A year later (and a couple days)

While I was in Houston I learned that several of the people that had migrated from New Orleans a year ago stayed in Houston rather than go back. I don't know what Houston's population is now, but it's probably a good 100,000 more than it "should" be. [And by "should" I'm referring to the fact that the displacement of people is more permanent than what was supposed to occur.]

Only half of New Orleans' population has returned to the city a year after Hurricane Katrina hit. And as we hit the 1-year marking of the hurricane's landfall (I think the actual anniversary was back on Tuesday) several site engines (namely ESPN, CNN, and the Weather Channel) have had inspirational stories about people having been displaced and their respective stories, regardless of whether they returned or not.

One of the "new" friends I made over the summer (we were both in Music History but I didn't know her then) went to a university in New Orleans for her freshman year but transferred to Olaf after news got out that the other school was going to be closed for some time. I think her family still in lives in southern LA (probably in an area that didn't get hit) but I got to hear another story about how the hurricane impacted someone's life. I mean, I've read stories about various people (athletes namely) who either have been displaced or donated to the cause, but primary sources are more convincing for me (probably because I don't learn about them on the internet).

New Orleans is still a dump. There's no water in the streets (probably haven't been since last September) but there are still a lot of broken buildings and damaged plant life, and the mayor is trying to recruit the ex-townspeople to return, albeit rather unsuccessfully. I'd compare New Orleans' trainwreck to St. Luke's, but then again, New Orleans didn't deserve to lose their people.

So many words, so little time

So basically since I last posted (whenever that was), a lot of things have happened in the world: the Cubs and Sox have fallen, the USA basketball team is doing well, and Facebook added a gadget where one could post his/her blog onto the site. [Don't worry, I'm not so stupid to think that's a good idea.]

And over the last couple days, Northfield got hit with hail, New York City a tornado, and the bustling little hamlets known as Chicago and Houston got pelted with some nasty rainstorms as well; but all the while I somehow picked the perfect time to go to someplace completely new: Carlsbad, New Mexico.

The city (or town? I have no idea how big it is) itself didn't impress me very much. It's a lot like a Texas town, with sideways traffic lights, dilapidated sidewalks, and brand-name stores that I never heard of before. The Caverns, on the other hand, were pretty damn amazing. Well, amazing in the sense that we got to go on a candelight tour of one of the deepest caves off the beaten path, and probably damn near fell off it, given how risky the ground was.

But amazing as the caves themselves were (and they were pretty freaking amazing), there was nothing like watching the bats fly out at sunset. They're not great fliers, but the manner in which they fly just takes my breath away, in that we consider how misunderstood these creatures are (they're assumed to be dark, evil bug-like animals that can't see in the light) and how un-gracefully they fly. But then we realize that, like birds, they fly in teams, and that they really rely on each other for pretty much everything: food, warmth, even shelter. Birds are much more independent animals, and since it's human nature to admire birds much more than bats we tend to emulate them more, relying on ourselves than each other.

But it was good to get away. I had never been this far out west (my previous far-west record was Denton, TX), and I got to experience the joys of driving in an 80-mph zone, as shown below.

I actually was having a little too much fun with the high-speed zone; I went 85 much of the time. I was tempted to go faster, like 90 or 95 even, but I couldn't know for sure if there would be absolutely no cops patrolling the zone (why would they, there's NOTHING there!).

Driving aside, it was fun flashing pictures in the dark caves--I had about 100 of them before the camera's battery went dead about 2/3 through the walking tour--but I got some pretty neat pics, like the one with the lion's tail impression and the yellow staircase.

I even got a pretty awesome pic of me whistling in the Big Room; it's a really big cave complex, probably several miles wide in each direction. [I actually didn't whistle, since it probably would have sent an eerie echo throughout the space; but still a fun pic nonetheless.]

Right before I left St. Olaf for the end of the summer, I was hanging out with a couple friends when we found a bat flying in the hallway. It was pretty freaky, because I'd never seen a bat up close. But fortunately we grabbed a few sheets, nabbed it, and released it back into the wild. After all, bats are mammals too, and we can't even say that about birds.

And I saw a new Church

I went to the Episcopal church in town for the first time today. It was great to sing hymns that I knew, as well as recite text I knew. And the sermon wasn't bad. Since today was the Feast Sunday of the Virgin Mary (the official saint's day is Tuesday) we got a sermon about what it must've been like to be Mary when she received God's plan for her and lived her life according to it, and how God could call us to bring the best of our gifts to His people. I also didn't realize how much I missed the church's flowery texts.

Countdown is 2 days. But I still have to pack, get gas (gag), and drive for 8 hours. [Since I'm broke I'm driving through Milwaukee and then down Route 41 as soon as I hit Illinois.]

World Trade Center

"You never know what you have until you lose it."

I saw the movie World Trade Center this evening at the local movie theater. It takes the stories of a couple Port Authority police officers who were called to duty at the site of the twin towers on the day of the airplane attacks back in 2001, and highlights their struggles while trapped underneath the rubble. After the movie I had a discussion with a friend as to where we were on that day when it happened and how it affected each of us. As we were talking, it got me thinking back to how close I was to the *ahem* action even though I was in a completely different time zone when it happened.

I don't recall much from the day itself, but I remember during my 8 AM Algebra 2 class sophomore year in HS, Mr. Doar, the head of the school, entered the classroom and whispered in my math teacher's ear. She then told us "the US is under attack. The World Trade Center has been destroyed." If you've seen the movies Independence Day and/or Deep Impact, you'd get a pretty accurate description of what I thought had happened. I imagined the twin towers as either knocked over or perhaps still [barely] standing but with a bunch of weird holes in it. Or, perhaps half the buildings had been sliced off and tossed in another part of the neighborhood. It didn't help that the school cancelled classes for awhile (I think it was an hour or so) and we spent time listening to the radio. So I had no idea what was going on, because I had no visual; it was all reporters talking, so I was left to try to imagine what was going on.

