Halfway.

I'm halfway through my senior year. Halfway! Only about four more months.

This week I went up to Sundance with a group of students from Grenobles, France. It taught me how little French I have learned in the last six years, but also that you don't always have to understand each other perfectly to make new friends. And also that it's not cool to say "C'est chouette!" Apparently it's the French version of "It's groovy!" Way outdated. Embarrassing.

I always thought a good way to deal with problems was to go out and dance and party and do crazy stuff and forget about everything else. But it turns out that one of the best things is laying on the couch for 3 hours on a Friday night and talking. Talking about the past, the present, the future, and the way things change. Sometimes that is better than getting lost in people and loud music.

Have I told you that you are strong?

"A woman named Helen Keller fought her way 

through long, silent darkness.

Though she could not see or hear, 

she taught us to look at and listen to each other.

Never waiting for life to get easier, 

she gave others courage to face their challenges."

Of Thee I Sing - Barack Obama

The Giving Gift.

After he had unwrapped his gifts on Christmas morning the the 5 year old boy’s mother asked him which one of his presents he wanted to donate to a poor child who had less than him. “None”, the boy replied. His mom sat him on her lap and explained to him thatsharing with those who were less forunate was part of the holiday spirit and how a child who had less would probably be very happy to receive a gift. This took some convincing from mom but the boy eventually agreed to part with one of his gifts. Mom told him that he could have until the following morning to decide. The day after Christmas the boy put his four gifts in front of him and tried to decide which one to part with. It was a difficult decision. His eyes scanned over the toy flute, book of Aesop’s Fables, Popeye book bag, and the toy dump truck with doors that really opened. He decided that he part with the flute. “Where do we take it?” he asked his mother. His mother explained that there was a Salvation Army box two streets away and that the people who emptied this box would make sure that it got to a child who needed a gift. “How will they know it is for a child?”, he asked. His mother told him that he could tape a note to the flute and she helped him to write one that read, “Please make sure this gets to a kid who doesn’t have a lot of toys.” After securely attaching the note to the flute the boy said, “I forgot to write my name, how will they know who this came from?” His mother explained that they wouldn’t need to know who it came from and how sometimes part of giving was doing it so that others wouldn’t know where it came from, like putting coins in the poor box at church. “Well, can I please write my name?” His mother said it would be okay and he wrote his name at the end of the note.

This parting with a gift the day after Christmas became a yearly ritual. When he was 8 years old the boy so treasured the gifts that he had that the decision needed to be made by eeny-meny-miny-mo and he had to part with a set of checkers. “I really love these, mom,” the boy said. His mother said that he could select something else but he didn’t want to have to decide again. His mother left the room and returned with a piece of cardboard, the boy’s crayons, and his bottle cap collection. Together they created a board and set of checkers. “I bet no other kid in the world has checkers like these,” he said. That year he decided all on his own not to put his name on the note that he attached to the checkers box. Three months later when he saw a checkers set at his friend Jerry’s house he fought back the temptation to say “that was mine” after Jerry had told him that an army man had brought it to his door.

When he was 10 years old the laundromat where his mother worked closed shortly after Thanksgiving and gifts were sparse. On Christmas he looked over his three inexpensive gifts. His mother came and sat beside him and told him that this year he didn’t have to part with a gift. At first this sounded great but when he woke up the morning after Christmas he thought about how much fun he had seen Jerry have with the checkers and how the giving gift could be secret and magical. He told his mother that he wanted to put his new football in the Salvation Army box. “You don’t have to do that,” his mother said. He told her that he wanted to. She got teary-eyed and gave him a big hug.

Six months later his mother’s birthday was approaching and the boy emptied his piggy bank and counted out three dollars and forty-nine cents. “What would you like for your birthday?” he asked his mother. She was silent for a moment and then she spoke, “I’ve noticed Billy playing catch football with his dad and it looks like a lot of fun. I think I would like a football.” That year his mother got a football for her birthday.

The giving gift tradition continued into adulthood. One Christmas his own 5 year old boy asked him, “What was the best gift you got for Christmas when you were a kid?” He wanted to explain to his son that the best gift he ever received didn’t come in a box, it wasn’t wrapped and you couldn’t even hold it in your hand.

He tried to explain the giving gift as best as he could in words that a young child might understand. "Do you still do that, Dad?" His father explained that he had not missed a Christmas in over 30 years. The following day the father selected a new sweater and wrote directly on the white box, “Please give this to someone who needs it.” As he was getting ready for the drive to the Salvation Army box his son asked, “Can I come?” The father asked the boy to have his mother help him put on his boots, hat, and coat while Dad went to warm up the car. The father sat in the car waiting for ten minutes and thought about the Christmas of the first giving gift. He was just about to go back inside to see what was taking his son so long when the little boy came running out with a new play-doh set in his hands. “Dad, can you help me write the note?”

By Brian Joseph

Perception.

Too much beauty in the world is about having big eyes and full lips.
What about having eyes that can see the way to change the world, and lips that can speak the words to do it?

I'm not quite sure what to think.

There are some things that I hate.

I hate when my car has a cracked radiator, and in order to find that out I have to smoke out an entire street with my overheating engine.
I hate homework, especially statistics.
I hate cold weather.
I hate seeing people being judged. People are judgmental. It's weird how after someone pulls through a challenge, you can look back and say wow, they are so cool and strong. But when they're in the middle of it, it's so easy for people to judge them.
I hate meatloaf.
Most of all, I hate when someone tells you something you already know, but haven't been able to admit. And then all of a sudden, there it is, written out for you in plain English and you know you're going to have to agree and it's not going to be easy.

But then again, there are some things that I love.

I love having the heater in my car working again... and okay, I secretly loved my smoking car because it was funny.
I love learning, especially psychology and French.
I love snow.
I love seeing people overcome judgment. When someone can pull out and be who they are, no matter what anyone says.
I love tofu.
But most of all, I love having people in my life that tell me what I need to hear, even if it is going to be hard. They have faith in me. They care. I love that, and I love them.

Nature.

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.  Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.  The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves." 

John Muir

Being your own.

Being independent is an interesting thing. It's not about making your own decisions really. It's about furthering your own life. So many of my friends talk about how excited they are to graduate so they can finally do what they want instead of being ordered around by their parents. But when I ask them what they are going to do, exactly, they have no answer. Apparently they are just going to sit around in their new free life and do a whole lot of nothing.

I'm excited to graduate too, of course, but not so I can just wave goodbye to my parents in the rearview mirror. I'm excited to get out there and do something with my life! College and a career and my own family are waiting for me and I can't wait to grab them! Isn't that what independence is? Getting somewhere?

There are always people who "can do what they want". And they can. Sometimes doing drugs is what they want so they go get them, or other people's stuff is what they want so they go steal it. And they do, and they get what they want. They're making their own decisions. But what they don't realize is that by doing what they want, sometimes they get things that they don't want, too. A meth addict sitting in rehab did what he wanted, but now he's stuck there and has to make a long, hard trip back. He made all his own decisions, but he's not independent.

We all want to make our own decisions, and we all can. But we all want to be independent as well, and it may not always be the same thing.