Spring Break 09

February 28 – March 7, 2009
Sea Kayaking
Little St. George Island, FL

I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to describing this trip. Lynette asked me to co-lead this trip with her at first but ended up backing out due to the upcoming wedding. Leah and I along with Ryan Bowen and Chris Collins loaded up vans with 7 other girls and 9 other guys and started the drive down to St. George Island.

The word of the week was Epic and that really is the only term I can think of to describe this trip. Quick summary:

Saturday
6:30am: Leave for Florida
11:30pm: Arrive at Journeys (Kayak rental place) sleep in vans in parking lot.

Sunday
Wake up cold with the van swaying in the wind
Because of the windy conditions, no go on kayaking to the island
Hang out at local diner Fire Station #9
Met Chuck and Jean. They give us some ideas one what to do in the area.
Explore Tate’s Hell (really, that is what it is called)
Meet Chuck and Jean for pizza. They offer the girls a place to stay. The boys head to Rod’s house…a guy that Emily (one of the girls) met earlier in the day and offered to help us out

Monday
Get the okay to put the boats in on the Gulf side even though it is still a little windy
Strap all gear to boats
Start the 6 miles journey to Little St George Island.
Jake capsizes
Get Jake into his boat
I capsize
I get back into my boat
Start paddling
3 miles in the group gets spread out at this point. The main focus: getting over the waves.
Hear someone yelling “Help”
Head towards the shore, Christa’s boat is sinking.
Get half the group on shore. Dump boats, get people moving to stay warm. More of the group arrives. Point out the ambulance lights flashing back down the beach.
Rescue truck arrives to see how we were doing. Inform us of the situation down the beach. 4 people from the group have hypothermia.
Series of events lead to the entire group reuniting once again with everyone in one piece and just fine.
Fire Chief offers us a place to stay in the firehouse.
Have dinner, dry out, and play a couple rounds of Bingo complete with a legit Bingo board.

Tuesday
Put the boats in the water once again this time on the bayside.
Make it to the Island with no issues. Amazing!
Set up camp
Make dinner. Enjoy campfire. Go to bed.

Wednesday
Wake up to tent making whipping sounds
Stay awake for the rest of the night wondering if our tent is going to blow away with all of us in it.
Finally breakfast time
Guys hike to different part of island
Girls have a relaxing day in the sun with some good conversation
Move the tent to a less windy location
Enjoy a good nights sleep

Thursday
Wake up to beautiful sunrise
Girls start the hike to the research center on the island
Guys visit it in the morning and start hiking back to the base camp
Explore research center and make it back to camp just in time for dinner
Round of Silent Football around the fire
Sleep

Friday
Wake up to a beautiful day. All head to the beach to enjoy last day on the island
Paul whips out his blue leisure suit for prom
Feast by the fire with deep questions and new insights
Say good night

Saturday
Early wakeup call
Boats back in the water on the bayside
Make it back to the kayak trailer with out a problem
Load the vans to head back
Flight the crowds as the Annual Chili Cook-off invades St. George Island

Sunday
The Black Widow (the mini van) having some problems
7:30am Arrive at IWU completely exhausted

I would include in here the original plan but I can hardly remember it. God had a different plan for us and showed Himself so many times throughout the trip through providing us with places to stay or having a dolphin give us a show as we did our morning yoga. The trip started with 20 strangers piling in to vans. At the end of it all, we came back a family with memories of a trip that with be engraved in our memories for years to come.

Valentine's Day

February 12, 2009

In a recent article about this years ACCT conference, a guy by the name of Joe was mentioned as being the one that was roped in to taking all of us to the Wild West so we could do some line dancing. Well, in return for that favor, he asked that we do something for him. He wanted to make Valentine’s Day something special for his wife se we came up with a plan. We would make and serve them dinner after which they would go to the Java and Jazz event on campus. Since Lynette did all the cooking it was up to me and the three L’s (Laurinda, Leah, and Lauren) to give them a night to remember. Well, that is exactly what we did. From the romantic atmosphere with fabulous background music to the menu cards and superb food, the night ran without a hitch and with a few memorable moments captured.

Snow Sculpture

February 3, 2009
















I wish I could claim this work of art but the truth is I have no idea who did it. I have heard that it was 3 or 4 college students. Whoever it was did a very impressive job and did Leonardo proud I am sure.

The Lone Star State

January 28 - February 1, 2009

In the past the coming of the new year is exciting until you reach January 2nd. Then the hard facts of many more months of snow begin to set in as does the wondering if spring will ever arrive. In the past three years the realization that January 2nd was here only brought excitement because this meant that the ACCT conference was fast approaching. As I exited the Soderquist Center, I wondered if the ACCT Conference would exit my life. Well, I didn't let it. Somehow, the way was made and I, along with Leah, Lauren, Laurinda (3 of Lynette's staff) and Lyentte found our way to Houston, Texas.