It wasn't till around noon or so when I finally saw for the first time what had happened. And believe you me, I was devastated. Knowing that only a couple years before I had gone up to the outside observation deck with my dad and taken some pictures, I had a hard time grasping that a place that I once stood (several times, even) was no longer there. Thusly, I had a very hard time accepting that such an incident had happened. Technically I'd only seen it on TV at the time, so there was still a good chance that it was all a hoax, and I could return to NYC and it would be like it was before. I recall I had several recurring dreams about it, more for trying to understand for myself why it happened.

The first time I returned to NY post-9/11 was in 2004, when I returned to St. Thomas for Dr. (and Dr.) Hancock's retirement party and final service. On the bus going from the Newark Airport to the Port Authority, I couldn't help but stare in wonderment at the NYC skyline, since it was the first time I'd seen it live since the collapse. So of course, given my refusal to believe that the towers were destroyed, I was excited to see a pair of "twin towers" in about the same spot that I'd expect them to be. Unfortunately, it was kind of a misty day, so it probably helped in creating such illusion. As the bus got closer to the Lincoln Tunnel (we were on the road in NJ at the time) I noticed that the "twin towers" had drifted off to the right, and were currently in front of a bridge. It was then that I realized that I was looking at a pair of smokestacks.

The following day, I went to Ground Zero to look for myself, and I was shocked to find that it still was true. By that point it looked more like a construction site (the rubble had long since been cleared out), but I spent a good long time (probably an hour or so) trying to accept that everything I knew about the place was gone, different. I was pretty much consumed by this sad awe. I didn't show any emotion, but perhaps it showed in that it was hard for me to pry myself away from this place.

When I returned to NY earlier this year we had some free time at the beginning of the trip. We pretty much ventured the extremes of Manhattan Island, and it did include a stopover at Ground Zero. A couple people from our group had to excuse themselves from seeing it; it probably would've been extremely emotional for them. It was definitely easier to go this time; by this time I had accepted this ungodly hole as reality. By this time I had let go of the evil that stemmed from the attack. It helped that I had been reading more news about the construction of the next tall structure that would stand in the place of the twin towers.

Since that day there have been numerous attacks and bomb attemps across several parts of the world. Last summer there were three separate explosions in London's Underground, plus another one on a city bus. And not too long ago, British authorities foiled another possible terrorist attack, having detected several liquid bombs at a security checkpoint. Of course, now all liquids and gels are being temporarily banned from airports. [I'm not happy about that at all, especially since I'm flying in 10 days.]

But that's life. Like several other situations that I've witnessed and/or dealt with, this one will pass. To some people, it's been only five years since the September 11th attacks. To others (myself included), it's been five years. I was talking with a friend from home a couple springs ago about a whole slew of life situations (including several bad ones). When the conversation steered toward the 9/11 attacks, he made a great point about how it's understandable to mourn for the first year or so after the attacks, but after a while, there are other things in life that demand more attention. So while it's important to "never forget," it's equally if not more important to let go and move on with life. Just like continued mourning won't bring back a dead friend or loved one, it sure as heck won't bring back a couple of destroyed buildings or undo a few stupid political, militaric, social, or economic decisions.

I recall a fellow HS'er remark on September 11th that we need to move on. [Yes that's true, but it's the wrong time to say it.] It wasn't time to move on yet for most of us. It was still fresh in most everyone's mind; it's damn near impossible just to forget about something that just happened. But over the last few years, as the incident and its memories grow more and more distant, it's been time to move on. I can think of several incidents in my life since then where I could apply the same logic (at least to me anyway): the Bartman Ball game, the fall of St. Luke's, and the deaths of Michael Lefkow and Allen Strehlow (there are others as well). I do know that for some more closely affected by each event that it is still hard to let any or all of these events go, but there comes a time when we must move on.

Therein lies a rare true beauty of human nature: resiliency. It's what keeps John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno (the two trapped surviving officers in the movie) going. It's a gift we so rarely thank God for, but we should try to do it more often.

Despite the rumors

I was late again for church (although only by a couple minutes this time), and for the second week in a row I felt a strong yearning for a different kind of service. I will have to admit, not only was I late but I also sat in the pews on the opposite side of the sanctuary from where several friends (but not necessarily good friends) were. So I felt a little out of place.

The sermon, once again, was pretty good. The pastor picked up from where he left off last week in talking about what happened after the feeding of the five thousand. After the miracle the people started following Jesus and asked him for more food. But instead of offering another miracle, he offers himself to them, asking them to put their complete trust in him for something greater than simply "another five thousand loaves of bread." It's one trait of God (technically Jesus, but they're both one and the same) that actually makes sense to me, even though I can't really get a handle on it.

Anyway I was hanging out with a couple friends last night and I caught one of them saying he was going to skip church for the first time in a while. I asked him where he normally went to church, and he said the Episcopal church in town. I recalled he told me he was Episcopalian. I have never been to that church yet, but over the last couple years I've been meaning to go there (on and off, though). But a revelation that came to me today while I was at the Baptist church was that I had missed what the Episcopal church had to offer. On the one hand, pretty much any sermon that I go to at Emmaus will be a good one, but I realized I miss singing hymns that I know. That was another thing; I didn't know any of this morning's hymns. I don't remember what the focus of the Episcopal church's ministry is, but I think I gotta get back to it soon.

So despite the rumors that I might be Baptist or some other "out-there" Protestant denomination, I'm still Episcopalian. And despite my repeated statements that I [almost] call Minnesota home, Chicago's still home until I physically leave.