Scene: High rise office building, downtown Houston or Dallas. It is college football season. Four long-time buddies are around the water cooler. All are native Texans and all attended different Texas colleges. They love nothing more than jabbing each other about their college football teams. It is Monday morning. Time for some good-natured smack talk among old friends—a Texas tradition.
However, the year is 2016. Things have changed. There are four superconferences of 16 teams each. Texas and Texas Tech are out west in the Pac16. Texas A&M is in the SEC. Baylor didn't make the cut and is in a lesser conference. So what do you talk about when the source of your conversations has dried up and gone away?
BU: So, TAMU... heard you guys grabbed a nice win in... ummm was it Maryland Saturday?
TAMU: It was Kentucky, but yeah, it was a good game. A lot closer than I would have liked, but it was a win.
UT: Who knew Kentucky even played football?! Maybe you guys were distracted by looking for Ashley Judd in the stands.
BU: Good thing you only play those guys every 4 or 5 years. They really had your number. That’ll develop into a nice little rivalry in what, about 40 or 50 years. How about you guys, UT, who did you play?
UT: Utah! You didn’t see the game?
BU: No, our cable package doesn’t include the PacLonghorn Network.
TT: I get the network, but I didn’t watch. Wisconsin-Ohio State was on and that seemed to be a more important and entertaining game. But I’m sure there were some pretty compelling storylines going into your game, UT. Isn’t your strong safety from Salt Lake City?
UT: Yep, so they showed his girlfriend in the stands a lot. It was pretty funny because she had a Ute hat and a Horns shirt. That makes for some great TV.
TT: What’s a Ute?
UT: No idea. I think its from “My Cousin Vinny.”
BU: Funny movie.
TAMU: Classic.
TT: Who do you get next week, UT?
UT: We’re on the road to Washington State.
TT: Where is that? Seattle?
UT: No, no that’s the University of Washington. WSU is in Pullman, in eastern Washington. Our fans fly 3-1/2 hours to Spokane, then drive another 2 hours to Pullman. But its a pretty drive. You know, if it doesn’t snow. Or ice over.
TAMU: Its funny to call Washington State “Wazzoo”--it really annoys other schools to make fun of their name! We’ve been sticking it to Auburn by calling them “University of Auburn.” Ha ha!
BU: A lot of fans going to Pullman?
UT: Well, with the economy the way it is, we don’t have a lot of folks making the trip this year, but with President Obama’s Jobs Bill #7, we should be filling that stadium with a sea of burnt orange in just a couple years.
BU: Well the Moscow, Idaho/Pullman metroplex area is a hotbed of football prospects, so the recruiting opportunities up there should be exciting for you.
UT: That’s what we are hoping. Hey Tech, what are you reading?
TT: A friend sent me a link to the Berkeley News Online. There’s a pretty complimentary story about Cal’s fan experiences in Lubbock. They were surprised that you could buy a glass of wine at Chili’s in the city limits. Sure it was Llano blush, but they appreciated the effort. Unfortunately, many of them were disappointed that there didn’t seem to be any place to get an organic micro greens salad with balsamic reduction and portobello mushroom foam. Oh, and there was one incident where a Cal fan drove out to the Big Texan Steak House and splashed red paint on the door and shouted “Meat is Murder!” But other than that, I feel like we are almost the same exact school as Cal! Its like you could swap campuses and no one would notice! I hear our friends in Stillwater feel the same way.
TAMU: Who did you take on, BU?
BU: Well it was our 3rd annual Sabine River Showdown with Louisiana Tech! The emotions were pretty high, you know with that possible Humanitarian Bowl birth on the line. It was all over the Waco papers.
UT: I didn’t realize Louisiana Tech still played football.
TAMU: Speaking of bowls, if we beat Alabama next week, that’s six wins and we pretty much lock up the BBVA Compass Bowl in Birmingham.
TT: Who will y’all play?
TAMU: I think we get the #12 Big Eastern Atlantic Conference team, which is looking like UConn at this point, but NC State has a shot.
TT: That’s going to be epic no matter which team you face! Plus your fans will get TWO trips to Alabama this year! You guys are racking up the frequent flyer miles with the trips to Lexington, Blacksburg, and Tuscaloosa! Not to mention Fayetteville and Starkville.
BU: But getting that win against Bama’s not going to be easy. Don’t they have that tailback from Plano with world class speed?
TAMU: Yep. Bubba Joe Dewberry-Marmelade. Heisman Trophy candidate.
BU: TAMU, didn’t you guys go after him pretty hard?
TAMU: Yeah, we gave him the “You can stay in Texas and compete for a national championship in the best conference in America line.” Unfortunately, Saban gave him the old, “You can WIN the national championship with us and still get to play in Texas a couple of times, since we travel to A&M and occasionally to Cowboys Stadium when Jerry Jones promises us a lot of money” spiel.
BU: Well, its nice of you to open up Texas to recruiting from out-of-state schools. It seems like that was the fair thing to do. Still, its a little sad that some kid’s family only gets to see them 5 or 6 times a season because they can’t travel 700-800 miles four or five times a year rather than 90 miles.
Remember the days when we used to play two or three other Texas schools? That was awesome for families. And not just football families, but all the sports. But I guess they can watch on TV if they have the right premium cable package. And the network broadcasts softball or rowing or golf. Its almost the same as being there with your kid...