I love the ACCT conference just for the tiny fact that it is in a different location every year. I had never been to Houston before which was the case for Portland last year. The conference was good. I will admit that it wasn't as good as last year when it comes to the workshops, but as a networking function, it was hard to beat this year. The world became very small as some of the other Service Crew folks were from Converse, Indiana which is a whole, whopping twelve miles away from Marion. Through getting to know them, we discovered that they drove to Houston. Although this was very impressive, I asked the next question with a little angle of my own. "What did you drive down?" I asked. I am sure to Joe this seemed like a innocent enough question. "A mini van" was pretty much all I heard from his answer. My mind immediately began to do the math. 2 of them plus 5 of us equals 7. Being the sharp man that he is, he caught on to what I was thinking with my next question. "And that holds 7 people right?"

Prior to this conversation, the 5 IWUers thought it would be fun to try and find a line dancing place. I mean what else do you do when you go to Texas? Fortunately, line dancing is choreographed which made the idea of going dancing much better. It has been tradition ever sense Lynette and I started going to this conference to skip the closing ceremonies on Saturday night to do something fun. Last year we ran to Washington. The year before that we went and saw Blue Man group and the year before that we went and hung out with people that we knew that lived in Denver. Traditions take a little effort sometimes, so when I saw the opportunity door open, I walked through with boldness.

Like I said, Joe is a sharp man. He's next question to me was, "Where do you need me to take you?" Pulling out the don't want to inconvenience you card, I replied, "well, there is this line dancing place only 2 and a half miles away that we were thinking about going to. We can walk though."

8:30pm rolls around. We find ourselves piled into a minivan and heading toward The Wild West. Line dancing was the expectation. Instead we arrive to see couples contra-dancing. We are now faced with the biggest issue. 5 ladies sitting there with no one to dance with. What about Joe and Derec (the two guys from Converse, IN)? Upon agreeing to bring us they verbalized that if the place we were going didn't have any pool tables they were going to drop us off and go find a place that did. Fare enough. When we entered, they saw the pool tables and went toward them bringing us to our current problem.

After watching the couples work their way around the dance floor (average age about high 30s low 40s), one of us spots an older man sitting across the dance floor all by himself. Opportunity! I turn to Lynette, know that she can't turn down a good challenge, and double dare her to go and ask him to dance. She and Lauren accept my challenge. Minutes later, Lynette is pulled to the side of the dance floor for a practice round on steps. Then she is out of on the dance floor. While Lynette is getting her dance lesson, the last of us walk over and join Lauren who fills us in on the details.

Lynette sat down next to Leroy and casually inquired about the couples where dancing, He told her the polka and asked if she knew anything about it. She replied that she didn't and then she proceeded to ask if she would like to learn.

Leroy didn't sit down again for about an hour and a half. Once a song was over, he would ask if one of us wanted to dance the polka or the two-step or the waltz and then off one of us would go with him. Throughout the course of the evening, we found out that Leroy was 80 years old. He had climbed the highest peak in 41 different states. The only states left where in the Pacific Northwest including Washington the home of Mt Rainier. 41 states is a lot but over the course of 80 years that isn't too bad. Well, after further inquiry we discovered that he has only been doing this for the past 5 years. If her climbs Mt Rainier he will set the record for the oldest man to do it (the current record being 78).

When 10 o'clock rolled around we noticed the atmosphere of the Wild West change to be a little bit more wild so we decided it was time for us to leave. Of course we couldn't do that without getting our picture taken with our fantastic teacher. We all left the Wild West with a mutual affection. While getting ready to go, we knew that we made his night for he told us a couple of times and that he would have a story to tell all of those friends that usually met him at this place but couldn't make it this evening. That was a good feeling. But we can only hope that he felt and thought the same thing because without him being there we wouldn't have had such a great time or such a fabulous story either. Thanks Leroy!

It's Snowing!

January 14, 2009

Ah, Midwest snow. For the past three winters I have seen little snow. If it did fall in Arkansas it always melted within a few days. I will admit that being in Marion, Indiana is not always the best place to be when it comes to winter recreation. Flat land is not very good for sledding. Fortunately, this is not the first time I had faced this problem. In college, snow came every year and so we headed to the only hill in town. Money is always scarce when you are a college student. As they say "necessity is the mother of invention". The cafeteria trays were a favorite of some but not my little group of friends. Where the idea originated I am not sure just one of those things that gets passed along do to the common need that arises every year. With the tradition of using what you have, trash bag sledding began.

