Happy Birthday, Treaker!

Did you know that you're the only kid in our family who actually invented his own nickname (and a reciprocal nickname, at that!)?  It seems to me that this says something about you... With your brother and sister, it was just random, silly trial-and-error:  "Can I call you Floogy Scrooter?" or "Can I call you the Mishawaka Matador?"  And only after several silly attempts over the course of several years -- only after so many suggestions had been denied without any alternatives offered -- were we able to settle on Charlie Bogantz and My Little Chippy Chuppy.  But with you, Cor, it was so different!  You were still just learning to talk when I asked if I could call you some totally nonsensical name, and you immediately said no.  But when I asked my standard follow-up question -- "Well, what should I call you, then?" -- you didn't just shrug it off or state your birth-certificate name.  Instead, you confidently replied, "Treaker."  And when I went into your room to wake you up the following morning, you greeted me from your crib by saying, "Hello, Treaker!"  And in that moment, I knew that we had discovered the perfect nickname for you, and indeed for each other.

So at any rate, from one Treaker to the other, I wish you a very Happy Birthday!

You've really come into your own, over the course of the last year -- your third year of life.  It's not just dictating your own terms for nicknames, either.  In all different kinds of ways, you've learned to assert yourself as the wonderful person you are.  I can imagine that it's something of a survival skill for a third-born kid like you.  You tend to push back, when you get jostled around.  You tend to yell out-loud, when someone tries to pull something over on you.  And you tend to hold your opinions, even in the face of the most persuasive arguments.  You're your own person.  You're not just a little kid.  You're not just "Elliot's brother" or "Olivia's brother."  You're not just some little blond kid in the crowd.  You're Cor William Asp, and you stand on your own two feet.  You're strong and tough, even though you're still small in stature.  And I respect that about you.  I appreciate that about you.

But I will say that you need to be careful with such strength, Cor.  Use it wisely!  As time goes on, you'll see that you can use such strength and toughness to push others away and distance yourself, or to throw yourself headlong into the thick of things -- to become an embracer and wrestler and protector of others.  You can use it for your own glory or for the glory of God.  You can use it for folly or for wisdom.  Your mother and I are doing our best to teach you the ways of wisdom, so please listen well!  Like wise King Solomon instructed his little boy:  "Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you" (Proverbs 2:11)... "Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil" (Proverbs 3:7)... "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight" (Proverbs 3:5-6).  I know that I'm slipping into preacher-mode here, a little bit, but I'm just saying:  I recognize great power in you, Cor -- even at the tender age of three -- but I also recognize a great need for guidance in the application of such power.  I've been reading and meditating on the Proverbs a lot this year, usually just before that beautiful moment (one of my favorite moments of the day!) when I come into your room to wake you up in the morning; and it's occurred to me on multiple occasions that the Proverbs have a lot to offer you, Cor, as you grow older and stronger.  I pray that, in time, you will adapt the wisdom of the Proverbs as your own -- adding your strength to it and channeling it well.

But enough of this seriousness!  This is your birthday, and a time for celebration!  We need to play some Michael Jackson songs -- maybe "Beat It" or "The Way You Make Me Feel" -- and let you show us how to feel the music and enjoy the moment.  You're a fun kid, Cor.  Wherever you go, there seems to be laughter and music and dancing.  You bring such passion and conviction to your music -- whether it's on the computer, playing your guitar on the brown chair, or belting out the theme to the Muppet Show from your crib after you've been put in bed for the night.  Your joy gives us joy, and I'm glad to say that there seems to be a lot of that to go around these days.

I love you, Cor!  I love you more than words could ever say.  I'm proud to have you as my boy -- and it's abundantly clear that Olivia, Elliot, and Mommy feel the same way.  Thank you for being my Treaker-Boy.  I hope you know that I am and will forever be...

Lovingly,

Your Treaker-Daddy

The summer is officially over.  Elliot and Olivia went back to school today.  Buckets and buckets of rain soaked us on the way from home, but we made it.

Cor doesn't actually start pre-school until next month (which, I'm sure, will warrant its own post), but he wanted to put on a backpack and join in the photographic fun.

Olivia is now in Group 3 (1st grade), and Elliot is in Group 5 (3rd grade).  It's absolute lunacy to see how quickly time flies.

I heard the news about LeBron James (star of the Cleveland Cavaliers basketball team) signing with the Miami Heat on the morning of our family's departure for Ohio, six weeks ago.  Because I didn't want to make the travel preparations any more stressful than they already were, I didn't break the news to my son (a huge Cavs fan and LeBron James fan) until we were about half-way over the Atlantic.  But I knew that I had to let him know -- because it was definitely going to be a topic of conversation when we landed in Ohio.

