm going to try to make an effort to read all of the assigned literature I'm given in my courses from now on.
After landing, we had to wait about fifteen minutes for our gate to become unoccupied. There was a plane in it. After getting off the plane, I dashed to baggage claim using the fancy flat conveyer belts they had. Initially shy, I stood behind a woman that was blocking movement around her, until an older guy came and pushed his way through. I drafted behind him until the conveyer belts ended.
I was confuzzeld at baggage claim. My boarding pass had an Alaska flight number. My bag was surely not on Alaska's carousel's. I asked the Delta representative about this, and he pointed out my flight number on my boarding pass -- it was sandwiched between other numbers and letters that the layman ought not need to realize surround his flight number. I then asked which carousel the bag would be on, and was told it would be on either three or four, and that the sign would light up with my flight number when the bags were to be unloaded.
None of that happened. The signs didn't light up, and my bag came out on carousel five. Fuck that noise, I was nearly late for my Airporter and I had to take a leak in the crazy bus toilet because of it.
I started reading Amin Saikal's Islam and the West on the bus ride home. I originally bought it for the Honors Political Science course I took the second quarter of my freshman year. It's pretty compelling stuff. I'd love to read what he has to say about the current situation in Iraq.
When I arrived in Bellingham, I darted over to Fred Meyer to buy some fettucini and alfredo sauce. I needed to get some cash back in order to pay for the taxi, and getting something nice for dinner was just a bonus.
I had to wait about twenty minutes after calling the cab company before a cab came to pick me up. The driver was the same guy that had picked me up when I departed for Ohio. I chatted with him, and told him I was glad to be back. He remarked, as I exited the taxi, "Yeah, it's good to be in God's country." I replied, "I don't know, I think Ohio might be God's country, because I saw signs advertising him everywhere."
It's good to be back. I live in the most beautiful place in the world.
That's not to say that I didn't enjoy my trip -- this was, in fact, the best time I've ever spent with my dad since my parents split. I'll list out my experiences in chronological order:
Day One - Friday, August 5
I arrived in Cincinnati on a Delta flight at about eight o'clock. It's odd that I was on a Delta flight, as I had originally booked my tickets with Alaska. When I was trying to check in at the Alaska e-ticket kiosk at SeaTac I kept getting denied. I sought the help of one of the Alaska service people, and it was pointed out to me that the phrase "Operated by Delta Airlines" had been printed in small, gray text to clue me in that I should be checking in with Delta instead of Alaska, even though the word "Delta" appeared only twice on my confirmation, and "Alaska" appeared 19 times in non-gray, non-small print.
I moseyed my way over to the Delta kiosk, and was denied again, but this time the machine instructed me to get in line at the service counter. For whatever odd reason, I had to receive my boarding pass from a live person instead of a machine. I was also told that I'd have to watch a computer screen for my seat assignment, as my seat assignment had not been set yet.
After making my way through the security gauntlet, I found out why this was so. The flight had apparently been oversold, yet the representatives at the desk would not say it. I had to deduce it by realizing that there were a good deal of "stand by" (that means no seat for you) persons still on the computer display when I boarded the plane. I might not have gotten a seat had I not made an effort to stand in line until I could ask for it. One of the reps had originally told all of us that were standing in a long line to sit and listen for our names to be called in order to get our seat assignments. I waited, my name was never called, so I got back in line. After fifteen minutes of being the second person in line, I finally go the chance to ask for a seat, and was given one.
I was originally pleased when I boarded the plane. All the seats were vinyl, which seemed luxurious to me. I soon became displeased. While reading an article in Harper's it was announced that a preview for the in-flight movie, Madagascar would be played shortly. The audio for the preview was played on the plane's loudspeakers. Later, after the movie was over, and while I was still paging through Harper's, one of the flight attendants droned on for three minutes on the loudspeakers in order to pimp the Delta SkyMiles program. I don't like being advertised at, especially on a flight that more than $300 was paid for.
The lame flight landed in Cincinnati, I took a train to the main terminal, and found my dad waiting at the top of the escalator. He's a big dude with a semi-handlebar mustache. We grab my luggage, head out the parking lot, and hop in his red Ford Focus. Within a few minutes, Christian bluegrass is a-playing on the stereo.
