She came out of nowhere...

...and sat right down next to me.

I was returning from GEOINT 2009, having boarded a plane in San Antonio destined for a two and a half hour layover in Phoenix. I sat in my cramped seat doing my best to pour over the writings of Sayyid Qutb, when I heard a bubbly female voice with an English accent ask me what I was reading.

I looked up to spot an eccentrically-stylish older woman with a big smile on her face craning her head to see. I'm often pretty eager to talk about my schoolwork as it allows me to assess whether or not I understand what I'm reading, but it's usually not a good idea to fess up to mature Caucasian ladies that you're reading the "feel-good" handbook for Islamic fundamentalists.

But she seemed so lovely and sincere that my eagerness to meet her request overran my usual discretion. I mumbled some broken explanation about the "Milestones" text and my study focus on terrorism and SE Asia. What happened next still makes me chuckle...

"Oh, REALLY? I'm sitting next to YOU!"
Plop. She fell into the middle seat right next to me and crammed her big bag of crazy (something that always seems to accompany eccentric gals) under her seat. She immediately started to chat me up. Who I was, where I lived, what my degrees were; anything and everything about my life.

I don’t mind a little conversation now and then, so I answered her as best as I could. I told her about my near misses in the Army, my family and my return to school. Inevitably, our conversation turned to topics about her and that’s when she wowed me.

Ms. Helen’s mother had fled the Nazis early in her life and then the whole family fled the rise of communism in Czechoslovakia in the 50s. This path led her them to England where she would then receive her calling to travel around the world in missionary/humanitarian service. A hard life to be sure, but somehow this lady took a bowl full of lemons and made herself one tasty glass of lemonade:
She’s visited 108 countries.
She’s written two books and is working on a third.
She travels all around the world, giving lectures on religious, social and economic issues.
Best of all, she and her husband are aiding a family of Pakistanis in securing a home in the US.

This brief bio does this woman little credit.
By far, the most valuable part of our conversation came from our discussion about the nuances and context of Muslims and their view of the western world.

In a nutshell, Ms. Helen and I discussed how the constant stream of media from the US into the rest of the world defined their perceptions of Americans.
We talked about how fundamentalist Islam isolates many Muslims into believing that Americans are violent, uncaring and oversexed heathens out to contaminate the rest of the world with our corruption. We also discussed how this same religion debases the value of women and becomes more and more orthodox and hard-lined the closer you get to Mecca. It was very enlightening.

But her greatest lesson to me was how I should endeavor to understand Islam and its practices before I judge the actions of extremists. Certainly, their violent actions and extreme views are unbecoming of a supposedly peaceful faith. But when I understand the motives, fears and reasons for their actions, I can think on their causes and analysis with a bit more academic clarity.

As an explanation, she offered this anecdote.

In a very remote village, there lived these two female Christian missionaries who served the community by providing some minor medical care. Each morning, these gals would wake up and mosey over to the local well to wash up and brush their teeth. The gals noticed that they always had a captive audience for their morning routine, so they took pride in the fact that they were demonstrating good hygiene to the villagers and a friendly demeanor by answering questions about who they were, where they were from, what they did, etc.

Helen explained to me that the villagers had a very different idea of these missionaries.

Every morning, these two pale foreign women walked to the village well to partake of their morning water rituals. The first ritual required them to pour water over their hands and faces. Afterwards, they enacted a second ritual where they would apply some cotton to the ends of sticks and then stab their faces until they frothed at the mouth and spat out.
Once they were done with their strange rituals, the village chief asked them about their origins. They lived together, but they weren’t mother & daughter, sisters or even relatives. Naturally, the villagers thought they were lesbians. But since they passed out the occasional band-aid and mostly kept to themselves, they were allowed to stay.

Context is everything.

She cautioned me to understand the factors that added up to the sum of their fears.
What is it that makes them so hostile? Would you be just as hostile if you were in their place?

It was a sobering epiphany. As a political scientist and geographer, I tend to think on a more strategic and empirical level of analysis. But this quirky little wordsmith reminded me to remember what it is that makes these people human.

Sadly, we arrived in Phoenix all too soon. We exchanged a quick farewell and she gave me a business card. And just like that, she vanished into the throng of the airport crowd.

What an experience. In just two short hours, this lady taught me to never forget that everyone has a human side and follows their own logical path. In her own witty way, she made me a better scientist.

I know a lot of smart people. But it is a rare occasion that I meet anyone who is genuinely wise.

Thank you, Helen.

San Antonio and GEOINT 2009...

I had the good fortune of winning a fellowship in the US Geospatial Intelligence Foundation.
One of the perks to this scholarship (other than the $$$) was free admission to their annual symposium, otherwise known as GEOINT.

Wow. What a spread.
Advertisers and defense contractors come from all around the world to schmooze gov't officials into dropping tons o' cash into their intelligence products. It's mind-blowing how much money goes into just networking.

More on that later.

This was my first experience with the City of San Antonio and I've got to say...it's absolutely beautiful. My Adviser and I are staying at the Marriott Riverwalk Hotel right across from the convention center. Best of all, it's right along the riverwalk, which I eagerly explored before our first GEOINT function.

Check it out:

The view straight down from our balcony.
Awesome.









These little barges are everywhere.
I'm going to try to hop a ride on one of these before I leave...if they aren't too expensive.









Once on the riverwalk, I was blown away by how pretty and clean it was.

