History is Written by the Victors

Once my friend moved away, the rest of the school year developed into a pretty consistent pattern.  During recess and other free times, I would usually get involved in violent physical altercations.  As the smallest guy in the class, I never had the advantage, regardless of being outnumbered.  The end result was that people would get hurt, usually nothing serious, just scrapes and bruises, but enough to get into trouble.  Since by that point, no amount of physical pain was going to make me cry, (or give up) the situation usually ended when someone else got hurt.  That whole not crying thing means that you never let anyone get the best of you, but there are some downsides.  You end up enduring more pain than you otherwise would have, and you are usually held responsible for the outcome, regardless of who initiated the conflict.

Since they were crying and I wasn't, for some reason the blame for the incident was nearly always placed on my shoulders.  This is completely illogical, but happens all the time in many other contexts.  The idea that "history is written by the victors" doesn't seem to be true in liberal societies.  Instead the blame for the conflict is placed on the survivors, regardless of who started it.  And once I got punished at school, I would get in trouble for the same incident when I got home, and then a similar situation would frequently develop with my younger brother.

Now I am not going to claim that I was always a completely innocent victim, especially once the pattern had developed, and habits had formed, but I absorbed far more than my share of the punishment for those situations.  I didn’t have the greatest social skills, and probably developed negative ways of getting attention, but I can’t recall a single instance where I initiated a violent response to a situation.  The same pattern played out at home with my brother, probably even to a more extreme degree.  My Mom’s perspective was that any of my brother’s negative behavior must have been learned from me.  The logical response of asking where I must have learned it from, never won me any points.

The good news is that my parents did eventually realize what was happening, and we switched schools after fourth grade.  That came about because my Dad worked nearby, so he volunteered for "yard-duty" to help supervise recess after lunch.  He was able to observe what was going on, and realized that I wasn't lying when I claimed that "I was just minding my own business when so-and-so came and ...”  That was just the way things worked there.

Going into fifth grade at a new school brought all sorts of interesting changes to my life.  I would consider that transition to be the biggest turning point in my entire life.  It took a while for some of the deeper seated issues to get resolved, but it at least put things on the right track.

Something to Cry About

Things didn't get any better over the next couple of years at school.  Even after my favorite troublemaker got kicked out of the school, things were still rough, now that certain patterns had been established.  I continued to do well academically but decline socially.  Recess times had basically devolved into a routine of going outside, picking teams, and then fighting.  I guess the supervision just figured "boys will be boys."  Being small for my age, I probably appeared to be an easy target, and probably absorbed more than my fair share of abuse.

In fourth grade, I managed to become close friends with one particular individual.  I have no recollection how that happened, since we had both been in class together for years and rarely talked.  It likely started because we were the two smallest kids in the class, and got picked on the most.  Having a common adversity builds strong relationships; I have definitely seen that happen at camp.  That relationship must have developed very quickly, which is uncharacteristic for me, but I remember becoming quite close, definitely by November that year.  And then at Thanksgiving break, his family moved to Southern California.

That was a multi-dimensional problem, in that not only was my closest friend leaving, but really my only friend.  And I would become the only one that the rest of the guys in the class routinely singled out.  The Wednesday before Thanksgiving was his last day at school, and we got out at noon for the holiday weekend.  I remember crying about it for hours in the after school day-care, until I was picked up around four that evening.  That was in November of 1993, and I have never "really" cried again since then.

I used to consciously suppress the urge to cry, which served me well for the rest of that year, alone at school.  But over the years that builds up wall that are hard to topple, from either side.  I have thought a lot about that fact, especially in light of events over the last few months.  In C.S. Lewis's "The Last Battle" there is a line: "I have seen my mother's death...It were no virtue, but great discourtesy, if we did not mourn."  Can one mourn without crying?

And Then Came School-Time to Socialize

The next major step in life was school, starting with Kindergarten.  This was quite a transition, but with a class of about 15 people, it wasn't too bad.  There were four kids in my class whose families all carpooled with us.  We frequently ended up at each other's houses after school, and therefore were friends at school as well.  There were two guys and two girls, and back then I didn't make much distinction between the genders.

The progression from there to first grade was fairly smooth, I even got to keep the same teacher, so most of those memories blend together a bit, but we got desks by then.  I was probably a reasonably normal kid at that point, both socially and academically.