We went out to Skyline Chili for dinner. We don't have any Skyline Chili restaurants on the West Coast, so it was a nice treat to enjoy my favorite fast food from the past again. I had a five way, which I believe consisted of spaghetti, chili, beans, cheese, and onions.
We made the drive over to the Children's Home where he's currently living, and he stopped to point out the house in which he had grown up. It's not even a mile from the house he's in right now. Here's a shot of the sign in front of the multi-home campus:
And here's the soybean fields that surround it:
There's a lot of soy grown in the midwest, but barely anyone there consumes it.
We arrived at what would be my home for the next few days, and I dropped my bags off in what would be my room for the next few days. I woke up Curtis, my roommate for the next few days, while doing so.
Dad and I then went down to the basement to play Tiger Woods Golf on his PlayStation 2. He's got a locked room with a computer, a large TV, and the PS2 in the basement. It's locked so that the troubled boys that he takes care of don't vandalize the valuables within.
My dad won the game, and I retired to bed. The bed was a twin size. I had a rough time sleeping, as Curtis made a great deal of noise every time he turned in his bed. I lated learned that the beds are fitted with plastic sheets. Apparently a good number of the boys that they care for are bed-wetters.
Day Two - Saturday, August 6
I awoke, not so rested, and took care of my hygienics. Cold cereal was served for breakfast. It was revealed to me that we were all to go boating down the Little Miami river today -- I asked if it'd be possible to rent a kayak instead of a canoe, and found that such a thing was, indeed, possible.
Later, all the boys in the household (except Curtis), my dad, and myself, went out on the trip. The names of the boys are Big Joey, Little Joey, Aaaron, and Rob. They've all got the midwestern accents required to live in Ohio, though they tell me that I've got an accent.
The way the numbers worked out, if my dad had been in a canoe, he would've been by himself, or else would have had to talk me out of getting a kayak. I got him to try out a kayak instead, though. He was a bit uneasy at first, but grew to like it.
The trip was was six miles long. Along the way, I saw a group of vultures on the ground, surrounding what I assumed to be a corpse. One had its wings stretched out wide to ward off thieves. Those birds are damned ugly. I also saw some rednecks that lived in a shack on the river's edge shooting turtles, presumably for food. When we neared the end of the trip, I managed to flip myself while having a splash fight with Aaron and Rob.
After we returned to the house and cleaned ourselves up, I convinced everyone to go out to a Thai place for dinner. They'd never had Thai before, but were eager to give it a shot. I only found two in the area, and we ended up driving a half hour to get to one of them. It was worth it, though. Everyone loved the food. Aaaron especially loved the food, as well as the chopsticks. He and Big Joey both got Pad Thai, Little Joey got some seafood dish with deep fried noodles, my dad got something that was hot, Rob got teriyaki chicken, and I got Duck Choo Chee. The duck was incredibly fatty, but it was my first duck, so perhaps they're supposed to be like that. They do need to be fat in order to float well, after all. Everyone else appeared to love their food, and Rob even got a second dish. It was a soup with a smell that reminded me of soup that Miyuki used to make.
Following our return to the house, there was some wacky karaoke at Miss Faye's house. Miss Faye's husband, who hails from, I think, Mississippi, has an enormous fat tire and twigs for legs, but sings quite well. Some of the troubled boys began to talk to the troubled girls who stayed at that house, and were chastised for "flirting," as well as foul language.
We returned to the house, some things happened, and I ended up sleeping somehow.
Day Three - Sunday, August 7
This day is apparently the Lord's Day. Speaking of which, these are everywhere in Ohio:
They're not just found near hard to spot church entrances, either. They're at nearly every single church.
I was roused out of bed my dad. I had set my cell phone's alarm to wake up earlier, but had set it for 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:00 a.m. I readied myself, and we rode out in the van. My dad was pleased to see that I had brought the Bible he'd given me, and was pleased greater to hear that I'd been reading it. I'm not sure if he would've been all that pleased if he'd known I was reading in order that I could participate in informed debate on the subject instead of for purposes of spirituality.
There were many greetings in church, as is the custom. There were also fierce battles of handshakery with every new man that I met.
I was given the option of attending a class of folks my age, or sticking with my dad and going to his class full of older folks, and opted to stick with my dad. The classes for people my age tend to be lacking on substance, in my experience.
