One girl showed me THIS this morning, asking if the boy in the red shirt was me as a kid.

And there is indeed a very uncanny resemblance...dance moves and all.

I was watching it in front of the class, and they finally heard my giggle which erupted uncontrollably. In response to my girlish laugh, several of them to said in unison, "Eeeewwwww mister?! What was that?!"

For those of you who haven't heard yet, Erica and I will be spending our summer in Paris. And nothing is getting me more excited about Paris than watching the beautiful videos from Take Away Shows. They hire some indie rock bands to show up in random places and play a couple of songs while recording and video-taping.

Beautiful music in a beautiful setting captured beautifully makes for a pretty beautiful video. So, I highly recommend you spend some time checking them out. If you're not sure where to start, Arcade Fire (the entire band crammed into a freight elevator), The Shins (roaming around Amelie's hometown), The National (sitting around a dining table), and Andrew Bird (on a meandering stroll) are all pretty wonderful. And those are the only ones I've seen so far.

If you thought I could whistle, wait til you hear Andrew Bird.

I'm hoping we'll run into some Take Away performers when we're exploring the streets of Paris.

Jamin, let's quit our jobs and do this full time.

(If the videos aren't working so hot on this site, you can also look for them on YouTube.)

I ate at Panera tonight, alone. I ordered a half sandwich and half salad, but when my pager was buzzed I walked up to a half sandwich and full salad. The manager said, "We didn't have a half, so we're giving you a full. Happy birthday, don't say we never gave you anything." I smiled and said, "I'll take it!"

I decided to attempt to eat outside. It was awfully windy, but I saw two other brave souls out there, and decided if they could do it, so could I. Upon opening the door, a gust blew my receipt up into the air and my small cup of water spilling onto the sidewalk.

I didn't mind. It wasn't easy, and it made me inadvertently eat entirely too quickly, but boy do I love the wind.

I am also in love with the blooming, blossoming trees more than ever this Spring. On my way home I saw some growing just above the peaks of flashy new thoughtlessly mass-produced houses, and even that of all things looked beautiful. It gave me an odd and unexpected sense of hope, but I had to wonder, what happens to all the old houses that, logically assuming, people are abandoning and no one is buying?

I had to agree though, in looking at the blooms, with Franz Wright, with whom I ate dessert, when he shared with me just earlier,

"and by the way thank You for
keeping Your face hidden, I
can hardly bear the beauty of this world."

And in looking at the sky above the flowering trees, I nodded my head when he said,

"This sky like an infinite tenderness, I have caught
glimpses of that, often, so often, and never yet have
I described it, I can't, somehow, I never will."

And if that's not enough raving about springtime, allow me to add that on the way home I said to myself, quite possibly out-loud, something to the effect of, "I never want to go indoors again."

(And yet, here I am, already, typing, indoors.)

(Although, come to think of it, maybe it wasn't just the nice weather causing me to say that. Maybe it was the stacks of dirty dishes and other reminders of responsibility and adulthood.)

In other random thoughts, the girls who live upstairs wear so much perfume or other assorted pampering products that our stairwell smells absolutely wonderful just from them going in and out.

And today, because with the blossoms come bees and with the warm weather comes open windows, there was a bee in the classroom. A boy started freaking out (I love how the tough guys instantly melt into hysterical babies at the sight of the smallest bug), and when his classmates who had yet to see the bee asked him what it was they shouted, "What is it--a cockroach?!?" A telling story, as it is a perfectly logical assumption in our school building. Yes, the building everyone is trying to save from demolition.

And you'll be happy to know that I did not melt into a baby, I calmly and swiftly killed it with a boy's math folder.

I went to work reluctantly this morning, heavy hearted and tired for reasons in addition to just being a Monday.

The morning got off to an encouraging start, though, with a relaxing first period as most of my students were out of the room taking yet another assessment and later with a productive second period prep.

The relaxing first two periods helped, but not entirely.

What helped was listening to Page France during my prep, hearing songs about the comfort and hope of windy days, and the simultaneous fresh breeze coming through the open window next to me, smelling wonderfully and grazing my neck and face, and causing the papers taped on my windowsill to dance joyfully, swaying back and forth perfectly in tempo.