TAMU: What are you complaining about BU, you guys still play UTEP and Rice.
BU: Oh, I know, I’m just reminiscing and wishing we weren’t stuck in Conference of the Western Mountains USA Conference and could play with the football powerhouses that have a well-deserved place at the table, like Vanderbilt, or Duke, or Indiana. But enough about our little Bible college, how about you UT and TT? How’s recruiting for you guys?
UT: Well, we are thankful that Mack Brown is an awesome recruiter. He’s pretty good about convincing those California boys to leave the perfect weather and beaches and their families for Austin. But there were some kids that we would love to have back who left Texas when they saw those beaches and bikinis on our trip to USC.
TT: Yeah, we told some of those California kids that we have a Chili’s AND an Applebee’s in Lubbock, not to mention that Buddy Holly statue, but we are not really signing up too many of them.
TAMU: Speaking of Lubbock, my neighbor’s daughter just got a scholarship from Tech to play volleyball! She’s a really good student, too, so she’s not really concerned about road trips to Corvallis, Oregon in the middle of the week. She feels like she can handle the stress.
BU: And speaking of volleyball, UT weren’t you guys in the running to host the Pac16 conference tournament?
UT: Well we were, but we got voted down 12-4, which is strange, because it seems like that is the tally on every vote we have. Maybe next year!
TT: Hey there, lets not bring other sports into this! We’re talking about football here! That’s what’s important! I wasn’t even aware we had a volleyball team, to be honest. But we get to see the Raiders tackle UCLA next week on the network. Gonna be a TON of people watching that one. Its one of those “dream matchups” everyone was so excited about when we created the conference! Sure some people will want to tune in to the once-in-a-lifetime Missouri-West Virginia SEC Brawl, or maybe Syracuse-North Carolina showdown, but I think our matchup is the best!
UT: Well, we’ll sure have a lot more of this spirited banter among us friendly foes next week, that’s for sure!
BU: And in two weeks when we all get together for our single chance to see two Texas teams play each other—the UT-TT game. See you then!
TAMU: Can’t make it--I told the kids I’d take them to College Station that day. We’re playing Ole Miss, and we don’t want to miss a moment when those traditional powers go head to head. Awesome. But we’ll be there in 2017 for sure!
Freeze frame of four buddies laughing and slapping each other’s back.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
San Francisco Day 6 and Wrap Up
The group pulled itself up off the floor and crawled into the vans as the dawn broke. We had an uneventful trip back down the peninsula to the San Jose airport.
Then we quickly got the vans turned around, found some coffee for the drivers and eventually we found our way to the San Francisco airport where our flight would be waiting. Group ticketing could have been better handled by the airport staff. We knew something was wrong when Chris French was addressed as Mr. Montana, and the passenger manifest was really a copy of the the 1987 San Francisco 49ers roster. Eventually, all received boarding passes, most for air travel. Bags were tagged and placed on the belts, never to be seen again, and the group was herded to security, where the line stretched back just past the Oakland church we had left just a couple of hours ago.
Thankfully, we had a TSA agent who had acquired some problem-solving skills along the way. He made a call or two and took our group to another scanning location, saving us and the miles of travellers behind us valuable time. We thanked him just before he was taken away in an unmarked TSA van with license plates registered in Nunavut Province, Canada.
We were able to get through the security scan with no major issues, though we were forced to lay down on the belt and go through the x-ray tunnel usually reserved for briefcases and purses. We moved quickly to our gate, took a head count, and realized that there was no plane at the gate. The gate agent explained that they were looking for a new plane for our flight. In retrospect, this is humorous, as I have a mental picture of Continental officials knocking on the Delta hangar door and asking to borrow a plane, like when you are moving apartments and need to borrow your buddy's pick up truck. "We promise we won't scratch it, we're only going to Houston, and we'll make sure the tank is full when we bring it back." And you would think they would try to make it up to us by borrowing a 747 or A380, but no, they went the cheap route and grabbed another 737, which has ample legroom if you built like Ken and Barbie. By which I mean, you are 12 inches tall.
So our 63 teenagers and a dozen or so bone-weary adult leaders lounged around the terminal gate while the plane was made ready. I became aware that it was time to go home when one our students came up and asked my name and offered me a sandwich and asked if he could pray for me. He realized it was me only after I addressed him by name.
But God was again gracious--once we were boarded safely, I found that there was NO ONE SITTING NEXT TO ME. 8 inches of extra room and three ounces of ginger ale. Heaven on earth, rivaled only by the joy of being home together as a family again.
Overall, this was an outstanding experience. I loved exploring the city. I really loved YWAM's mission and learning more about their ministry. It was a joy to see the mutual respect: the respect shown by the YWAM staff and our kids to the homeless population, as well as the respect that almost all of these people have for the organization--they know that they are loved. YWAM is truly demonstrating the love of Christ to those who need it. It was a privilege to meet and talk to so many. To pray for folks like Michael, and Kevin, and Joanie, and Calvin, and Tyson, Maude, Robert, and Clara. To listen to their stories, and let them know that they are loved. I believe that the kids that were with us came away with the same feeling. I pray they will continue to have that open heartedness toward those in our own city.
