A Day in the life of a medical student

Sometimes life's trail takes you on turns that just leave you shaking your head and smiling. Have you ever looked down at your shoes while pondering life's oddities and thought, "what would myself one year ago think about me now?" I had that moment today when for the seventh time Zachary came up to me with a handful of crumpled up papers and said, "Clay won't stop throwing these at me." For the seventh time I said, "Okay Zach, I'll make a note of it" (mentally only of course).

I was substituting at Wilson elementary school. The third grade class. As part of my year off of radiology research, hiking, spending time with Anna, traveling, and fixing up what needs fixing I decided to fill in the gaps in my week as a substitute teacher. And today I became very familiar with my shoes, shaking my head.

But in reality, I've enjoyed the experience. If I did not go into medicine I probably would not have gone into teaching. But I still wanted to know what it felt like. And it is more enjoyable than I imagined. While I know substituting is only a substitute for the real experience, I still managed to get a grasp of what teachers go through day in and day out. I appreciate them on a whole new level. I barely had enough energy at the end of the day to bring the fork loaded with Anna's beef stroganoff up to my mouth. But the thought that the stroganoff would soothe my parched, tired out throat like a balm was enough to get the fork to it's destination. I haven't used my voice like I did today for some time and it's out of shape. Anna had a quiet husband tonight.

But seriously, let's pay full time teachers more! I would gladly increase the tax on our income if it went to public teacher's salaries. I felt more tired after today than a full day in the wards. And the sense of responsibility for the kids' lives must be overwhelming. I'm glad for the new perspective. Maybe next month I'll try a construction crew. I know I don't appreciate their labor enough.

A good story

In high school I read an incredible, literally hard to believe, story about a trek to freedom called The Long Walk. It's coming out on film. The link below can take you to a trailer:

http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/456488/The-Way-Back/trailers

The last movie I got excited enough to blog about, Robin Hood, I found disappointing. So I'm moving my eggs to this basket!

Running in Tucson

We have family come visit every now and then. Yesterday while out for a jog in the cold morning (cold day #3 out of a possible 5 this year) I was thinking what it must look like for visitors to run alongside me. About every half mile or so a hooded figure in what looks like flannels or maybe dark jeans would run past me in the opposite direction. I passed a bearded fellow in jean shorts and a hoodie. I've seen these people out running on the trail every single day of the year that it's cold, which is exactly five days. Always wearing the same attire, my fellow running mates could be confused for groups of running homeless. They (we) are not homeless, we are cold runners.

So if you visit Tucson, and like to jog, and it's a cold day, you can best fit in by dressing like a homeless person. Why would we buy cold weather gear for 5 days out of the year? We're not cheap, we're practical, and yes...maybe in debt.

So happy trails in your flannels and over sized hoodies handed down from your sibling's high school days.

Our Tucson

Saturday morning we were playing basketball at our church building. Half a mile away we had no idea what was about to happen. On my drive to the church I thought about my near and distant future. I had to go find some camping gear. I needed to return a Christmas present. Whatever happened, I had to make sure to listen to Car Talk. Next week, I had to make sure to fill out some forms for medical school. I kept wavering between thoughts of seeing True Grit or Tron with Anna. And I had to finish preparing my lesson for Priesthood.

I drove away from the church happy with my game on the court. As I turned on Ina and Oracle, I saw two cop cars speed by, followed by an ambulance. It wasn't until I got home to my computer that I read about the tragedy. In about 2.5 seconds, my life's issues distilled down to the basic elements of fear, survival, and concern for family and friends. My previous focus on material and entertainment issues simply evaporated. It wasn't a conscience choice, it just happened. At the end of the day, and for the rest of many people's lives, it simply is going to be a focus on healing and finding meaning in tragedy. Today I am still struggling with interchanging thoughts of hatred and sorrow for the killer. But he did something that brings me happiness. He has brought out the best of Tucson. I've been witness to a united community that I haven't seen or been a part of since 9/11. It's humbling. I love learning from those who deal with tragedy so nobly. And everyone who was struck has acted nobly. Even the killer's parents, I believe, responded in a way that helped me learn more about the beauty of humanity.

Everyone has shown future victims of tragedy that life can go on with your head humbly held high in the fight against evil. I love Tucson. A melting pot of so many cultures and backgrounds, the people are lively and happy. Here I've learned it not only takes a family but takes a village to create the community where good happens. And as it so happens, I've learned Tucson has true grit.

Ron Artest on the Holy Ghost

From espn.com

Artest agreed with a reporter who said that the charitable efforts have become almost a mission for the 31-year old.

"It's fun, it's exciting," Artest said. "It's almost like a basketball game because it's that exciting. It feels like dunking on somebody, and I don't dunk much. It's just exciting and it's weird. It's a weird excitement. It's not like fun and games because it's a real issue, but for me, it's exciting to be a part of.

Cheers...

Origins of Christmas Tree

I just wanted to know why I was decorating an evergreen spruce inside our apartment. I asked Anna, and she did not know either. So I went to Wikipedia and found two plausible origins to placing a tree in our homes in December. The first origin comes from St. Boniface in 16th century Germany. In defiance of the Norse gods Boniface cut down the tree of Thor, a huge oak. In it's place sprouted a fir, which he saw as a sign of Christianity's triumph over apostasy. He said, "let Christ be at the center of your households."
The second origin I like comes from Martin Luther, the reformer, who established the Christmas tree as the symbol of the tree of life in the Garden of Eden. Both of these are great. But I have a better origin, compliments of the Tingey family in Montana...
One day, a pilgrim family of six was traveling through the woods. Snow covered the ground. The kids were happy to be outside, walking and talking and throwing snowballs. Someone in the family, probably a boy, sat to rest by an evergreen. While enjoying the great blue sky, the boy noticed two birds racing across the sky. To the boy's surprise, the birds raced right towards him. Instead of flying into him, the flew in for a landing right in that evergreen close by. The boy noticed they were hiding in a nest in the tree. Suddenly, the two birds spoke to the boy.
"Please, help us!"
"Yes, we need help," cried bird # 2. "We are being chased by killer birds. Will you please cut our tree down, place it sideways in the back of your Ford pick-up and drive us to your home. You can disguise our tree by decorating it with lights that will confuse the killer birds. Then you can encircle it with popcorn strands to feed us while we stay in your tree. And don't forget to place neat, glass balls in the tree so kids can come by and grab them to throw at other kids. This will also scare away potential killer birds. And please, preserve our nest while you transport the tree."
The boy, in wonder, walked over to his parents and told them the implausible story of the scared birds in the evergreen nearby. Both parents smiled at each other and walked over with the boy to the tree. To their surprise, they heard the same two birds relate to them the same plea. And so, the pilgrim family cut down the tree and carried it back to their permanent-only-for-a-couple-years house. They protected the nest, decorated the tree, and enjoyed the rest of winter with the family and two scared, but protected, birds. And so the tradition grew, that each Christmas season, families began cutting down trees to protect innocence, preserve life, and enjoy family. And you always wondered where those "two turtle doves" came from !

Tender Mercy of Dish Detergent's Last Ounce

Have you ever noticed the last ounce of dish detergent always seems to pour out just a little more? It's funny because sometimes that last ounce lasts as long as a full bottle. And you can rest assured, when you're on the last ounce, you can remind yourself or your spouse to get new dish soap for a month before that last ounce runs dry. As a side note, if you say or type "ounce" a lot, it begins to sound and look funny. I like the guy in the picture giving his every OUNCE. ouch...