Elliot and I, like a lot of people from Ohio, were disappointed by LeBron James' decision to leave his home state and pursue glory, glamor, and success in Miami -- down south, on the Coast (common destinations for the oft-lamented Midwestern talent drain).  But as I've processed his decision further, I have to admit that it makes a lot of sense -- and I think that it actually reveals a lot about the evolution of cultural and generational values.  And I, for one, don't mean that this shift in values is necessarily a bad thing.  It's just interesting to note.

A lot of people have given LeBron James a lot of crap over the last month and a half.  They say he's a sell-out, that he's self-centered and childish and unfaithful.  The previous generation's great basketball players -- guys like Michael Jordan, Magic Johson, and Charles Barkley -- have publically and universally denounced the move, which coincided with Miami re-signing its biggest star, Dwyane Wade and also winning Chris Bosh, another highly-regarded talent in this summer's free agent signings.  They say that a phenomenon such as Miami's new "Big Three" would never have happened in their days because they were too competitive, too intent on beating each other rather than teaming up to run laps around the competition.  The previous generation's superstars complain that LeBron's legacy will be tainted by his lack of competitive individualism -- that he'll never be as great as they were in their day, because he didn't "go it alone" against the top talent of his generation.

But I really have to wonder if this criticism is just generational ignorance and arrogance.  To me, LeBron James' move to Miami is very much in line with the cultural values of today's twenty-somethings:  less individualistic, less cut-throat competitive, more global, more synergistic.

LeBron James has his own set of values that aren't so hung-up on individual "greatness."  I'm guessing that he's not so concerned with having great enemies (as if this somehow made him a bigger man) -- as much as he's concerned with having great friends.  He seems to hope for ongoing support from his Ohio friends and family, even as he transitions to Miami for the next few years.  And with transportation and telecommunication as efficient and effortless as it is today, ties to "home" are defined in much different ways than ever before; he can still be every bit as much of an Ohioan as he's always been -- it's just that he doesn't always have to be in Ohio to do it.  I'm sure that the championships are still important to LeBron James -- but he wants to have someone with whom he can share that glory.  The teammates are not something to detract from himself, from his spotlight, but rather something to make the experience all the more sweet.  Like a lot of young people today, it seems to me that he cares about where he's going only secondarily, after he's figured out who he's going with.

Maybe this is total psycho-babble.  I don't really know.  A lot of my speculation comes from the news stories reporting that James, Wade, and Bosh have all been close friends since their time playing together on the USA basketball team during the 2008 Olympics.  But again, I can't really claim to have any particular insight into LeBron James' way of thinking.  Yet the more I process his recent career decision, the more I can see my own values at play.  After being away from Ohio for a number of years, myself -- I've had to come to terms with the fact that I can be both an Amsterdammer and an Ohioan.  It doesn't have to be one or the other.  I didn't leave Ohio because I was disloyal or embittered; on the contrary, I love it there!  But I didn't have to keep my feet planted eternally on Ohio soil in order to maintain my cultural identity.  Furthermore, as I think about the future -- I realize that my goals in life are a lot less about what I accomplish than they are about who I get to accomplish them with.  If I were ever to move away from Amsterdam, for instance, I would hope that it wouldn't be for some amazing job opportunity or to live in some amazing city -- but rather that it would be to team up with some amazing people to "make history" together.  In my case, of course, it would probably be to make disciples instead of win NBA championships; but when you really break it down, my values are not so much different from those that LeBron James has exhibited this summer.

As for our personal basketball loyalties, Elliot and I have basically decided that we're going to have to cheer for both the Cleveland Cavaliers and for LeBron James, now that their paths have diverged.  If it comes down to a head-to-head match-up, we'll probably go for the Cavs (we do, after all, have our Ohio identity to maintain!).  But I don't see myself remaining embittered with LeBron James for making the decision he did.  If he ends up winning championships, I say good for him.  We'll still have to wait until next season to see how things really feel, in the midst of the action.  But for now, I'm saying that I can at least see where LeBron James might be coming from...

It's been a busy week -- with Marci's brother's family coming to Ohio for a visit, followed immediately by me taking a trip out to South Dakota -- so blogging has taken a back-seat.  The stories from Richland County are still percolating in my head, and I'm still very hopeful about writing them out in the days to come.  But for now, I've been focusing any blogging energies that remain within me to keep up with my Proverbs 365 project.