Again, I am in that situation where I have very little money. But even if I had to the funds to buy everyone a sled, I wouldn't. I would still go out and buy a box of trash bags, the heavy duty ones. Of course, you might think. Trash bags are water resistant and have a nice slick surface. All you have to do is put one on the ground, take a seat, and have fun sliding down the hill. If you thought this, I commend you for your logic. But by doing this you are taking something that has only a few qualities in common with what you are trying to replace. For one thing, a trash bag isn't made of hard plastic. It is very flexible. Two, because you are just siting on top of a sled it is very easy for you to become disconnected with it as you fly down the hill. For the trash bag, that factor would be even worse because of it's slick nature with not only the snow on the ground but also the cloths that you are wearing. In order for the trash bag to be most effective, you have to become one with it. (oh I see the wheels turning). Yup, that's right. Poke three holes in the trash bag; one for the head, two for the arms and wear it proud!

Now the power to live the life of a penguin is closer than it ever been before. My favorite approach: get a running start and fly down the hill on my stomach. This positions offers great speed (especially if you arch your back creating as little contact with the ground as possible resulting in very little friction) and control. If you are about to run into someone at the bottom of the hill, stick your hands out in front of you and jam the toes of your feet into the snow putting on the breaks.

Now, I must warn you that this method WILL draw attention. When Matt, Lynette, Aletheia, Candice, and I headed out to the hill in our trash bags; head began to turn. I was the first to shoot down the hill, and as I was walking back up the hill I head someone yelling "Miss! Miss!". I turned my head to see the source of the shouts. A young boy pulling a sled even with me on his ascend back up the hill. "Is that a trash bag?" He asked. "Yes it is," I replied with great pride.

Later after witnessing us torpedo down the hill in several different ways, I found myself standing next to the young boy. "I am going to use a trash bag the next time I come," he told me. "Oh yeah?" I replied. "For three reasons," he continued. "One, the are free. Two, they are better. And three, they are just AWESOME." I smiled at him and thought I couldn't agree with him more.

The Disarmed Christmas Re-bash

January 10, 2009

Over the past couple of months upon my return to Indiana, I have been working with Lynette a lot in her office. During the great amount of time spent in office, I have become more and more acquainted with her core staff. December, for college students, is a month of high stress. Projects due, papers to write, and finals to study for causing very little time for social events. So with that in mind, Lynette decided to save the Christmas party for the beginning of the next semester. We decided to do a "secret Santa" type of Christmas were everyone drew a name and they had to get something for that person. Usually there is a price stipulation enforced to keep things "equal". This was no where close to the case for this Christmas re-bash. Money was not to be an issue this time. Instead, you wee to think of money as being no barrier at all. We were instructed to get that person whatever we thought they would want as if money didn't exist.

Talk about opening up a world of possibilities. Basically, we could get them anything that was only limited by own creativeness and of course how well we know the person we drew. I struggled for about a day trying to come up with a gift for a person I didn't really know all that well. I think that hardest part was net telling Lynette the name of the person that I drew so that we could bounce ideas off of each other (don't worry, I held tight to my self-control). Once figured out what I was going to "buy", the next challenge was figuring out how I was going to present the gift.

I wasn't even close to being the most creative one in the ground. One of the staff members dress-up as her gift complete with board shorts and pictures of tropical paradises taped all over her body. (We all were laughing so hard that none of us even thought to whip out a camera. Very disappointing, I know). My gift this year was presented in an envelope labeled "Boss #2" and included my own private island off the coast of Greece and a private airplane to get me and whoever I choose to bring along to this gorgeous island. Oh if only this gift was real!

This Christmas re-bash was also garnished with the English tradition of Christmas Crackers. If you don't know what a Christmas cracker is please let me enlighten you (can you feel a story coming on). Picture a cardboard tootsie roll shaped item that is hollow in the place where the tootsie roll would be. In the hollow part are usually three things: a paper crown, a joke, and some kind of trinket. Traditionally two people grab onto the cracker, each taking one end, and then pulling away from each other. This cause the cracker to make a "crack" or "Bang" sound and split apart revealing the items inside.

The Christmas crackers that I brought back for the re-bash had everything that I described except one thing. They made no sound. When I bought them in England, there were fulling intact ready to make their little popping sound. The problem came when I started going through airport security. I put the crackers on the belt to go through the x-ray. When it passed through and made it to the other side, on of the TSA people working asked who the bag belonged to. I claimed it and approached the lady to see what the problem was. My education of Christmas Crackers began.

"Do you mind if I look inside your bag?" She asked.

"Go right ahead," I wondering what the problem was while also reassuring myself that I was a completely innocent person.

"Oh," she said as she looked inside the bag. "I see the problem. Christmas Crackers as not allowed in the cabin of the aircraft. They aren't aloud in the belly of the plane either."

At this point it probably would have been easier for her to say that they aren't aloud on airplanes at all. Holding back my attitude I replied, "okay."

She continued, "The only way they are aloud on the plane is if you disarm the cracker." Then is hit me, the part of the Christmas cracker that makes the cracking sound would be considered to be part of the firework family. Something that is, of course, not aloud on planes.