But almost better than the actual work we did was the love that developed among the students for each other (the Philos kind of love... there was a ban on anything more!). Many had not spoken more than a couple words to each other in the short time they met for Sunday school or youth group. Several didn't know each other at all. Yet when forced to be together in close quarters or on the street together, deep and lasting Christian friendships were formed. That is a joy to see.
So sleep was awful (at one point I noticed many of the homeless on the streets had what looked like better mattresses than I did, and I was ready to barter), the kids complained like teens do, but not for long, and food was not the best, but those were not the details that counted. I believe we left our hearts in San Francisco (and probably a pillow, a pocket knife, and maybe a t-shirt or two).
Then we quickly got the vans turned around, found some coffee for the drivers and eventually we found our way to the San Francisco airport where our flight would be waiting. Group ticketing could have been better handled by the airport staff. We knew something was wrong when Chris French was addressed as Mr. Montana, and the passenger manifest was really a copy of the the 1987 San Francisco 49ers roster. Eventually, all received boarding passes, most for air travel. Bags were tagged and placed on the belts, never to be seen again, and the group was herded to security, where the line stretched back just past the Oakland church we had left just a couple of hours ago.
Thankfully, we had a TSA agent who had acquired some problem-solving skills along the way. He made a call or two and took our group to another scanning location, saving us and the miles of travellers behind us valuable time. We thanked him just before he was taken away in an unmarked TSA van with license plates registered in Nunavut Province, Canada.
We were able to get through the security scan with no major issues, though we were forced to lay down on the belt and go through the x-ray tunnel usually reserved for briefcases and purses. We moved quickly to our gate, took a head count, and realized that there was no plane at the gate. The gate agent explained that they were looking for a new plane for our flight. In retrospect, this is humorous, as I have a mental picture of Continental officials knocking on the Delta hangar door and asking to borrow a plane, like when you are moving apartments and need to borrow your buddy's pick up truck. "We promise we won't scratch it, we're only going to Houston, and we'll make sure the tank is full when we bring it back." And you would think they would try to make it up to us by borrowing a 747 or A380, but no, they went the cheap route and grabbed another 737, which has ample legroom if you built like Ken and Barbie. By which I mean, you are 12 inches tall.
So our 63 teenagers and a dozen or so bone-weary adult leaders lounged around the terminal gate while the plane was made ready. I became aware that it was time to go home when one our students came up and asked my name and offered me a sandwich and asked if he could pray for me. He realized it was me only after I addressed him by name.
But God was again gracious--once we were boarded safely, I found that there was NO ONE SITTING NEXT TO ME. 8 inches of extra room and three ounces of ginger ale. Heaven on earth, rivaled only by the joy of being home together as a family again.
Overall, this was an outstanding experience. I loved exploring the city. I really loved YWAM's mission and learning more about their ministry. It was a joy to see the mutual respect: the respect shown by the YWAM staff and our kids to the homeless population, as well as the respect that almost all of these people have for the organization--they know that they are loved. YWAM is truly demonstrating the love of Christ to those who need it. It was a privilege to meet and talk to so many. To pray for folks like Michael, and Kevin, and Joanie, and Calvin, and Tyson, Maude, Robert, and Clara. To listen to their stories, and let them know that they are loved. I believe that the kids that were with us came away with the same feeling. I pray they will continue to have that open heartedness toward those in our own city.
But almost better than the actual work we did was the love that developed among the students for each other (the Philos kind of love... there was a ban on anything more!). Many had not spoken more than a couple words to each other in the short time they met for Sunday school or youth group. Several didn't know each other at all. Yet when forced to be together in close quarters or on the street together, deep and lasting Christian friendships were formed. That is a joy to see.
So sleep was awful (at one point I noticed many of the homeless on the streets had what looked like better mattresses than I did, and I was ready to barter), the kids complained like teens do, but not for long, and food was not the best, but those were not the details that counted. I believe we left our hearts in San Francisco (and probably a pillow, a pocket knife, and maybe a t-shirt or two).
San Francisco Day 5
Our last day in San Francisco came pretty early. Several of us had to take the BART to the airport to pick up the vans we'd need for the remainder of our stay. Little known fact: "BART" doesn't actually stand for anything. San Francisco wanted to be more "tourist-friendly" and began naming their trains after beloved cartoon characters. Unfortunately, funding was cut off before the completion of the "Elmer Fudd," "Strawberry Shortcake," and "Beavis" lines.
The leaders left behind at YWAM with the students were tasked with teaching life survival skills, which seemed appropriate given our activities this week. The kids were introduced to things like "brooms," "vacuum cleaners," and the ever-strange "sponge." Many were able to understand and utilize the crude instruments, though a few were apparently somewhat frightened by these miracles of custodial science and were unable to operate them. Many thanks to the brave leaders for managing to organize the clean up and packing with so few casualties.
The vans arrived and were quickly packed with kids and bags, and we said goodbye to our new friends at YWAM and thanked them for the lessons and the hospitality.
The caravan started moving and we were on our way to that most famous of all San Francisco landmarks. Of course I am talking about the birthplace of beloved seventies television star, Bill Bixby, better known as "The Incredible Hulk," or perhaps "The Greatest American Hero." I can't really recall.