The subject of my father's class was the Book of Revelation. I was a bit worried that the whole hour was going to be an advertisement for the Left Behind series, but was pleasantly surprised. I didn't have to point out that Revelation was most likely written about Rome, as the speaker, Chris Jones, was teaching precisely that. I was not pleasantly surprised, however, when he broke off from the subject to give us an aside on his opinion of Islam. According to Chris, Islam causes wars. He says that all the current military conflicts in the world involve Muslims. Apparently he's never heard of Liberia, Columbia, or the Republic of Congo. There's currently wars in all three of these non-Muslim lands, and what's more, I found that out by following the first hit on Google for "current wars". What the Christ?
After class, I told my dad that I thought Chris's comments were wrong, and my dad introduced me to Chris and talked about it. I talked about the Abassid empire, and he professed his ignorance. He then talked about violence in the Quran, I talked about the Canaanites, and he replied that the Old Testament was "leading towards the New Testament." What the hell? It's still part of the Christian canon, and it advocates genocide. Nothing in the Quran promotes genocide. We then had to part, as he had to prepare for the service.
I have to admit that I forgot the subject of the service. There was much singing, with no musical instruments of any kind, as the Church of Christ does not believe in mixing instruments with hymns. Why? Wikipedia:
No instrumental music in services (a cappella). The arguments against it are of two categories. A strong argument that claims that it is false doctrine prohibited by a principle or a law of silence, and a weak argument, similar to that originally held by Alexander Campbell, that such would be materialistic or inappropriate, but not necessarily false doctrine. Many congregations contain members with both positions. Commonly, larger congregations speak so as to not take sides between the weak or strong position. More conservative congregations may still openly call it a sin, and more liberal congregations openly say that it is not a sin, while usually refusing to adopt instruments.
There was further handshakery and greetings after the service, and I met up with Chris Jones again. He asked me, "So, you're a Muslim sympathizer?" Fucking wow! That's some awesome loaded language he used to indicate that my position is outside the mainstream. I admit, he caught me off guard, and I initially disavowed being a sympathizer, but later fessed up to my crime after thinking for a moment. We went back and forth a bit, and he made some comments about commands in the Quran to kill others, and I replied that I had definitely read passages that commanded peace and justice from Muslims, but couldn't recite them off the top of my head, having not studied the Quran itself in-depth. We parted, and he walked off, incredibly cock-sure.
After returning to the house, I participated in the game known as Corn Holing. No, not anal sex! In Ohio, Corn Holing is when you throw a beanbag at an inclined board with a hole in it, in an attempt to keep the bag on the board (it's quite slick) or optimally to get it in the hole. It's a lot like horseshoes, and though unfortunately named, is rather fun. I turned out to be a keen corn holer.
Following corn holing, we ate fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and biscuits, with some very heavy gravy. It was tasty, but damn was it ever unhealthy. My dad couldn't believe that I was pull after eating only one plate. That's right, just one!
We returned to the church for the evening service. This service was about the Apostle Paul. Chris Jones was the speaker. Part-way through, he has another one of his asides, in which he promotes the idea of teaching intelligent design in schools. Holy fuck, this guy is an agent of the Republican Party. The Republicans were able to draw the uneducated yahoos to the polls in 2004 with an initiative forbidding gay marriage. Odds are, in 2008, they'll have an initiative on the ballot to teach intelligent design in schools.
Midway through the service, my 7:00 p.m. alarm went off.
After the service, LIsa, one of my dad's church friends, approached with an incredible offer. She wanted to give me her a car. The car was a 1996 Cavalier, with absolutely nothing wrong with it. I pondered this, and thought about asking goons to drive the car to Bellingham for me, but declined the offer, citing work responsibilities and the fact that in case of genuine vehicular emergency, my grandma would probably step in and help me out. I tried to get her to offer it to Yuyao, and tried to convince her that Yuyao was a good Christian girl, but it didn't work, as she said she already had someone else lined up. Maybe it's cause Yuyao is Chinese.
Speaking of Yuyao being Chinese, everyone in my dad's church is white. Everyone in the house is white. I think nearly everyone within thirty miles or so of the house and the church are white. Ohio is incredibly white.
We returned back to the house, some things happened, and I went to bed.
Day Four - Monday, August 8
On this day, my dad and I went to King's Island. There were many rides, most of which were enjoyable. It seems I'm getting feeble though, as the wooden roller-coasters I used to enjoy kicked my ass, shook my spine, and nearly tore the muscles in my shoulder.