Baby, we've got to come here at least once before we die.






The architecture encompassing the riverwalk is beautiful.









Not to mention the beautiful statuary.












After checking out the Tower of the Americas, I took a long walk down the riverwalk proper.








Apparently, San Antone is a big missionary town. There are several large catholic missions all throughout the city. (Makes me wonder why they decided to hole up in the Alamo.)










Best of all, the sidewalk runs right alongside the river in true "imperial" fashion...no handrails.








And the sidewalks are crowded, too.
I wonder how many folks have ended up in the drink?











Still, it's beauty cannot be denied.

Mighty Little Man...

Kids have a way of changing your life.
For better or for worse, they take everything you know and turn it on its ear, forcing you to rethink your entire existence, step outside of your comfort zone and make life-decisions on the fly.

They change everything...
And yet their innocence, wonder and unquestionable love for you fill your heart with pride and confidence in the hope that you can make a positive difference in this one little life.

My son turned ten years old today.

He has endured 10 years of life with a mind-crippling disease that has narrowed the potential of his fruition and defined his victory in life as simple survival.
10 years of living in a fog.

He has no friends his age and certainly no comrades who'll spend time with him for the want of his company.
10 years of solitude.

In this long decade, my boy has cried nearly once per day.
That's 10 years of tears.

My son has had an army of doctors, therapists, social workers and teachers try to slowly decode his mental condition in hopes of piercing the fog of his mind and finding that one thing that helps him advance cognitively...All to little avail.
10 years of trying.

And what about me?
This threshold in his life has served as a point of reflection in mine.
I look at him now and think about all the times I've been angry or frustrated with him.
Every moment that I've yelled at him or been forceful with him erupts into my mind's eye and I experience once more the guilt and self-loathing that came in its aftermath.
It reminds me of how wretched and imperfect I am.
It reminds me of how undeserving I am of his love.

And yet, he gives it anyway.
Regardless of how I've acted in the past, my boy still seeks me out for comfort and companionship. He still seeks me out for horseplay and hijinks. And whenever he's down and wants kisses and cuddles, he still looks for Daddy.

And I give it to him. Whenever he wants it and whenever I can, I hug that little man every chance I get. Can you blame me? I'd get on my knees and beg his forgiveness if I thought it would work. But instead I think he'd just climb on my back to play horsey.

I'll never be able to tell, but I want to believe that's his way of forgiving me for my faults.
His love and affection shows me that I still have worth in his eyes.
"Apology accepted, Dad. Now giddyap!"

As hard as Vincent's Autism has been for him, I think that it's been harder for Lisa and I. I mean, we're not the ones suffering the fate. But ours is a sad existence because we know just how hard the world can be for someone like him. I think that's why it hurts so much.

But through it all, my child has been unconditionally loved by a lot of people. Myself, Lisa, his grandparents, family and friends. The people who get to know him become strengthened and uplifted by his perseverance and good humor.

He makes people better.
What more could a father want from his son?

So let me just say thank you.
Thank you Vincent, for all the playing, dreams and laughter.
Thank you for being a shining star in your mother's eyes and for touching the lives of all you meet.
Thank you for being good to your sister and for being someone she looks up to.
Thank you for being a good boy at home and for working hard at school.
But most of all, thank you for constantly forgiving me of my foibles and making me a better man.

I love you so much, my Mighty Little Man.
Regardless of your cognitive state, you've given me an abundance of warmth, nurturing and care.
10 years of love.

Happy Birthday, Vincent.

A Matter of Geographic Perspective

I was recently tasked with reading and writing about chapter 20 of a book called "All Possible Worlds," by Martin. It was pretty interesting as far as academic reading goes. But it really did drive home some rather harrowing realizations about my chosen field.

Here's what I wrote:

When I first chose to become a geography graduate student, I shamefully admit that I had only a rudimentary idea as to how geographic research was conducted. I believed that a problem or interrelation of variables was postulated by hypotheses and afterwards tested by a collection of data and subsequent analysis. In a way, my rough “crayon drawing” of scientific inquiry was somewhat correct. But it was not until I completed my reading of Chapter 20 of All Possible Worlds that I truly understood the scope that is geographic research.

Geography as an academic discipline is as enormous as the planet that it studies. Its cardinal traditions are stippled together by countless sub-fields. These sub-fields are governed by the previous work of scholars through methods ranging from abstract theories and philosophies to hardened empirical mathematics. During my whole undergraduate career, I never realized how my chosen field blended all the hard and soft sciences into one distinct focus of study.

Unable to resist the temptation, I sought to match my undergraduate works my with the scholarly traditions and methods that best fit my study foci. As expected, much of my senior essays depicted me as Political Geographer and Area Studies Traditionalist who performed his analysis through the use of socio-political theory and a little empirical examination. This is of course, a generous categorization as my study processes were never as detailed as those described in the text. Nonetheless, I was somewhat proud to see that the methods I had utilized for an “A” class grade were those utilized to build scholarly knowledge. As such, it appears that I am on the right track.

I was also grateful to draw some pearls of wisdom from this reading as well. The section regarding the use of dichotomies and abstractions made me realize that not everything that I have read for geography may be true. The fact that the reading itself encourages students to question the age-old precepts of geographic thought really shed light on how scientific thought progresses. As an accent to the point, Haggett’s statement on how progress is marked “by the sound of plummeting hypotheses” drove this notion into my mind like an intellectual spike.