Oddly enough, the kids weren't interested in that type of fascinating history, and we were forced to take them to see the Golden Gate Bridge. We crossed the bridge and ascended a hill on the other side, which rose past the tall spires of the bridge and majestically into the clouds. We soon found out that the trouble with rising majestically into the clouds is that there is no sun, and as such, temperatures at the top hovered around -27, with wind gusts of at least 89 miles per hour. I'm not sure that Roald Amundsen would have made it here. But the kids persevered for almost 18 seconds before screaming to be let back into the vans. Unfortunately, the vans had blown back down to the bottom of the hill, and we had to hike. At one point, we worried that Chris French had been swept over the fence into the bay, but when he showed up in the vans, we had to assume it was the biker from Reno we were talking to earlier.
Back through the picturesque streets of San Francisco. My group was not interested in playing "Who can spot a David Crosby look-a-like first," so keep that in mind if you ever have to drive a vanload of teens around a major metropolitan area.
We arrived at the world famous Fisherman's Wharf, named for the thousands of souvenirs available, all labeled "Fisherman's Wharf." The kids were allowed to roam freely in small groups. Remarkably, they all returned at the appointed time, though one group arrived in a taxi with the Stanford University "Tree" mascot and several members of the Stanford marching band. We thought it best to not ask questions and we embarked on the final leg of the journey.
We rolled across the Bay Bridge and into Oakland. We had heard stories that Oakland was "rough" or "sketchy," but that was not our experience at all, due in large part to the fact that we stayed on the freeways until we were well into the green hills of the far suburbs.
We dined in Emeryville and had dessert in Almeda, which sounds lovely until you try to drive to those places. I feel certain the freeway planners in the Oakland area were hired when there were no more jobs at the head shops in Haight-Ashbury. The interchanges strongly resemble a Peter Max poster, circa 1967.
We managed to get back to our church home for the evening for a wrap-up worship session and a good night's rest on the floor of their youth center. Which I found infinitely more comfortable than the matresses at YWAM. Home tomorrow!
The leaders left behind at YWAM with the students were tasked with teaching life survival skills, which seemed appropriate given our activities this week. The kids were introduced to things like "brooms," "vacuum cleaners," and the ever-strange "sponge." Many were able to understand and utilize the crude instruments, though a few were apparently somewhat frightened by these miracles of custodial science and were unable to operate them. Many thanks to the brave leaders for managing to organize the clean up and packing with so few casualties.
The vans arrived and were quickly packed with kids and bags, and we said goodbye to our new friends at YWAM and thanked them for the lessons and the hospitality.
The caravan started moving and we were on our way to that most famous of all San Francisco landmarks. Of course I am talking about the birthplace of beloved seventies television star, Bill Bixby, better known as "The Incredible Hulk," or perhaps "The Greatest American Hero." I can't really recall.
Oddly enough, the kids weren't interested in that type of fascinating history, and we were forced to take them to see the Golden Gate Bridge. We crossed the bridge and ascended a hill on the other side, which rose past the tall spires of the bridge and majestically into the clouds. We soon found out that the trouble with rising majestically into the clouds is that there is no sun, and as such, temperatures at the top hovered around -27, with wind gusts of at least 89 miles per hour. I'm not sure that Roald Amundsen would have made it here. But the kids persevered for almost 18 seconds before screaming to be let back into the vans. Unfortunately, the vans had blown back down to the bottom of the hill, and we had to hike. At one point, we worried that Chris French had been swept over the fence into the bay, but when he showed up in the vans, we had to assume it was the biker from Reno we were talking to earlier.
Back through the picturesque streets of San Francisco. My group was not interested in playing "Who can spot a David Crosby look-a-like first," so keep that in mind if you ever have to drive a vanload of teens around a major metropolitan area.
We arrived at the world famous Fisherman's Wharf, named for the thousands of souvenirs available, all labeled "Fisherman's Wharf." The kids were allowed to roam freely in small groups. Remarkably, they all returned at the appointed time, though one group arrived in a taxi with the Stanford University "Tree" mascot and several members of the Stanford marching band. We thought it best to not ask questions and we embarked on the final leg of the journey.
We rolled across the Bay Bridge and into Oakland. We had heard stories that Oakland was "rough" or "sketchy," but that was not our experience at all, due in large part to the fact that we stayed on the freeways until we were well into the green hills of the far suburbs.
We dined in Emeryville and had dessert in Almeda, which sounds lovely until you try to drive to those places. I feel certain the freeway planners in the Oakland area were hired when there were no more jobs at the head shops in Haight-Ashbury. The interchanges strongly resemble a Peter Max poster, circa 1967.
We managed to get back to our church home for the evening for a wrap-up worship session and a good night's rest on the floor of their youth center. Which I found infinitely more comfortable than the matresses at YWAM. Home tomorrow!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
San Francisco Day 4
Made it to day 4. Slept really well. Too well. Roommates recalled being awakened by elephants being tortured with jackhammers sometime in the night. Gotta make an effort to sleep on my side tonight.
Big victory of the day was waking up in time to go to a coffee bar! O dark caffeine mother! How I have longed for your pleasant bitterness!
Made a couple of sandwiches for today’s event. Forced the repressed memories of making school lunches into the recesses of my mind. At least there were Girl Scout cookies as part of the lunch. God’s grace is amazing.