Spring is finally back and hopefully here to stay this time. And I kind of think God gave us those miserable, cold, wet two weeks just so we would fully, completely, rightly appreciate this beautiful sunny Friday.

(these are the views from the computer room......through our dirty, dirty windows.)

True story:

Beginning around 9:00PM last night, the sound of Mary Poppins singing "A Spoonful of Sugar" came wafting through the wall we share with another tenant in the building.

The sound of this quaint song continued--without pause--until we fell asleep around 10:30PM.

No lie.

Now, honestly, who in their right mind would listen to any song--but especially this one--on repeat for this duration of time? Once or twice, sure; it's a cute song. But after 90+ minutes of it, wouldn't it become just a little bit grating?

Erica and I tried to keep talking to each other in order to ignore it as best we could. But, without fail, every time there was a quiet lull in conversation, we would hear the annoying nanny chime in right on queue: "IN THE MOST DELIIIIGHTFUL WAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!"

I'm not sure you understand, yet. I mean, we were able to tolerate it pretty well, but we just have no idea how the girl playing it in her apartment could tolerate it. Can you really imagine 90 minutes straight of A Spoonful of Sugar?

Sing it to yourself. Right now. Go ahead.

Now sing it again.

And again.

And again and again and again.

And imagine doing that some more.

There's got to be more to this story that we don't know about.

Last week, after nicely asking him one too many times to stop talking and begin working, a boy told me to shut up repeatedly, then jumped out of his chair and said, "What are you gonna do, hit me?!? You gonna hit me?!?" I was baffled by his response, and did nothing except shake my head in disbelief and send him to the office immediately. He was suspended for three days.

He returned yesterday, and in the middle of class I heard him exclaim with anger, "YO! Who wrote 'WACK NIGGA' on my workbook while I was gone?!?"

Completely deadpan, I responded, "It was me."

He looked up at me in surprise. "What?! Yoooooo...are you serious?!" he asked in disbelief.

I stared at him for a moment to keep the suspense as his mouth gaped open. "No it wasn't me!" I said with a smile.

"Awww, I's about to say, mister!"

And then I busted up in laughter at the thought of me sneaking around the room, scrawling gangsta insults on the personal belongings of students with whom I have a vendetta. It would be a hilarious way to handle disagreements. And somedays, I think it just might be more effective than the typical methods...or at least maybe more satisfying.

China's got their own Sanjaya on their hands...his name is NEVILLE.

I desperately wanted to travel to Philly on Friday night in order to see my favorite Icelandic instrumental quartet, Amiina (the ones who inspired me to pick up the musical saw). But when tickets went unpurchased and I found no one to accompany me, I decided otherwise, and our weekend became very interesting from there.

I insisted with Erica that we do something a little out of the ordinary to keep me out of a typical Friday night depression, and with it being a pleasant evening, we decided to go hiking up at Bake Oven Knob, a small peak located on the nearest part of the Appalachian trail.

Shortly after arriving, a man appeared from among the rocks, face hidden under a baseball cap and a thick, unkempt beard. He was wearing dirty, baggy hiking clothes and drinking out of a plastic water bottle that he clutched like a security blanket. He spoke a greeting in his monotone voice and we returned the gesture. He stood on top of the rocks and stared out into the distance.

We eventually struck up conversation, as he asked if we were from the area and wondered if we knew anything about the house located just below on the mountainside. We ended up asking all of the questions and found out he was our age and had been walking since last February. He started in Florida, walked up the coastline on the beaches to Virginia, came through Washington, DC, and found the Appalachian Trail in Maryland a little more than a month ago. He had no tent or sleeping bag, and simply slept by a fire every night. He wasn't exactly sure where he was headed next, how much longer he'd be walking, or where his final destination was. He dodged the topic of family. Most of his thoughts centered around business, movement, change, and quantum theory. He had a lot of diverse desires and goals for his future plans. Trying to describe him is nearly impossible, as even when interacting with him, the minute you thought you had him pegged, he said something else that completely changed your perspective.

So, we talked about a variety of things, Erica chatting it up and dreaming and offering options and ideas as she usually does so easily and so well and me sitting and listening, taking it in with an occasional chuckle and awkward fidget.