The other counsels and cautions that I gleaned from this reading stemmed from the “CONCEPTUAL STRUCTURE OF GEOGRAPHY” section starting on page 516. Percepts and Concepts, Patterns and Processes, Descriptions and Explanations; the meanings of these words were finally made clear to me along with the careful steps leading to the creation, measurement and implementation of geographic research. So vast were the concepts, methodologies and theories of geography that my initial sentiment at the completion of this reading was one of overwhelmed bewilderment.

Thankfully, this feeling would not last. After some time thinking on what I had just read, the information that I had synthesized from Chapter 20 of All Possible Worlds left me feeling encouraged and calm at the thought of pursuing a geographic career. I say this because after all the reading about disciplines, methods, fields and scopes, I became aware that the academic world of geography still had room for whatever I chose to write about. Thus whether my work is of ground-breaking importance or simply adds to the building of a body of literature, I too can contribute to the honored field that I have chosen to follow.

OH! About the move...

The move went off without a hitch.
We were loaded up, moved and unloaded in less than 2.5 hours! (Special thanks to all my friends and neighbors who helped!)

Now the worst part is all the unpacking and cleaning up.
Lis' ain't worried. This we can pursue pretty slowly.

Now comes Grad School.

Prelude to the Move

Yeah, I'm moving.

The current housing area that I live in is slowly strong-arming families into moving out so they can fill every apartment with single grad students.
More bodies = more money.

The last straw for us was the unannounced rent hike that put us within $12 of a three BR in the older family housing areas.


$12 for an extra bedroom in a family-friendly community? I'll buy it.

So we bought it.
On Saturday, the Fam & I will be moving.
As usual, the biggest pain in the ass is the packing and sorting.
Thankfully, the Mrs and I have been at it for about a month now.
Not bad, eh?

Now it's renting the U-haul, onloading, offloading and unpacking just to do it all over again in two years. Ah, the academic life.

I'll be sure to comment on how the move went later on.

Thanks to the army of folks who are coming out to help us move.
We couldn't do this without y'all.

Los Angeles: Monday, June 22

I wanted to do something special today for my last day in LA.

My Mom, the kids and I all loaded into the car and motored out to Marina Del Rey.

It’s just a quiet little beach that most folks know little about. But for me, it is a page torn right out of my childhood. You see…Back in the day, my Ma used to bring me to this beach (via bus) so I could splash and play at little risk from high surf due to the breakwater. We were frequent visitors to this spot up until my teenage years, when I foolishly became “too cool” to go to the beach with my Mom.

God, I was such a dumb-ass.

For my Mom, she had related to me an anecdote about dreaming herself onto our special beach to take her away from the pains of cancer treatment and chemotherapy. It was a small solace to her that was nearly crushed by her frail constitution. At her worst, Mom thought she would never see our little patch of seashore again.

This was true…until today.

We went.

We went and my children splashed and played.

We went and Mom got her feet wet again.

And while Amelia was somewhat distraught by the vastness of the ocean, she was able to conquer her initial fear of the waves with my Mom at her side.

It was a magical moment and easily the highlight of the trip.

At around 2pm, the lot of us went to the Fisherman’s Village to gnosh on some authentic fish ‘n chips and enjoy a cold beer. It was the perfect cap to the perfect day.

Or so I thought.

When we got home, my sister called up and told us she would be able to visit tonight along with my niece and her beau. That was great fun, considering my kids got along with her so well. Best of all, Vince got a free haircut thanks to the shearing prowess of his cousin!

Sadly, I was in a bit of a sour mood because I was trying to pack my suitcases to save time tomorrow.

But my sister’s visit was just like my brother’s in regards to the quiet gloom of inevitable separation.

Theirs too was a teary departure.

Now all that’s left is saying goodbye to my folks and making the “goodbye” trip to the airport with my bro.

Then it’s good ol’ SLC again and back to work. Yay.

Los Angeles: Sunday, June 21 (Father's Day)

Visits occurring close to departure dates tend to be pretty weird. There always seems to be this aura of quiet desperation where everyone is making that final attempt to be close to loved ones and make memorable moments. I usually find this to be pretty depressing, yet I always end up participating in the activities.

We spent Father’s Day in this manner. My nieces and nephew played as hard as they could with Vincent and Amelia in order to engrain themselves into their psyche. I played around and cracked jokes in hopes of covering up the quiet depression that wells up inside of me at the thought of saying goodbye. My parents, my brother and my sister-in-law view this all from behind eyes that are accepting of life’s jabs and shortcomings. Such is their wisdom.

What’s to say about Father’s Day? I received a great gift from my generous brother and ate more than my fill of my Mom’s shrimp ceviche. The rest of the time was spent laughing, playing, talking and listening as we all waited for that final moment when we would have to say goodbye.

And come it did…all too quickly.

The memory is still vivid in my mind.

The black beast is pulling away with some of the most loving people I know inside. My daughter waves shiningly at her cousins, oblivious of the hiatus to come but genuine in her projection of affection.

And Vince? Well, Vince watches his extended family leave with the usual wretched, but quiet resignation that comes from watching the people he loves fade away once more into conceptual distance and photographs. Any other child would be in tears at this moment, but not my son.

It’s no matter. I cry for him.

Tomorrow will be my last full day in Los Angeles.

I shall endeavor to make it a memorable one.