Kim Katopodis also had a victory she wanted me to mention, but this is a family blog.
Gathered up our groups after a brief morning worship time and walked down to Civic Center Plaza—an interesting mix of city bureaucrats, art students, homeless, and tourists. It was difficult to judge who needed our prayers the most, but since the homeless were our target market for the week, we set about the plaza in groups of two to ask the homeless if they’d like to eat lunch with us. This was a wonderful way to talk to the folks on the streets and we did have some nice conversation and prayers with people. Unfortunately, part of the process was actually eating one of the lunches ourselves. Call me a snob, but I hate plain old lunch bread sandwiches, I abhor plain old lunch bread sandwiches with American cheese. Guess what we were forced to make and eat? I ate it but it honestly distracted from my conversation. Note to self: Next time I make sandwiches for the homeless, buy some nice aged Gruyère for sandwiches.
After lunch, we stayed in the plaza to set up a Prayer Booth to ask passerbys if we could pray for them. This was difficult for most people. I broke the ice by asking for them to pray for Gruyère cheese, but I think they were preparing for a few deeper requests.
The kids handled it all with great maturity and enthusiasm, and despite a few rejections, related mostly positive experiences at our debriefing time. I was very proud of all of them.
Then it was back out the doors and back on the streets (Editors note: this would be a fine lyric for a Bruce Springsteen song. Or at least a Bruce Springsteen cover band song). Our destination was dinner at an Indian restaurant. Or perhaps we accidentally told them all we were going for limb amputations. The moaning and complaining were roughly equal. But after being challenged all week to step out of their comfort zones, the kids were able to overcome their fears and taste Chicken Tikka Masala (Editors note: Excellent!).
The evening finished with Expressions, a worship and reflection program designed solely to get teenagers to cry. And a couple of adults too, to be honest. With kids emotionally and physically exhausted, God was able to move pretty freely around the assembly. It will suffice to say that it was a time that none of them will forget.
Tomorrow is a “free day,” as we clean up the building and head to the Fisherman’s Wharf area for some rest and relaxation. I opted to not sign up for the optional hill climbing seminar, and will instead explore the sitting still in one place activity.
Big victory of the day was waking up in time to go to a coffee bar! O dark caffeine mother! How I have longed for your pleasant bitterness!
Made a couple of sandwiches for today’s event. Forced the repressed memories of making school lunches into the recesses of my mind. At least there were Girl Scout cookies as part of the lunch. God’s grace is amazing.
Kim Katopodis also had a victory she wanted me to mention, but this is a family blog.
Gathered up our groups after a brief morning worship time and walked down to Civic Center Plaza—an interesting mix of city bureaucrats, art students, homeless, and tourists. It was difficult to judge who needed our prayers the most, but since the homeless were our target market for the week, we set about the plaza in groups of two to ask the homeless if they’d like to eat lunch with us. This was a wonderful way to talk to the folks on the streets and we did have some nice conversation and prayers with people. Unfortunately, part of the process was actually eating one of the lunches ourselves. Call me a snob, but I hate plain old lunch bread sandwiches, I abhor plain old lunch bread sandwiches with American cheese. Guess what we were forced to make and eat? I ate it but it honestly distracted from my conversation. Note to self: Next time I make sandwiches for the homeless, buy some nice aged Gruyère for sandwiches.
After lunch, we stayed in the plaza to set up a Prayer Booth to ask passerbys if we could pray for them. This was difficult for most people. I broke the ice by asking for them to pray for Gruyère cheese, but I think they were preparing for a few deeper requests.
The kids handled it all with great maturity and enthusiasm, and despite a few rejections, related mostly positive experiences at our debriefing time. I was very proud of all of them.
Then it was back out the doors and back on the streets (Editors note: this would be a fine lyric for a Bruce Springsteen song. Or at least a Bruce Springsteen cover band song). Our destination was dinner at an Indian restaurant. Or perhaps we accidentally told them all we were going for limb amputations. The moaning and complaining were roughly equal. But after being challenged all week to step out of their comfort zones, the kids were able to overcome their fears and taste Chicken Tikka Masala (Editors note: Excellent!).
The evening finished with Expressions, a worship and reflection program designed solely to get teenagers to cry. And a couple of adults too, to be honest. With kids emotionally and physically exhausted, God was able to move pretty freely around the assembly. It will suffice to say that it was a time that none of them will forget.
Tomorrow is a “free day,” as we clean up the building and head to the Fisherman’s Wharf area for some rest and relaxation. I opted to not sign up for the optional hill climbing seminar, and will instead explore the sitting still in one place activity.
San Francisco Day 3
Day three! Or as I now refer to it, “Kill the Old People Leading the Groups Day.”
The night before, we informed the kids that at that moment, they were “homeless.” They were given orders that they were not to change their clothes—they were sleeping in what they were wearing and not changing clothes the next morning. They had bus fare and no other money or cards. Also—and far more troublesome for teenagers—food was no longer available. Water yes, and they were allowed to sleep in their bunks (which isn’t exactly a luxury, if you know what I mean). At 5:45 a.m., the YWAM staff kicked everyone out of the building and locked the door. I could have done without them shouting obscenities at us as we left, but I guess it added to the realism.