King's Island was also nearly 100% white. I made mental notes, and counted six Asians the entire time I was there. There was a group of three, a couple, and a single. The three were a mother and her two children, the couple were a girl and a guy, and the single was a cute girl that looked like she was hanging out with her friends. Of the thousands of people there, I probably saw about thirty black folks.
Describing the rides with words is a task I don't feel like doing right now. Here are pictures:
The kid in the cage was at the Son of Beast ride.
The last attraction we did before leaving the park was a live show that was loosely connected to the movie School of Rock. The show ended up using footage from the movie to make those connections. It wasn't the best live entertainment I'd ever seen, but I got plenty of pictures.
At the end of the day, after returning to the house, I'd found that Aaron had broken the toilet in the bathroom I'd been using. The tank had a long crack and hole near the back, and the hole was in a position that would've been incredibly hard to create with the things around it that were in the way.
Before retiring to bed, Denise, my dad, and I sat in the living room and had some stimulating conversation. I gathered that Denise dreams of opening a pastry shop in Charleston, North Carolina, and my dad wants to be a trucker. Both of them sympathize with my position that education is undervalued in the Deep South.
Day Five - Tuesday, August 9
This day was the beginning of my extended family visiting journey. We made the hundreds of miles trip to my Aunt Lulu's house in West Virginia in about five hours. Along the way, I endured much child-noise from my step-nieces and step-nephew, Michaela, Allysa, and Dylan. Allysa was by far the quietest and most well-behaved, while Dylan was brash and loud. Michaela was somewhere in between. She spent a lot of time sleeping, but was usually making noise when awake.
There was a touching incident at a rest area involving Dylan and insects. He got out of the van and found a dead butterfly and repeatedly asked my dad if it was dead and why. Later, my dad fished a maimed grasshopper out of the van's windshield wipers. Dylan tried to keep it as a pet, but my Dad explained it was dying. Dylan looked worried, and asked why. They later set it down in the grass.
Dylan kept referring to every visible rock face as "rainbow canyon." I assume that he probably got this phrase from some kind of crazy children's show.
After an incredibly long drive, and the evaporation of my cellular service, we arrived at my Aunt Lulu's house in Craigsville, West Virginia. It was a simple house, with a yard that had been dug up in the front in order to remove stumps. My aunt Lulu, uncle Eddie, and great grandmother Hazel lived there. A number of family members that I hadn't seen in ten years came over. Among them were my Uncle Rimfire, Uncle Henry, Aunt Tessie, Aunt Naomi, Delores, Mark, and Beverly. Two new babies were in the house as well. One was named Isaac, and I forgot the name of the other one.
There was much discussion and greetings and picture taking and such. Mark, who I'm not quite sure how I am related to, told an excellent story about a bear he and his father were hunting. They had shot the bear twice, and assumed it to be a goner, and so stashed their guns in the truck and went to retrieve its carcass. When they found it, it was still alive, laying on the ground, and was snapping its mouth open and shut. Mark decided to sharpen a stick and shove it down the bears throat, so as to puncture its lungs. When he had finished sharpening the stick, the bear had stopped opening its mouth. He then decided to pierce the bear's flesh near its shoulder blades in order to puncture its lungs. He heaved down up on the bear with all his might, the stick bent, and the bear threw him into the air. When he regained his senses, he found that the stick had gone in, as it was bloody. He then got a much larger chunk of wood, sharpened it, and triumphantly finished the job.
Here's pics of the kinfolk:
That night I got to sleep in a full size bed, in a room to myself, for the first time in five nights. It was glorious. I watched a couple of episodes of Futurama before falling asleep.
Day Six - Wednesday, August 10
This day we ventured to Kentucky, where my grandparents, Alice and Ray, live. The drive was longer than yesterday's.
Before we got to my grandparents' house, we stopped at a White Castle in Lexington that I had found using my PowerBook. I wish I wouldn't have insisted on having that uniquely east-of-the-Rockies meal, as it was gloriously fatty, greasy, and nearly made me sick.
When we finally arrived at my grandparent's house, I got out, stretched my legs, and hugged my grandma and grandpa upon coming into the house. We sat around for a while and talked, then ate some pizza and cheeseburgers. I walked around outside for a bit taking pictures of the landscape, and managed to create a great panorama with a near 180ยบ field of view. I also took a shot of my grandpa's rustic and disused chicken coop:
I came back into the house to find my dad giving the children rides on my grandpa's quad runner. I reserved my place in line, and went in to fix my grandpa's TV setup as he'd asked me to do earlier.