Los Angeles: Saturday, June 20

We were big homebodies today and decided to hang out at the house in order to greet my sister, who was traveling in from Pasadena. When she arrived the two of us chatted the time away, catching up on work, children and all the little things that make life interesting. Best of all, both Amy and Vince were very affectionate in my sister’s company and were even comfortable enough to give big goodbye kisses and hugs to their Tia. My kids can be real champs sometimes.

After giving my sis a lift to the bus stop, I motored around my little burg to find a wifi hot spot I could use to check e-mail and post tweets. My first step was to check the local Starbucks. (You know, there just aren’t enough of those places!) Can you believe those knuckleheads CHARGE for the privilege of using their wifi?!? It’s like $25 for a year’s worth of use or something. Preposterous!!!

Thankfully, there was a Staples nearby that offered free wifi and I was eager to accept their generosity!

Tweets posted and e-mails checked!

As I was wrapping up, my sister-in-law (Eddie’s wife) phoned me up and told me that all the Palmdale Z’s had come to my parents’ house to visit and play with the children. What a pleasant surprise!!! I hurried back to my old place and spent the next four hours playing hacky-sack, ball bump, tag and wrestling with my kids, brother, nieces and nephew. It was rejuvenating! Best of all, my babies were treated to an LA summer staple…a visit to the Ice Cream Truck!!! (Ice cream sandwich for Squirt. Tweetie-bird fruit cream for Pooka. ;-)

As with all good things, the time finally came for the kids to go home. But instead of heading back to the High Desert, they informed me that they’d be staying in town and would be coming to visit tomorrow for Father’s Day! Extra time for playing and fellowship?!? Gimme, gimme!!!

It’s almost time for me to leave, LA. :-(

Be home soon, Love.

Most of these photos are covered in my LA Misc set. Enjoy!

.

Los Angeles: Friday, June 19

I had to drop the “nah” to my brother for visiting his place in Palmdale. Sadly, I wasn’t proud of my resolve due to Eddie’s dutiful diligence in picking me up from LAX every trip and his children’s absolute affection for my wilas. Truth be told, I felt terribly guilty.

However, I was consoled of this decision when I saw my kids playing around my old backyard and chasing after my parents. Slowly but surely, Amy is starting to warm up to my P’s. She plays ball with her Grandma and frequently exchanges laughs with my Dad. As usual, Vince keeps to himself. But now he’s starting to seek out my parents for anything he might want and even snuggle up to them when he’s feeling blue. It’s all incredibly heartwarming.

Once we were ready, Mom, the kids and I paid a visit to one of Mom’s closest buddies so she could show the kids off. It was a very cordial and friendly visit. But the highlight for me was when Amy and Vince (once again) switched up their gifts from this lady…and Vince played with the cuddly teddy bear while Amy had her power ranger spin-off figures fight evil and boogie down. I’ve dubbed them “Drilltor” and “Blackhawk.” Amy absolutely loves them. (That’s it! I’m buying Amy some Transformers!)

For our trip, we motored out to beautiful Palos Verdes and the tide pool park near old Ft. Macarthur. It was a perfect day, the sun was hidden behind the clouds and the water was cool and pleasant. Vince and Amy took in the view and waded around the ankle-deep water, tossing stones and chasing hermit crabs. After a while the incoming tide chased the four of us away to the “park” part of the cliffside beach, where we changed the kids’ diapers and clothes, talked about how much we loved traveling and fed the seagulls.

When we returned to the house, it was time for dinner. Mom saw that I was starting to run out of steam and coerced me to take a nap while she and my dad watched and fed the kids. I must’ve been tired because I agreed to do it. That was around five. At about seven-thirty, I awoke to hear Amy and Mom playing ball in the backyard while Vince was playing with the Wiggles. They had behaved the whole time I had slept and met me with smiles and hugs when I woke up. It was such a great feeling that I rewarded them with a nice long flick (Ice Age) and a cool bath before bedtime.

Tomorrow I get to see my sister. I’ve got to make sure I can get to a free wi-fi zone so I can post all my current blog messages, tweets and pics.

We’re enjoying ourselves immensely.

But this would be much nicer if Lisa was here too. :-(

G’night, LA.

Miss you, Baby.

Los Angeles: Thursday, June 18 (Part 2)

Today Mom, the kids and I took a trip to the Page Museum at the La Brea Tar Pits.

It is in West LA on Wilshire Blvd; an area known as The Miracle Mile. The architecture for the area is campy and beautiful. The radiant khaki “art-deco” structures crowned with palm trees reminded me of a sort of 1950s magical Los Angeles where the city gleamed of possibility and progress and anybody could make it big in show biz if they tried. A real Hollywood shine!

As for the museum, just pulling into the parking lot sparked a trip down memory lane. It was full of old elementary school field trips and the (now extinct) La Brea Halloween Festival where I had rolled down the grassy hills so much that I became nauseous and puked…..much to my Ma’s dismay.

Boy, what a bunch of laughs.

Our tour of the museum made new memories. Amy just had to explore every exhibit, but she chose the animatronic mammoth and the dire wolf displays as her favorites. (AH-WOOOOO!!!)

As for Vince, he’s never been big into museums. But he did enjoy the fact that Grandma wasn’t a big museum mover either, so the two would find a bench to cuddle up on in every new area while I chased after Amy. Good times.