Breaking into small groups, we headed into the city. My group purposely chose a route that, if we looked at it statistically, contained more coffee shops per square mile than any other place on earth. All had their doors open to the gorgeous weather, allowing the aroma of fresh brewed coffee to permeate the morning. None of them were giving their coffee away, however.
The Embarcadero sounds exotic until you are sitting with three sleepy grumpy teens at 6:30 in the morning. When the morning commuters started to pour into the city, I suggested we walk into the Financial District. They grunted which I took to mean "yes." Again, lots of coffee, none of it free. For the next five hours—aside from one or two conversations centered on why boys are jerks—all conversation centered on food. “Where are we getting food?” “When are we getting food?” “How much food can I get?” “Dude, we can get two tacos for 99 cents if we could only find a Jack-in-the-Box!” As soon as the reality set in that they would not be getting food for a couple of hours, we started walking again.
Walking in San Francisco is not like walking across the family room to grab to remote (which is my current fitness routine). I watched a Travel Channel program (after I found the remote that day) on Extreme Rollercoasters. I am now convinced that extreme rollercoaster planners simply took a stretch of San Francisco streets and built a scaled-down version using track instead of asphalt.
The rest of our day consisted of:
Climbing through the Financial District to Chinatown.
Walking through Chinatown, which was hilly, though mercifully, not a climb.
Moving on, we reached Telegraph Hill and Coit Tower. At the bottom of the hill, the students asked if we could climb the Tower. “Sure!” I said. It was still early. I had a bit of stamina at that point.
The stamina had fled screaming by the time we reached the top of Telegraph Hill. Spectacular view, which we observed for two hours while we recovered. Fortunately, there was an elevator available to get to the top of the Tower. Unfortunately it was not open yet. Fortunately, it opened while we were still there. Unfortunately it was $7 to ride. So it was time to hit the streets again.
Descending would have been a breeze with a rappelling rope.
But we made it down, went a few blocks and proceeded to...
Climb another hill. This time, Lombard Street
This is the famous “crooked street” seen in all the tourist brochures. The climb would have been easier had it not been for the 147 tourists clogging our way by taking a picture of the street. What an amazing concept—a street that is impossible to drive down not because of the serpentine twists, but because drivers must avoid the dozens of Japanese tourists STANDING IN THE STREET taking pictures of the oncoming traffic.
One of our teens correctly read the map and we led us down Leavenworth Street to the soup kitchen where we would eat lunch. SIDE NOTE: Idea for entrepreneurial types out there—a TOPOGRAPHIC Tourist map. Our young friend did indeed find the most direct route to the facility. Unfortunately, it crossed TWO of the highest points in the city. If we weren’t so tired, it is possible he could have had disciplinary action brought down upon him.
Despite the fact that we would have eaten sauteed shoe leather at that point, the meal and conversation at the soup kitchen was a great experience. It is a extremely well-run and love-filled operation.
Since we didn’t spend our meager allowance on food, we opted to buy bus fare to Golden Gate Park. EDITORS GRAPHIC DESIGN NOTE: I assume the San Francisco “MUNI” transportation logo was one of those 60s heritage leftovers that San Francisco embraces. It can be the only explanation for the groovy acid trip vibe. Maybe someone equated “Trip” with “transportation.”
Speaking of trips, our bus drove through Haight Ashbury, the epicenter of Summer of Love in the 60s. They try to keep the spirit alive with smoke shops a-plenty and other “non-traditional” stores. The puzzling part, and I am not making this up, was the number of tourist families walking the streets of this district. I could only imagine the conversations: “Look at the counterculture, kids!” “This is what used to call a ‘Head Shop’” “Back when mommy and I dropped acid, we always wanted to come here and party with the Grateful Dead!” If Mickey Mouse was walking around in a tie-dye shirt, we could have been in Disney World’s Bad Trip Land. What a long strange trip indeed.
Golden Gate Park was lovely and we headed through the fields... and up a hill. At this point, my thighs had all the strength of Snak Pak Chocolate Pudding. I made it no further. We stayed in the park not moving for about an hour and returned on the bus to the YWAM facilities, where the staff said they were full for the night and directed us to a vent down the street. They later relented and we were allowed to shower and change clothes and brush teeth (it was strictly voluntary--I am convinced that some boys simply sprayed a lot of AXE on themselves and may have even squirted it in their mouth).
We finished the night with a fun outing to a Giants baseball game. Our seats were on the View Deck—at the top of the stadium. How did we get there? Ramps. Uphill ramps. They found me face down in my garlic fries.
The night before, we informed the kids that at that moment, they were “homeless.” They were given orders that they were not to change their clothes—they were sleeping in what they were wearing and not changing clothes the next morning. They had bus fare and no other money or cards. Also—and far more troublesome for teenagers—food was no longer available. Water yes, and they were allowed to sleep in their bunks (which isn’t exactly a luxury, if you know what I mean). At 5:45 a.m., the YWAM staff kicked everyone out of the building and locked the door. I could have done without them shouting obscenities at us as we left, but I guess it added to the realism.
Breaking into small groups, we headed into the city. My group purposely chose a route that, if we looked at it statistically, contained more coffee shops per square mile than any other place on earth. All had their doors open to the gorgeous weather, allowing the aroma of fresh brewed coffee to permeate the morning. None of them were giving their coffee away, however.