After that, I showed my grandma some photos on my PowerBook, and then I went outside to partake in the four-wheeling festivities. My dad gave me a ride down to the creek, where he'd always given me a ride when we visited my grandparents ever since I can remember. It was incredibly nostalgic. The creek bed had been filled in with cement slabs where there used to be just dirt that trucks could get stuck in. I took the four wheeler out solo into the creek while my dad snapped a photo.
After I came back, my grandpa gave me the green light to take the four wheeler out for a spin in the field behind his house. I rode it for about twenty minutes, and came back in with manure on both me and the machine. I washed the vehicle off, took a shower, and then washed my clothes. I sat down while the children watched 'The Fox and the Hound' and assembled the panorama I had taken using Photoshop. It turned out beautifully:
This was scaled down for the web. The original is much higher quality, but it's also incredibly huge.
Shortly before everyone fell asleep, I got them together to take a group picture. Three attempts were made, and this was the best one taken:
Some things happened, my dad announced that I had been reading the Bible and my grandparents were pleased by the news, and I retired to bed. Again I had a room to myself. I was on a full size mattress, though it was filled with air. I watched an episode of Futurama and fell asleep.
Day Seven - Thursday, August 11
I awoke at 5:10 a.m. very much unrefreshed by my pittance of sleep. I had no time for a shower, but I didn't feel like rising immediately, so I languished for a bit under my covers. After about ten minutes, I found my way to the bathroom, put in my contacts and took out my retainer, and set about getting all my things ready for the trip home.
We had planned on leaving at 6:00 a.m., but made it out at 6:05 a.m. That's not bad considering the children that we traveled with. The ride to the airport was nerve-wracking, as I was continually in fear of missing my flight. I got the airport at about 8:50 a.m., and my flight was set to take off at 9:23 a.m. After the check-in, security checkpoints, and journey to the gate, I made the plane with only five minutes to spare. I was the last one to board it. I managed to snag a seat in the exit row, which has incredibly fantastic leg room.
I had to sit through the fucking Delta advertisements again.
I finished reading Bab el-Oued, a book about an Algerian neighborhood besieged by Islamists in the early 1990's. I originally bought the book for my History of Modern Africa class, but never got around to reading it. It was quite good. I'm going to try to make an effort to read all of the assigned literature I'm given in my courses from now on.
After landing, we had to wait about fifteen minutes for our gate to become unoccupied. There was a plane in it. After getting off the plane, I dashed to baggage claim using the fancy flat conveyer belts they had. Initially shy, I stood behind a woman that was blocking movement around her, until an older guy came and pushed his way through. I drafted behind him until the conveyer belts ended.
I was confuzzeld at baggage claim. My boarding pass had an Alaska flight number. My bag was surely not on Alaska's carousel's. I asked the Delta representative about this, and he pointed out my flight number on my boarding pass -- it was sandwiched between other numbers and letters that the layman ought not need to realize surround his flight number. I then asked which carousel the bag would be on, and was told it would be on either three or four, and that the sign would light up with my flight number when the bags were to be unloaded.
None of that happened. The signs didn't light up, and my bag came out on carousel five. Fuck that noise, I was nearly late for my Airporter and I had to take a leak in the crazy bus toilet because of it.
I started reading Amin Saikal's Islam and the West on the bus ride home. I originally bought it for the Honors Political Science course I took the second quarter of my freshman year. It's pretty compelling stuff. I'd love to read what he has to say about the current situation in Iraq.
When I arrived in Bellingham, I darted over to Fred Meyer to buy some fettucini and alfredo sauce. I needed to get some cash back in order to pay for the taxi, and getting something nice for dinner was just a bonus.
I had to wait about twenty minutes after calling the cab company before a cab came to pick me up. The driver was the same guy that had picked me up when I departed for Ohio. I chatted with him, and told him I was glad to be back. He remarked, as I exited the taxi, "Yeah, it's good to be in God's country." I replied, "I don't know, I think Ohio might be God's country, because I saw signs advertising him everywhere."
It's good to be back. I live in the most beautiful place in the world.
posted by Brandon Adams at
7:51 PM
1 Comments:
You be goddamn right you do.
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Anonymous, at 2:31 PM
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