After the tour, we ambled over to La Brea Park to look at some of the ongoing digs and take in a shady resting place. Can you believe that there was a tree in that park that I had climbed when I was ten? Now it’s twenty five years later and my children are climbing that very same tree. (And me too, for old time’s sake.)

The tree climbing was a perfect end to our La Brea experience.

We hopped into the car and drove past the LA Farmer’s Market, The Grove mall and all the frou-frou country clubs of West LA. We even saw a movie shoot in progress!

What a busy and wonderful day.

Good night, LA.

Miss you, Baby.

Los Angeles: Thursday, June 18

My Mom has an incredible green thumb. No foolin’, she could get a toothpick to sprout. This morning, I took a walk around her austere, yet beautiful garden to admire the love and effort she puts into her gardening. It is simply stunning. It’s like Huntington Park has an arboretum and an aviary especially for our family.

See for yourself.

Best of all is that my Dad has become an unofficial helper of my mother’s gardening endeavors. Thanks to an early retirement and his continuing impetus to work, he has landscaped much of the backyard and worked on several bird-keeping and decoration projects that have added to the “urban beauty” of the space.

Sure, it’s not the Huntington Library. It’s so much more than that. It’s been a foreign planet for my Star Wars figs, the jungles of South America for my GI Joes and a quiet hangout for my buddies and me while growing up.

Best of all, it’s now a backyard arboreal playground for my two beautiful children.

Man, I love my Mom’s garden.

Los Angeles: Wednesday, June 17

The trip from SLC to LA went very smoothly considering the plane was slammed full and my children and I were seated away from a window (with Amy on my lap). Sadly, this fact had little to do with my baby-girl’s behavior and was more due to the portable DVD player that I fired up as soon as we were airborne. Nonetheless, the minutes breezed on by in tune with the lyrical masterpieces of The Wiggles.

Once off the plane at LAX, we trooped on down to the baggage claim and met up with my brother, Eddie, and his family. Christ, it felt so wonderful to see them. After that, the kids and I were treated to some genuine rush hour traffic and a cruise down Central Blvd…aka “Cripville.” Ah, it was sooo nostalgic. I love LA.

When we finally arrived at my old home (about an hour and a half after we landed), the family reunion began. It was completely inspiring to see my parents laughing, joking and ogling over my little girl. Mom was thrilled to be recognized by Amy and Vince. And Dad….well…Dad was just happy to meet his brand new granddaughter. The stove fired up, the food came out and the catching up began. The occasion was doubly improved with the arrival of my sister, my niece and her beau. Yes, yes…hugs and kisses all around.

Unfortunately, there were some hang-ups that reminded me that I was a solo parent visiting LA with two children. Towards the end of the day, Vince broke down into tears and could only be consoled by some quiet time with me. I surmised that it was the sudden change in venue and Lisa’s absence that may have caused the outburst. I expected to see this during the trip. I really did. What struck me was that I had not expected to see this stuff until later on after the excitement and newness wore off. It was a bad sign. Bad enough that my instinct warned me not to break up Vince’s routine by visiting my brother’s house in the high desert for a couple of days. Needless to say, I was apologetic and remorseful. But my brother’s no dope. He knows that this trip is mostly for the benefit of my parents and graciously accepted my decline with the understanding and dignity that I have come to admire in him. As usual, he is all that is best in men.

The last hurdle for the night was getting the kids to bed. I gave them both a bath and some milk and put them to bed in my parent’s old bedroom. They were both ready to pass out, but Amy let loose with a litany of curses, cries and screams that curdled her grandparents’ blood and nearly worried me to death about Vince’s comfort. Then after five minutes, she crashed into a deep slumber. KO, just like that.

Now I’m writing this….waiting for the midnight hour to take Squirt to the bathroom so he won’t wet the bed. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be able to secure some internet access to post this message. But if not, I’ll hang on to this journal on a word file and just post it when I get back. Here’s to hoping.

Good night, Los Angeles.

Miss you, Lisa.

Gearing up for L.A.

Well...I'm packing my stuff for our trip to Los Angeles, my awesome home town. Sadly, I'm a little nervous about what I'll see when I get there.

If you've been keeping up with my updates (you dutiful readers, you), you'd know that my siblings have been dropping rather fearful hints about the health of my Dad.

I'm hoping that much of their foreboding has been due to lost context on my part or theatrics on theirs. But my "Spidey Sense" is saying otherwise.

Needless to say, I'm not expecting a palliative and bedridden couple on the edge of transcendence. They would've never agreed to let us visit if that was the case. But I am worried that I'll find an old bickering pair of gaffers who'll try to leverage our company against each other. Yeah, they've been married that long.

Is this a problem? Nah. I'd like to think that I wouldn't let junk like that bother me. Still, it's a little tough to see these two cardinal figures of my life slowing down. I mean, my Mom's always been able to care for us and give counsel; even after surviving cancer. And my Dad? Well, my old man has done his best to stay busy in the wake of a forced retirement. I think they're both worried about stagnating.

It's not all that bad. My parents are finding their own ways to cope with getting old.
My Ma continues to feed her wanderlust by traveling and visiting her relatives whenever her schedule allows. I think she'd go nuts if she couldn't travel.

As for my Dad, he's undergone an academic renaissance that pushes him to read every book he can get his hands on. I think it enriches him.

Heck, I can't wait to show both of them the Internet.