Before long, we found ourselves extending an invitation to him: a ride into town, a home-cooked meal, a bed for the night. He took us up on it with little hesitation, and later informed us it's not something he often does. The majority of peoples he's run into have been unpleasant, angry, bitter, full of animosity, or just plain weird. But he could tell we were reasonable people, he explained.

He apologized ahead of time for his "lovely scent," and when we closed the car doors, we understood. The strong, pungent odor of several months of sweat and campfire smoke was oppressive. But we continued to talk the whole way home, telling him about the area and continuing to talk about his "journey" and other various topics. When we returned home, he showered while I made a large serving bowl full of pasta with chicken, asparagus, peppers, and peanut sauce. Dinner was served around 10:00PM, and we continued to watch him eat for two hours straight, eating several helpings of pasta, salad, several pieces of bread, and finishing off with strawberry shortcake.

On Saturday morning, I took him to the laudromat to wash the few articles of clothing he had. Meanwhile, I gave him a tour of the steel factories, which he thoroughly enjoyed. After getting his clothes, we found a dumpster behind a nearby grocery store. I watched him disappear inside and emerge several minutes later with 6 loaves of bread, 5 bags of bagels, 4 pork loins, a large bag of potatoes, and a bag of donuts. It brought a huge smile to my face! I've heard a lot about dumpster diving, but never expected the sheer elation brought by driving off with a backseat full of free groceries. Later, I showed him around historic Bethlehem, which appealed to his interest in architecture. An Easter bunny was waving to shoppers on Main Street, and both of us were surprised by its hissing-fang-bearing-look-of-terror that we think was supposed to be a jovial grin.

To make a long story a little bit shorter, Wes and I took him back to the mountain late Saturday night and had an epic goodbye on top of the knob.

He was no axe-murderer or fugitive of the law. (I googled him today with no conclusive results.) Sure, he got weirder and weirder as time went on, but it was nothing you wouldn't expect from someone who has been in complete isolation for over a year...nothing you wouldn't expect from a caveman entering civilization...Encino Man, for instance.

There is so much I could say about this short 24-hour encounter, both about this character we picked up and also about our selfish, fumbling, failed attempts in this experiment of what was supposed to be love and compassion and hospitality. I won't go into it all, but I will explain the focus of my thoughts...

When we were sitting up on the mountain and first found out about his journey, I leaned over to Erica and whispered, "I'm jealous." The part of me that is always wishing to be a hermit, always wishing to escape this world with all of its busyness and routine, always trying to avoid awkward socialization, greatly admired this man and his crazy life.

At several points, he talked about the idea of being self-sufficient. He liked the idea, and was obviously striving for it in his simplistic lifestyle. And sure, there is something about self-sufficiency that is appealing to many, perhaps in the way it integrates ideas of independence, conservation, individuality and simplicity.

And while I might have liked the idea before, it didn't take me long this weekend to realize that self-sufficiency is a myth.

If this man was self-sufficient, why was he taking us up on car rides, meals, a bed, a shower, and $2.25 in quarters to wash his clothes?

We need each other. Desperately.

I found it ironic that one of the first things he did when he entered our apartment was ask for permission to read the writing on the windows hanging in our hallway. Written on them at the moment are lyrics by Aaron Weiss and words by the Apostle Paul about our desperate need for each other.

In our world, so many people want to be independent and self-sufficient. In our world, middle schoolers along with so many others proclaim: "I don't need you! I do what I want!" And while so many people think this leads to contentment, it most often leads to isolation, loneliness, and depression. For me, it's been exciting lately to see the stark contrast of God's plan to this attitude, to see the importance of the body of believers, to see our dependence on God, and dependence on the people around us.

So for me, I learned that as much I want to be a hermit, it simply won't be fulfilling in the long run. I need the people around me. And I value my interaction with people much more than I sometimes let myself believe.

And for him, well, who knows what he thought. He admitted early on that, in being so isolated, any human interaction he has stays with him for days, every word ringing clearly in his head as he walks. Perhaps something we said or something we did will help him realize that he cannot be self-sufficient for very long, he cannot do it alone. He desperately needs a mom, a dad, a sister, a brother, a friend, a companion...and they need him, too.

"...What good is just one note?!..."