The Embarcadero sounds exotic until you are sitting with three sleepy grumpy teens at 6:30 in the morning. When the morning commuters started to pour into the city, I suggested we walk into the Financial District. They grunted which I took to mean "yes." Again, lots of coffee, none of it free. For the next five hours—aside from one or two conversations centered on why boys are jerks—all conversation centered on food. “Where are we getting food?” “When are we getting food?” “How much food can I get?” “Dude, we can get two tacos for 99 cents if we could only find a Jack-in-the-Box!” As soon as the reality set in that they would not be getting food for a couple of hours, we started walking again.
Walking in San Francisco is not like walking across the family room to grab to remote (which is my current fitness routine). I watched a Travel Channel program (after I found the remote that day) on Extreme Rollercoasters. I am now convinced that extreme rollercoaster planners simply took a stretch of San Francisco streets and built a scaled-down version using track instead of asphalt.
The rest of our day consisted of:
Climbing through the Financial District to Chinatown.
Walking through Chinatown, which was hilly, though mercifully, not a climb.
Moving on, we reached Telegraph Hill and Coit Tower. At the bottom of the hill, the students asked if we could climb the Tower. “Sure!” I said. It was still early. I had a bit of stamina at that point.
The stamina had fled screaming by the time we reached the top of Telegraph Hill. Spectacular view, which we observed for two hours while we recovered. Fortunately, there was an elevator available to get to the top of the Tower. Unfortunately it was not open yet. Fortunately, it opened while we were still there. Unfortunately it was $7 to ride. So it was time to hit the streets again.
Descending would have been a breeze with a rappelling rope.
But we made it down, went a few blocks and proceeded to...
Climb another hill. This time, Lombard Street
This is the famous “crooked street” seen in all the tourist brochures. The climb would have been easier had it not been for the 147 tourists clogging our way by taking a picture of the street. What an amazing concept—a street that is impossible to drive down not because of the serpentine twists, but because drivers must avoid the dozens of Japanese tourists STANDING IN THE STREET taking pictures of the oncoming traffic.
One of our teens correctly read the map and we led us down Leavenworth Street to the soup kitchen where we would eat lunch. SIDE NOTE: Idea for entrepreneurial types out there—a TOPOGRAPHIC Tourist map. Our young friend did indeed find the most direct route to the facility. Unfortunately, it crossed TWO of the highest points in the city. If we weren’t so tired, it is possible he could have had disciplinary action brought down upon him.
Despite the fact that we would have eaten sauteed shoe leather at that point, the meal and conversation at the soup kitchen was a great experience. It is a extremely well-run and love-filled operation.
Since we didn’t spend our meager allowance on food, we opted to buy bus fare to Golden Gate Park. EDITORS GRAPHIC DESIGN NOTE: I assume the San Francisco “MUNI” transportation logo was one of those 60s heritage leftovers that San Francisco embraces. It can be the only explanation for the groovy acid trip vibe. Maybe someone equated “Trip” with “transportation.”
Speaking of trips, our bus drove through Haight Ashbury, the epicenter of Summer of Love in the 60s. They try to keep the spirit alive with smoke shops a-plenty and other “non-traditional” stores. The puzzling part, and I am not making this up, was the number of tourist families walking the streets of this district. I could only imagine the conversations: “Look at the counterculture, kids!” “This is what used to call a ‘Head Shop’” “Back when mommy and I dropped acid, we always wanted to come here and party with the Grateful Dead!” If Mickey Mouse was walking around in a tie-dye shirt, we could have been in Disney World’s Bad Trip Land. What a long strange trip indeed.
Golden Gate Park was lovely and we headed through the fields... and up a hill. At this point, my thighs had all the strength of Snak Pak Chocolate Pudding. I made it no further. We stayed in the park not moving for about an hour and returned on the bus to the YWAM facilities, where the staff said they were full for the night and directed us to a vent down the street. They later relented and we were allowed to shower and change clothes and brush teeth (it was strictly voluntary--I am convinced that some boys simply sprayed a lot of AXE on themselves and may have even squirted it in their mouth).
We finished the night with a fun outing to a Giants baseball game. Our seats were on the View Deck—at the top of the stadium. How did we get there? Ramps. Uphill ramps. They found me face down in my garlic fries.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
San Francisco Day 2
I was unprepared for the quickness and eagerness of teenage boys when there are limited shower facilities available and a short amount of time to use said facilities. It puzzled me until I realized that there were teenage girls present on our trip. Because of the ensuing waiting line, I was late for breakfast and thus the Youth Mission Leader Coffee House Order. This day was starting out bad. My back was already quite out of sorts because of my restless night on the YWAM mattress. It was a mattress in the sense that it was vaguely rectangular and a bit squishy in consistency, and it offered all the support of a bag of creamed corn.
After a breakfast of a dozen farm fresh Advil, we all gathered to worship.
After worship we were divided into our groups for the week. These were color-coded and the student leaders provided fun gifts and souvenirs for the team members. Though no one said it out loud, many believed that the 46” LCD TVs given to the Blue Team were somewhat excessive, even if they did have a blue case. Also, the Dusty Rose team felt a bit hamstrung by the lack of suitable Dusty Rose merchandise to use as gifts.