Anyhow, the wilas and I are on our way to smoggy LA. I'll be sure to make some posts from there to report on how the trip's going. If not on my blog, I'll be sure to drop a note or three on Twitter. My updates post automatically on the upper left hand corner of my blog. It's under the title "Twitterin' Tom." (Provided I can get a reliable connection from somewhere. Hopefully, my folks have a neighbor with an unsecure wireless modem! >:)

OK, here we go!




Wait. What about Lisa?

She'll be alone here in SLC for the next week.
While I'm certain she'll miss us, I bet she'll be catching up on some desperately needed rest and relaxation. Play some video games, Baby. You've earned it!

Graduation Visits!

While I was waxing poetic (or pathetic, depending on your taste), I forgot to mention that my entire family sans my Dad and Sister came to UT to watch the grad ceremonies and celebrate with me!

Check out the pics on Flickr! (I'll keep updating the album as new images are sent to me.)

It was a great time. And best of all, my kids got to bond with their cousins and relearn all those feelings that make a big family such a joy.

Above all, I was so Uncle-proud of my nieces and nephew.
They have all grown into these wonderful and independent young adults who are making the most of their lives and pursuing the passions that make them happy.

Can anyone ask for more than that? I hope my brother and sister take the time to pat themselves on the back. That's some awesome parenting.

As for my parents, it grieves me to hear that they're slowing down in their old age.
Yet my Mom is so fierce in her lust for life that she refuses to be tied down to her home. I hope she continues to travel wherever she pleases for as long as she pleases. It's good for her soul.

As for my old man, I'm getting the feeling that I should get my kids over to LA to see him ASAP.
A lot of this is due to the signals and messages I'm receiving from my siblings.
Things like:
"Dad's getting old, Thomas."
or
"You should try to get the kids over here to see him."
or the worst one...
"Dad's sick, Thomas. He's very sick."

Shit. I've got to get to LA quick, fast and in a hurry and bring my family along with me.
It scares me to say it, but I fear Thanatos may be casting his eyes westward.

I pray to God that I'm wrong.

A Grad's Remorse...

Well, it's done.

Last Friday, I graduated from the U of U with two Bachelors of Science degrees in Geography and Political Science with a minor in Classical Civilization.

Five years of my life was spent attaining this goal.

Strangely, now that the undergrad trail is over, I find myself in a sort of introspective Limbo. (The place, not the dance. ;-)
On one hand, I am very proud of my accomplishments in academia and the honors I've accrued from them.

And yet, I hear that little voice in the back of my head asking what it is that I've really done with my life.
I mean, I don't own a house.
My car's a borderline piece of s#!t.
I can barely put food on the table for the family.
I'm up to my nose in debt. (Again)

Of all the great proletarian benchmarks of the American Dream, the only real one I have is my family. (And thank God for them.)
On top of that, I look down the road at the end-goal of this whole educational gambit (a PhD) and it sinks in that I've got miles and miles to go before I sleep.

Five years later and all I've done is knock a chip out of the block of granite that will one day be my life's work. Ugh.

Well, it ain't all "Doom and Gloom."

Now that grad school's on the horizon, I feel the current of my scholarly work narrowing down from the wide and lazy river that was undergraduate study into a fast, turbulent stream of focused thoughts and work where a student must keep ahead in his scholarship or drown in the rapids of failure. (Hey, that's pretty poetic. Who'd have thought worrying would make me such a colorful writer?)

But to tell you the truth, I'm excited about Grad School. I'm eager to get my research rolling and I'm eager to learn more about GIS, statistics and geospatial analysis. It's pretty exciting stuff! I also can't wait to be a TA and actually be part of the team instead of just another undergrad.

I just hope that I don't blow it.
It's a simple enough statement. Yet it encompasses all the fear, anxiety and trepidation I feel when I think about entering graduate study. I mean, I don't know that first damned thing about being a grad student. I haven't the foggiest idea about how much work is involved or how much reading is required. Heck, I don't even know how long my thesis is supposed to be.

But you know what I can do?
I can follow instructions.
I can learn how to do things properly.
I can think on my feet.
And I can use my head.

It's not the greatest skill set, but these beauties have gotten me through all of life's challenges so far. Now I've just got to keep 'em sharp so they can get me through the next few years.

Know what? I'll worry about the PhD later. I've got plenty of stuff on my plate right now.

Thanks to everyone who has supported me over the past five years.
Your help has meant the world to me and I won't let you down.

The siege is over.
Troy has burned.
Now it's time to set sail for Ithaca...

Ten Years Later....

It's been ten years since Lisa and I got married. Ten years since we shuddered in fear at the thought of bringing a little boy into this world. Ten years since we took those first few brave steps, side-by-side, into a world of worries & reliefs, failures & triumphs.

TEN DAMN YEARS.

And since that fateful day on 4-28-1999 in Raleigh NC, my life has been a constant game of catch-up, frustration, worry and ordeal. Every week brings a new challenge to our lives. Bills to pay. Papers to write. Exams to take. Amy always needs a nap and Vince is always one step behind. One great big game of catch-up.

And through it all, there's always been Lisa.
In this experiment that is our marriage, Lis' and I have ran the gambit of emotions.
We've loved, we've laughed, we've cried and we've fought....a lot.

I suppose it's nothing any other couple doesn't go through.
Sometimes problems will pop up and we'll form up like Voltron to knock 'em out.
And sometimes both of us will smell Amy's dirty diaper and we'll stare each other down like the O.K. Corral.