Things definitely went down hill at school after that.  My second grade teacher was an elderly nun, who may not have been cut out to be dealing with kids anymore.  I got A’s in all my academic subjects and C’s in both effort and conduct.  Looking back, that should have been an indication to my parents of a problem with the school, if I can still get A’s with a lack of effort.

The biggest problem was that one of the primary troublemakers in the class really had it in for me, and found various ways to get me into trouble.  Once I had a reputation for getting into trouble, and suffering the consequences, I started actually earning it.  Hence the C’s in conduct.  It’s a classic example of people acting in ways to meet the expectations placed on them.

On top of that, the only other guy in our carpool switched schools that year, leaving just me and the two girls.  While there is nothing inherently wrong with that, my teacher noticed that I was closer friends with them than the guys in my class.  She recommended that my parents isolate me from girls so that I would get better at socializing with guys.

It would appear that they did a pretty good job between then and when I graduated from high school.  I was not aware of what they were doing, but I do remember suddenly not being friends with the girls from my carpool, and not knowing why.  It wasn't until college that I was able to resume having relaxed social interactions with females.  I am now proud to have a number of significant friendships with females, but that is the result of years of deliberate effort to reverse most of the effects of that “socialization” process.

Where I am Coming From

If I am going to tell the story of where I am coming from, I guess it makes sense to start from the beginning.  My earliest memories are from around age two, and all relatively vague.  I lived in a townhouse with my parents until I was two and a half, and I remember that location, as well as the neighbors, and that the girl across the street was my age.  I had a series of different people who used to take care of me at home, while my parents were working.  And Taco Bell was the only fast food restaurant that we were allowed to go to, on the rare occasion.

Both sets of my grandparents lived about two hours away, in the Bay Area and the Central Valley, and their houses were my favorite places on earth to visit.  That happened fairly frequently, when my parents were traveling, or wanted a weekend off.  My uncles were usually around, and I did all sorts of things with them, from ride go-carts and motorcycles, to play chess in the evenings.  We took a trip to Pennsylvania to visit my extended family when I was two, which I have faint recollections of.  The big changes that took place in that period that affected the rest of my life: were moving to a house outside of town, and my brother joining the family when I was three and a half.  At that point my mom reduced her work schedule to part time for the rest of her career at the high school.

I have no real recollections of my brother and I ever really getting along.  I usually acted older than I was, while he usually acted younger, which increased the gap.  I had grown up without him for long enough that I was perfectly capable of entertaining myself all alone, while even today he appears unable to do that.  But he was always big for his age, and I was not, so while he was never taller than me until college, we were similar in height much of the time.  And he probably usually out-weighed me, but I didn't let that deter me from being in charge.

My Dad still lives in that house we moved to, and it was the primary environment that I grew up in.  Much of my summers were spend watering the extensive gardens, or removing fallen fruit from the orchard.  Pruned branches provided source material for forts, swords, guns, or anything else we could think of.  A steep driveway with a tight turn at the bottom led to all sorts of creative ways to get injured.  The most unique feature is probably the large finished shed in the back, which contained our extensive collection of Legos.

Legos were my favorite things to play with growing up.  I remember getting my first set when I was about three, and my first castle set from my grandmother at age four, and a pirate ship from her when I was five.  By the time I was six, I had sets with gears and motors, and was building all sorts of things.  Our collection continued to expand, usually courtesy of my grandmother, and provided source material for many school assignments, science projects, and other endeavors.  Even in college I used them for making videos.  And someday my kids will play with them as well.

A Shift Toward Stories While I am Traveling

I will be away from home for the next couple of months, so in order to be able to continue posting on here regularly, I am intending to focus on stories since they require less time to compose.  And I will be doing less heavy reading, which usually provides much of the source for the ideas I discuss on here.  I am planning to pause my exhaustive reading of the ESV Study Bible while I am traveling, and read The Message version of the New Testament while I am on the road for the same reason.  I am trying to continue reading and writing with the same level of regularly, just a reduced level of depth.

Stories are one aspect of what I was trying to accomplish via this site, which I haven't really focused on as much as I originally intended.  I want to tell stories that about things I have experienced that have gotten me to where I am today.  That should provide my readers with greater context for the more theoretical and academic topics that I explore.

I would like to try to post things in chronological order as much as possible, but that won't be a hard rule.  I am sure that dwelling on certain stories will invariably remind me of other previous events that I had forgotten to include up to that point.  So it will probably jump around a bit, but the general progression should be there.  And I am aiming for the same level of frequency, but no guarantees.  It is going to be a pretty busy trip, not that the last one wasn't.