Our first assignment was a “Get-To-Know-The-Neighborhood” scavenger hunt. Our team attacked the list with gusto, quickly running through the activities. We felt that the extra credit item of getting into a knife fight with a crack addict was more suited to older kids and chose not to do it. KIDDING! Though the students did initially believe that we may have to get items from the homeless, the assignments involved several tasks to help the homeless, which seemed much better.
Our Green Team won the challenge and were granted exemption from any mission work for the rest of the week, which was nice. Unfortunately, the other teams threatened to quit, so we reconsidered and will continue to work. The losing teams did not receive Rice-A-Roni, The San Francisco Treat, as a lovely parting gift, which was disappointing, being in San Francisco and all.
After lunch, the doors of YWAM were opened for a dessert social for the homeless of the district. Kim Katopodis and her crew did an amazing job decorating the hall in a lovely “Enchantment Under the Seas” theme using only duct tape, old Coke cans, and gum wrappers. We were able to welcome many homeless to sit and enjoy a bowl of ice cream and some fellowship. Many of our students were able to have nice conversations and learn more about the people sitting at their tables in a very relaxed, non-threatening atmosphere.
Then we had a couple hours of free time and I took three guys down to Powell Street, which is the heart of shopping district in San Francisco. Being guys, we immediately stopped into the tacky souvenir t-shirt shops and grabbed that legendary San Francisco delicacy, Subway. They held the belching to a minimum, though, which was nice. Just to prove we were in San Francisco, we took a photo of a cable car, a quaint, old-fashioned mode of transportation, in which the only thing they have modernized is the excessive fare they charge for a ride of about a mile.
We returned for supper and to get ready for the final event of the evening, called “Hot Chocolate Evangelism.” Basically, the staff had the kids drink several dozen mugs of hot chocolate and eat donuts and then released them onto the streets to engage the homeless with their youthful vigor. Not really! Another funny joke! Who says the homeless situation is no laughing matter (Answer—readers of this blog perhaps?). The kids did go out to the large plazas where the homeless congregate and offer them a cup of hot chocolate and conversation or prayer. This was especially welcome, as the temperature had sunk into the low 50s. I drank most of the hot chocolate before the kids figured it out. I was their leader, so I needed to be comfortable in order to lead effectively, I reasoned.
The evening ended with a reveal of tomorrow’s plan... which should provide a great deal of material for tomorrow’s blog.
After a breakfast of a dozen farm fresh Advil, we all gathered to worship.
After worship we were divided into our groups for the week. These were color-coded and the student leaders provided fun gifts and souvenirs for the team members. Though no one said it out loud, many believed that the 46” LCD TVs given to the Blue Team were somewhat excessive, even if they did have a blue case. Also, the Dusty Rose team felt a bit hamstrung by the lack of suitable Dusty Rose merchandise to use as gifts.
Our first assignment was a “Get-To-Know-The-Neighborhood” scavenger hunt. Our team attacked the list with gusto, quickly running through the activities. We felt that the extra credit item of getting into a knife fight with a crack addict was more suited to older kids and chose not to do it. KIDDING! Though the students did initially believe that we may have to get items from the homeless, the assignments involved several tasks to help the homeless, which seemed much better.
Our Green Team won the challenge and were granted exemption from any mission work for the rest of the week, which was nice. Unfortunately, the other teams threatened to quit, so we reconsidered and will continue to work. The losing teams did not receive Rice-A-Roni, The San Francisco Treat, as a lovely parting gift, which was disappointing, being in San Francisco and all.
After lunch, the doors of YWAM were opened for a dessert social for the homeless of the district. Kim Katopodis and her crew did an amazing job decorating the hall in a lovely “Enchantment Under the Seas” theme using only duct tape, old Coke cans, and gum wrappers. We were able to welcome many homeless to sit and enjoy a bowl of ice cream and some fellowship. Many of our students were able to have nice conversations and learn more about the people sitting at their tables in a very relaxed, non-threatening atmosphere.
Then we had a couple hours of free time and I took three guys down to Powell Street, which is the heart of shopping district in San Francisco. Being guys, we immediately stopped into the tacky souvenir t-shirt shops and grabbed that legendary San Francisco delicacy, Subway. They held the belching to a minimum, though, which was nice. Just to prove we were in San Francisco, we took a photo of a cable car, a quaint, old-fashioned mode of transportation, in which the only thing they have modernized is the excessive fare they charge for a ride of about a mile.
We returned for supper and to get ready for the final event of the evening, called “Hot Chocolate Evangelism.” Basically, the staff had the kids drink several dozen mugs of hot chocolate and eat donuts and then released them onto the streets to engage the homeless with their youthful vigor. Not really! Another funny joke! Who says the homeless situation is no laughing matter (Answer—readers of this blog perhaps?). The kids did go out to the large plazas where the homeless congregate and offer them a cup of hot chocolate and conversation or prayer. This was especially welcome, as the temperature had sunk into the low 50s. I drank most of the hot chocolate before the kids figured it out. I was their leader, so I needed to be comfortable in order to lead effectively, I reasoned.
The evening ended with a reveal of tomorrow’s plan... which should provide a great deal of material for tomorrow’s blog.
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