Our relationship is a constant negotiation; a constant play of give and take.

But you know what?
I think that's how great relationships should be.
Life is always a chain of problems broken up by fleeting moments of joy and bliss.
There is no comfortable plateau and great couples are always mediating, negotiating and most importantly, communicating.

To get a lot, you've got to give a lot. That's the only way.

The great part is, eventually life's obstacles and the encompassing negotiations and compromises become an old comfortable routine. That's when you know that you've made it.

Readers, I've been damn frustrated with Lisa plenty of times.
But in retrospect, I'd be miserable and lonely without her. I'd miss her laughter, her cuddling, her beautiful blue eyes. But most of all, I'd miss her wisdom.

It is because of Lisa that I went to college. Now I'm lined up to receive an advanced degree.
It is because of Lisa that we moved to Utah. Now my son's development has improved exponentially.
It is because of Lisa that we had Amelia. Now my life is richer than it ever was before.
It is because of Lisa that we're a stronger family.

That's why we've made it for ten years.
That, and the fact that Lisa is still willing to play make-believe with me.

To my darling wife, you are and always will be my Muse.

Happy 10th Anniversary, baby!

Take that, Spammers!

I've had some problems with comment spammers junking up my beautiful blog.

Normally, these guys aren't too big of a problem.

But lately, ST's been bombarded by unidentifiable knuckleheads botting vague posts about my entries just before offering me a "miraculous way" to pay off my debt, regrow my hair, vacation in Cancun, make my wiener bigger or whatever.

Anyhow, this junk's gone on long enough and I'm not gonna take it anymore.

As of today, people leaving comments will have to key in a randomly generated word to verify that they're a real person at a real keyboard and not some random BS spam code floating about on the Aether.

I hope this won't discourage comments because I love to read 'em and reply to them.
Honestly.

And for you spammers that insist on actually typing out how you can help my dingle dangle deeper, well I promise to read your comment and laugh at your efforts before deleting your junk.

Hey. It's the least I can do.

Start your engines!

Every now and then, our family allows itself the occasional "calculated extravagance" to help enjoy life's long journey.

For 2009, we busted open our penny jars and got ourselves a Nintendo Wii. It's great fun. No regrets.

Anyhow, one of the games we acquired (at my insistence) was Mario Kart. As an original Nintendo junkie, I had played this game all through the years since its inception with the Super NES. And in every incarnation, this game has always hit it out of the park. Yeah, it's that damn good.

But I digress. I had originally bought this game to play by myself and hopefully hook Lisa in the process. However, I had no idea how addicted my Muse would get when the bug finally bit. As it turns out, Lisa's got very little to do at home once Vince is at school and her lofty list of chores are done. So when these precious periods of free time pop up, Lis fires up the Wii and tears around the many racetracks of Marioworld making her mark on the kart racing scene.

(Woah, there. Before you concerned moms start crying in anguish about Amy's neglect, let me just say that baby-girl love's to watch Mommy race. She can't get enough of it. It's an activity they enjoy doing together as she'll sit on her lap and cheer the whole time. So cut my Mrs some slack, check?)

So now it has come to my attention that our sleepy little quasi-family housing area is holding a Mario Kart tournament with prizes for the best drivers. Naturally, I want Lis to test her skills against all the single student wannabe "Tony Stewarts" to hopefully crack 'em in half and score herself some keen prizes! It'd be a great ego boost for her, I'm sure!

Now comes the tricky part of convincing her to compete....

I can't have anything nice. :-(

It's a sad, sad time.
The mug you see on the left was a keepsake of the time Lisa and I went to the Sterling Renaissance Festival in upstate New York.

The year was 1997. A newly acquainted Lisa and I traveled to her old stomping grounds of Ithaca, NY to partake of the beauty of Lake Cayuga and the Finger Lakes region.

It was a giddy and carefree time. Lis and I had been dating for a couple of months, I had just been hired with the fire dept and neither of us knew anything about children, debt or autism.

Once there, Lis convinced me to shuck my machismo and rent a ren costume along with her. It was a little awkward at first, but by the end of the day I had been swept up in the spirit of faire; I was singing old sea shanties and parlaying with the locals in the Queen's English. (Something tells me the four hard ciders and two shots of mead had something to do with it, too.)

Lis and I gelled like never before. By the day's end, I knew that this was the eccentric little dreamer that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. As we walked towards the exit, I had the sudden impulse purchase a momento to help me remember one of the greatest days of my existence. The cup in the image above was that momento.

Sadly, Old Cuppy met its match while being chilled in a freezer.
(Yes, yes. NOW I know it was a big mistake. Gimme a break. I'm not a ceramics guy.)

But when I expressed my forlorn lament to my Mrs, she took the whole thing in stride.
For her, the most important keepsakes were the memories we made that day and all the other days we went to faire after that. (8 different faires, over two dozen visits.)

As usual, I felt better after talking to her. She's pretty smart about this kind of stuff.

Still, I am a little bummed about Cuppy's demise.
HA! I know what to do!
I'll just glue it back together and use it for a pencil/pen jar at my TA desk next semester.

Hoo-ha! Everything old is new again!
(Until it breaks.) ^_^;;;

.

Some Videos of the Kids...

Flickr won't let me upload more than 2 videos per month. (Grumble, grumble.)

In that case, I'll just upload the vids on Blogger and link Flickr for the pics.

Ta-da!