What Does it Mean to be Independent or Free?

I don't like having to rely on other people for anything.  Nor do I like anyone else having any significant level of control over me.  This seems to permeate every aspect of my life.  I am an independent contractor at work, who sets his own schedule, and is accorded a great deal of flexibility.  I am a volunteer at the camps I work at, allowing me the option of foregoing any individual responsibility, if I so desire.  I spend much less than I make, allowing me to invest in my freedom in the future, in a variety of ways.

While I rarely actually take advantage of that level of freedom and independence, I greatly value knowing that I have the option available, if I need it.  As with anything in life, the more I utilize that option in the present, the less freedom I will have to do so in the future.  Similar to the idea that money you spend today, will not be available to spend tomorrow.  That doesn't mean you shouldn't spend it, just that you should carefully evaluate the value of doing so.  Having a lot of money that you never spend is not much different than not having it at all.  Similarly, having a great deal of freedom, and never exercising it is a waste, and God calls us to be wise stewards of everything he has blessed us with.

Everything that we have, and everything that we want, has the potential to limit us.  Things that we want are more obvious, in that they affect our motivations and desires.  Things that we already have can limit us as well, if we are afraid of losing them.  In both scenarios, the potential limitations arise from a lack of trust in God, and his provision for us.

So how does this desire for independence affect my relationship with God?  Do I know how to rely on God?  While I am conscious of the fact that I usually have an initial impulse to try to take care of things on my own, God has seen fit to provide me with a variety of challenges that I clearly can't overcome alone.  God didn't intend for man to be alone, and I am only beginning to understand that concept.  He has been showing me that recently through the assistance of other people around me.

I am still a bit uncomfortable with the idea of being dependent on those around me, since they have the potential to fail me, and probably will at some point.  But that is a risk that has to be taken in order to enjoy the benefits that others can bring to our lives.  I have definitely experienced the support of people "being there for me" over the last few weeks, but also the pain felt when they are not.  I still struggle in my heart with the balance of determining whether or not it is all worth it from an emotional perspective, but I know it is the right thing to do.  It is really hard for me to trust other people enough to rely on them, but being independent of them means going it alone.

I do find it ironic that with all this freedom, the primary thing that I actually do desire, is to raise a family.  With a wife and kids, I will have to give up much of that freedom and independence.  Part of me is afraid that I will have difficulty doing that up when the time comes.  But another part of me hopes that my current freedom allows me to better prepare for that future, and that independence from certain "normal" outside responsibilities will free me up to do a better job in that role when the time comes.  As is always the case, we are free to give up our independence if the situation calls for it.

The Value of Seeing Things Clearly - Seeing the Value of Things Clearly

I gave something away recently, and the recipient’s reaction was very different than I expected.  I am a very practical person, so I like to see resources be utilized.  I am very conscious of needs that I see, and finding creative ways to meet them.  I have recently come into possession of a lot of items I don't really have much use for, and have been trying to find ways to connect them with people who need them.  A variety of them have no obvious immediate practical use, and I will compare the items in question to appliances that have had their power cords cut off.  My initial reaction was to assume they needed to be donated somewhere or trashed, even though they had previous been valuable.

But it eventually occurred to me that if I replaced the “power cords,” they could potentially be useful to someone who actually needs something like that.  But it isn't worth the time and expense of repairing them unless someone actually wants to use them.  I realized that someone I know has needed one of these things for a long time, and I had even offered to buy one for them in the past, but it had never happened.  So my practical side led me to make the offer, even though the item in question was fairly old and used.  If they were interested in using it, I intended to replace the power cord for them, so that it would actually be fully functional again.

Instead, the person I offered it to was more interested in the aesthetic and sentimental value of the object in question, and had no real interest in actually making it functional, even though it is something they actually needed.  My initial reaction was, “whatever makes you happy.”  A bit later, the practical side of me was confident that I should make sure to fix it anyway, since it was "needed," regardless of what they wanted.  But I realized that what had happened was that my gift had been stripped of all practical use, which bothered me.  But that the recipient still valued it, just for other reasons, so I should too.  This helped me recognize the other aspects of the value in what I had given away, which had been less immediately apparent to me.  I almost value it more, now that I have seen all practical value stripped away, than I did when I saw it as a solution to an existing problem.  But I still intend to find a solution to that problem, even if by totally different means, because that's just who I am.