Up North

I'll be frank, I've never left the southeastern United States. Sure, I've skirted through Indiana and Illinois before on the way to mission trips, but for all intensive purposes those regions I passed through were the same kind of environments you can find in any pocket of the Southern US. It's these thoughts of travel that have been awaken in me as I contemplate my upcoming voyage to the heart of the Northern US in just a few short months for a friends wedding: Massachusetts.

I've always wanted to travel, and with the Union just hours away, I'm surprised it has taken me this long to prepare for the journey to the land of Lox & Bagel. It's not that I dread the experience, no I actually look forward to it very much. It's the mass of people that has me thinking. I mean, look at the facts, the number of people crammed into NYC reflects roughly the same number of people who inhabit NC. Not just that, but roads are more liked clogged toilets, delivering the refuse of it's citizenry back to their suburban dwellings night after night.

Of course, I do feel that most of my view of the North has been prejudiced by 2 of my favorite shows: The Sopranos, and The Wire. Both of these gritty HBO dramas depict life in subcultures that happen to be found in the North. Just as we have gangsters and drug dealers here in Harnett County, so they too have the same problems in Harlem and the Hamptons. When you think about it, they aren't so different from us after all. The world is full of people just like you and me, people trying to find a way, a purpose. But most of all, they are finding a way to get by, and what is foreign about that to me?

War Heroes, Blind Dogs & BBQ

Today has been an eventful day. Yesterday, we had a 2/3 dirty 30 reunion in Buies Creek, sans Zach, as Daniel and I made the most of a dreary excursion into greater Harnett county to cleanse our pallets with the likes of Sherry's Bakery, Mi Casita, and of course Sunni Skies. As Daniel departed for Winston-Salem this morning, I departed as well for home in St. Pauls for a family excursion that I have been looking forward to for some time now.

This excursion was to see, and meet for the first time, my maternal grandfathers last surviving uncle, Colin, who at 92 is still remarkably agile and whose memory is as sharp as ever. Colin had just participated in commencement ceremonies for the Marine Corps in Paris Island, SC where he was an honored guest in the graduation exercises. During WWII, Colin served in the Marines and saw action in the Pacific theater of that war, encountering battles in the Marshall Islands, Guam, and the especially violent Okinawa campaign. For years, I have heard my grandfather speak of this last surviving uncle with great affection and pride and I have longed for the opportunity to meet this family member who had such an important link to the history of both my family and this country.

So, my parents and grandparents loaded into the car and we made it up to Thomasville, NC to the home of my grandfather's cousin Athlene, where Colin and his wife were staying, to rendevous with them and an assortment of other elderly cousins and relatives of my grandfather. I had never met many of them before in my entire life, and if I had I could tell it had been a while when they looked at me in disbelief over how tall I had gotten since the last time I had been in their company.

Like any pleasant, God-fearing Southern family, the fellowship included Lexington style BBQ and the growlings of Athlene's blind dog named Elijiah as he struggled to understand what was going on in the darkness that surrounded them. The meal was fantastic. The company hilarious. The chance to meet the oldest surviving member of my grandfather's family was priceless. As I prepared to leave earlier this evening, Colin embraced me and was so grateful for having finally met me. I returned the sentiments and wished him the best until we meet again, wherever and whenever that might be.

Taking Down Trees & Putting Up Brick

I just returned from a brisk, sweltering walk to the new library here on the campus of Campbell University when I saw an all too familiar, and unfortunate, sight. Crews had delimbed a massive oak tree outside of the science building on campus that had been damaged and nearly destroyed by a storm last year. Half of the tree was gone, but the half that remained was strong, supporting it's massive limbs and ensuring that all of the leaves would not die, but that they would remain green and healthy for the foreseeable future. Well, that future ended today.

It would be a common enough sight around campus to note this tree removal, but compare that removal of greenery to the massive effort that has been underway to put in more brick "monumentation" around campus. Brick is pretty if you look at it vertically ascending on the side of a building or residence hall. It's not such a wondrous sight when you see it splayed out on the ground before you, with no sprig of grass or weed yet daring to creep under it's skin. I'm all for progress, but I would like to see a more measured approach towards preserving what we have already against what we would like to add to this delicate, beautiful campus.

It is ironic however that more time and planning was probably given to the removal of this damaged, yet thriving, tree than has been given to the potential removal of another massive, yet completely dead, tree that stands next to Butler Chapel. Next time, let's look to remove the deadwood rather than that which is thriving still.

What is Life?

That question was posed by the former Beatle, George Harrison, on his debut solo album, "All Things Must Pass." Though not a philosophical composition by any means (it took him 30min to write this diddy about living apart from another's love) the question is still a very striking one. As a another birthday has passed me by, 23 is no longer the famed number on Michael Jordan's jersey, but my age. An age I could never imagine back when MJ was still playing for the Bulls and it is still hard to comprehend even now.

The other night, I was speaking with Daniel about our advancements in age and remarked how in 7 shorts years, we would be 30. Now, that might seem hard to imagine for someone still in their early 20s, but just 7 short years ago I turned 16. That seemed like yesterday! Does that mean that 30 is just around the corner of tomorrow? I hope not.

Some people are scared to death of the future. You see that fear when middle aged women and men get botox injections and hair plugs. You see it when friends parents try to be trendy and instead come off as tacky. Now, that doesn't mean that when you hit 50 you should buy velcro sneakers and a box of metamucil. With age comes (hopefully) maturity, and with that maturity, a confidence that you are on the right track of a purpose, a calling, a journey. I still have no idea what that journey ahead looks like for me, but with another year under my belt, I'm packing some pretty good experience for the road ahead.