And then there was one...(Grad School Update)

ALEA IACTA EST.

I've accepted a graduate position with the University of Utah's Geography Department as a Masters Student.

Why? The answer is pretty simple.

Here are the results for all the grad apps I sent out:

Princeton: Gave me the "nah."

UNC: Also gave me the "nah."

Texas A&M: Has placed me on a wait-list. (No $)

Geogretown: Accepted me, but did not offer any $. Not one single dime. :-(

Utah Poli-Sci: (My home department) Accepted, but without financial aid. C'mon guys. :-(

Utah Geography: Accepted...with a tuition waiver...and a TA job...and a $5500 scholarship to boot. (That they recommended me for! Is that love or what?)

It's easy to say that I sided with the money.
But the fact is, the vibe that I get from the staff and faculty in that department is one of faith, belonging and encouragement. From the Admin Staff all the way to the Department Head, there is one message that resonates throughout the office:

"Tom, we want you to stay."

I didn't choose Geography at first, but it looks like Geography chose me.

Somewhere, Paul Torrens is laughing.

.

New place for pics...

Howdy Readers!

I got a little tired of Blogger's maple-syrup speed image uploading.

To remedy this, I've set up a Flickr account for all my family pictures!

Check it out and enjoy the memories!!!

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/simplythomasblog/)


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HO-LEE CRAP!!!! (Grad School Update)

March 20, 2009

Dear Mr. Zumbado:

I hope this message finds you well.

The Admissions Committee for the Security Studies Program (SSP) has completed its review of your application. The committee has recommended your admission to the Dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences. You will soon receive a letter pending a final review of general admissions requirements. This is a routine step preceding full or conditional admission to the SSP.

Decisions on SSP merit-based aid will be communicated in the next two weeks. In the meantime, information on student loans, grants, and other Georgetown funding opportunities is available from the Office of Student Financial Services:

http://finaid.georgetown.edu/grmenu.htm

The SSP website is also an excellent tool for more information on our events, faculty, students, and careers. The site is located here:

http://ssp.georgetown.edu/

Finally, I would like to invite you to attend the SSP’s Visiting Day on Wednesday, April 8, 2009, from 12 noon to 4 p.m. You will have the opportunity to learn more about the program by meeting faculty and students, taking a campus tour, and attending an SSP class. Additional information will be emailed as the event approaches.

While I cannot offer my congratulations until Dean Barbari formally approves your admission, I am pleased you are considering the SSP for your graduate degree. The SSP is a dynamic and exciting environment for students from a variety of academic and professional backgrounds. I look forward to welcoming you to this exceptional community in the fall.

Best regards.

Daniel L. Byman

Director, Security Studies Program

Director, Center for Peace and Security Studies

Good Ol' Utah...(Grad School Update)

You know, there is something to be said about being loyal to your students.

Man, I love the U.

March 4, 2007

Thomas C. Zumbado
Salt Lake City, UT 84112

Dear Thomas:

The faculty of the Department of Geography is pleased to recommend your admission to the Graduate School as a student in our Master’s program commencing fall semester 2009. The Graduate School will review our recommendation and inform you of the final decision. You should receive this information shortly.

We are unable to make an offer of financial aid at this time. However, the graduate committee has named you as an alternate for financial aid. We will notify you if aid becomes available.

Please keep in mind that all graduate students should have acceptable courses or proficiencies in Geographical Analysis (GEOG 3020), Principles of Cartography (GEOG 3040) and basic introductory-level calculus. It is in your best interest to either take these courses before you arrive or study the appropriate material on your own. Completing our undergraduate courses to acquire these proficiencies is optional and do not count toward graduate credit. If you are planning on taking the GIS series of courses you must have an acceptable course or proficiency in Principles of GIS (GEOG 3140).

Please notify me in writing by mail or fax by April 15, 2009, if you intend to accept or reject our offer of admission. If you do accept, you will receive additional information on the program and registration for fall semester.

We hope that you will find your academic experience next year a rewarding one. Please let us know if we can assist you in any way.

Sincerely,

Thomas M. Kontuly

Director of Graduate Studies

OK, so no funding for now.
But at least I've got a safety net set up in case none of my other prospects pan out.
Thanks to all the faculty and friends who believe in me.
It merits being said again.
Man, I love the U.

Grad School Update...

...Just not the one I wanted. :-(

February 20, 2009

Mr. Thomas Zumbado

Salt Lake City, UT 84112

Dear Mr. Zumbado:

Thank you for applying to our Graduate School for the 2009-2010 academic year. While I assure you that the materials you submitted were carefully reviewed by the faculty in the Department of Politics and by the Graduate School, I regret to inform you that the department did not recommend your admission for the coming year.

The number of places available at Princeton for entering graduate students is extremely limited and we cannot offer admission to all who are well-qualified. Indeed, many departments consistently have applicants who would be admitted without hesitation if the resources were available. Our decisions take into account not only the applicants’ merits, but also the suitability of the department’s programs to the candidates’ expressed interests. Our goal is to achieve a sound match between the strengths of our programs and the interests of the relatively small number of outstanding students that can be accommodated.

We chose to advise you of our decision via email on the assumption that a timely response would outweigh the informality of this means of communication. I would be happy to provide a formal letter upon request.

I wish you success in your plans for graduate study and thank you for considering Princeton University.

Sincerely,

William B. Russel

Dean of the Graduate School