Today's entry feels to be particularly timely to me, though, so I thought I'd reference it here.  It's titled P221 - Land Issues, and it explores one of the trickier issues of North American history:  the conflict between the Native American populations and the white settlers who forged their way across the continent over the last 500 years.  The discussion is all based on Proverbs 2:21-22, where it says, "For the upright will live in the land, and the blameless will remain in it; but the wicked will be cut off from the land, and the unfaithful will be torn from it."  As you can see from the illustration on the right, it's a passage that can feel a bit provocative -- particularly when juxtaposed with American history.

And I have to admit:  I'm genuinely confused and conflicted about how American history is supposed to be interpreted -- or, more accurately, how we're supposed to deal with the aftermath of history.  Significant problems remain in the Native American community, which is still fairly prevalent in South Dakota (from which I'm writing this).  The local newspapers from this weekend have carried several stories detailing the complexities of land claims, issues of national sovereignty, and basic problems of poverty and substance abuse among the Native Americans in the area.  In addition to this, I've been reading a biography of Andrew Jackson, the 7th President of the United States of America, who developed something of a reputation for himself as an Indian killer and developed some significant policies during his presidency which led to the issues we are dealing with today.  And even further, Elliot has been reading a book from the library about Tecumseh, a Shawnee chief from the area which is now called Ohio -- which challenges some of the standard ways that American history has been interpreted (particularly regarding who's the "Good Guys" and who's the "Bad Guys")...

Suffice to say, it's an interesting issue to consider, especially in light of Proverbs 2:21-22.  I'd be curious to hear if anyone else out there has any particular thoughts to add to the mix.  So please, take a minute to read P221 - Land Issues, and let me know what you think...

The eastern half of Richland County is full of forests, fields, and folklore.

Shawnee warriors once hunted the area's rich store of deer and fish, but today it's farm country:  corn and soy, red barns and silver silos.  In the easternmost sections of the county, where Richland bleeds into Ashland, Amish and Mennonite families maintain the farming lifestyle of the original white settlers who first pioneered the land, no electricity, no machinery, no frills or foolishness -- traveling by horse-and-buggy, tying their hay up in old-fashioned sheaves, and hanging their laundry out to dry in the wind.  But mostly, today's inhabitants of Richland County are normal folks with televisions, baseball caps, John Deere tractors, basketball hoops, and Ford pick-up trucks.  Generally speaking, the people in the eastern half of Richland County work hard, vote Republican, and love Ohio State football.

Skirted by colorful sprays of wildflowers, purple, orange, and yellow, Ohio State Route 96 weaves its way from Shelby to Ashland, following the contours of the land.  It's a route that demands one's time and attention -- carefully accelerating and braking, following the curves in the road, watching for white-tailed deer, especially at dawn or dusk.  Red-tailed hawks perch on fence posts and telephone poles, watching and waiting to swoop down for a groundhog, rabbit, squirrel, or mouse.  Around this time of the year, the corn is tassling, and the evenings are humid and moist, like a whispered secret.  Late in the day, an amber light slants across the landscape, forming long, cool shadows, with the soy forming soft, verdant beds in the fields, in which the mist nestles down for the night.  As the sun sets and the moon rises, lightning bugs sparkle from the forests.  Crickets sing on the breeze, but otherwise a hush hangs over the land.

And in these moments, the stories return to me.

There are so many stories from this countryside:  legacies, legends, myths, and ghost stories.  Each one seems to be connected to a particular landmark.  There's the Crying Bridge, on Geisinger Road.  And the Olivesburg Fork, close to the spot where State Route 96 and State Route 603 intersect.  There are stories of the Ku Klux Klan and Satanists, convening in the forests and occasionally venturing out to the settlements to wreak their havoc on unsuspecting citizens.  My wife's family -- Richland County residents for seven generations -- has a story about a Moonlight Interrogation.  And almost none of these stories have been written down, as far as I can tell.  After a little bit of research on the internet at at the local library, it seems like very few of these stories exist beyond the aural accounts of Richland County residents -- and the ones that do exist are very condensed, very short, and honestly not recorded the way that I remember hearing them.  So I want take some of these warm summer evenings to see if I can remember some of these stories, draw them out and give them room to breathe, and then set the stories down in written form.  I don't know if I'll be able to get around to all of them, but I'm going to do the best I can do to harvest some of the fruit of this Rich Land of Stories.