Completely, unfamiliar with the anatomy of the Christmas cracker, I ask, "How would I go about doing that?"

"You have to go back to the beginning of the security check point, and take out all of the card board strips that are attached to the inside of the crackers."

Decision time. The factors:
Time. I am running slightly late as it is. I have a plane to catch. I would have to go through the growing security line again then open up the nicely sealed box and take out each cracker one by one all the way up to number 12.
Importance. Do I just throw them in the trash and explain the situation to the staff when I get back?

I am amazed how the mind can weigh things so quickly. I grabbed the bag and headed to the area that the TSA lady told me about and started disarming my Christmas crackers at an increasingly fast rate catching some sympathy from people walking by and cardboard cuts on my knuckles. When I finished, I headed back to the line. The lady that looks at identification got up as I approached. She pulled back one of those black, zippy straps and told me to walk this way. It didn't take me long to realize that this secret path caused me to totally bypass the line of people. Here I was again taking off my coat a putting things in my tray for round two.

Round two was beginning to look like round one when that blessed bag of mine with the Christmas Crackers in it got pull aside. Fortunately, my favorite Christmas cracker educator took the bag and I again joined her exclaiming as I approached that I was faithful disarming all 12 of the crackers. Fortunately, she checked a couple and went with her gut which was of course to believe and very honest person like me.

As I claimed the rest of my things and turned on my airport walk speed, I thought about how things could have been worse. The Christmas crackers could have been in my checked bag. I didn't have to think of any other reason. That one thought made what I just experienced totally and completely worth it!

Unexpected Stamp on the Passport

January 7, 2009

Snow in Michigan or Chicago is one thing. Snow in Birmingham, England is a completely different story. So when I opened Mark and Hilary's door at 4:30am to head to the airport and was greeted by a light dust of snow, I had a feeling that it was going to be a long day. The flight plan: Birmingham, England to Brussels, Belgium, to Chicago, IL to Indianapolis, IN. Mentally, I had prepared for this day to be a long one anyway. Having to change planes three times never constitutes as a short day.

I was surprised when I arrived at the airport and looked at the screen to see that my flight was delayed only 40mins. I was a bit skeptical at first checking the monitor every ten minutes to find that my flight's status had changed. Yet no change appeared. A glimmer of hope started to rise and a little bit of guilt as well for thinking that England didn't know how to handle snow. I boarded the plane, trying to keep my feelings neutral. We begin to get ready for departure. Then, the PA comes one. "Hello the is the Captain speaking..." I chuckle to myself knowing that this is not the last time I am going to hear this man's voice. "Due to the current weather conditions, the airport is going to close for an hour putting our take off time at an hour and fifteen minutes from now." Translation: get comfortable, we are going to be hear a while.

Five hours later I landed in Brussels after a grand total of 1 hour in flight. I was informed by the flight attendant that weather issues where also occurring on the Brussels side causing all of the connecting flights to be delayed. I figured as much and hoped for the best knowing there was little chance that I was going to make my connection. After landing, I brought to the forefront of my mind that seconds do matter and started booking it toward my gate. As I approached, I gathered my information. No people in the waiting area = not a good sign. A plane still at the gate = good sign. Door to the jet bridge = not a good sign. So far, not so good signs were winning. I approached the desk hoping that whoever was sitting there spoke English. Sure enough he did, but what he said was not what I wanted to hear. I missed my flight by 20 minutes. He then instructed me to go to the costumer service desk to get rerouted. I turned my head in the direction he was pointing; however, I struggled to see the desk that he spoke of because of a HUGE line that had formed.

Fast forward three hours: I approach the customer services desk thinking to myself that I have never waited in a line that long even for a roller coaster at Cedar Point. But, this was not really their fault. Helping people takes time, and it was my turn to see what my options were. Due to me being just over eight hours behind schedule, no other flights would be leaving Brussels that day with the US as its destination. My only option, fly out in the morning to Newark, NJ and then head to Indianapolis.

I have had threats of being put up in hotels in the past but somehow I have always made it back the same day. Not this time. I was to spend the night in Brussels. Well, the competitive side of me didn't mind. Although I possessed a great desire to get home, I didn't mind having to actually walk on the soil of Belgium. The resounding sound of stamp hitting my passport made it all worth it and the fact that this was costing me not one single penny.

It would be nice to end the story there. Leaving you to think that everything went smoothly the next day. But that wouldn't have followed suit with the rest of my travels. All in all it took me about 48 hours to get back from England. The plane from Brussels to England was delayed just enough to cause me to miss yet another connecting flight. Fortunately, I had started my journey that day early enough so that was able to catch the following flight to Indianapolis. Once you past the 36 hour mark, what is another few hours.

2008 Stats

Other Snapshots from Christmas

Mark making the Christmas meal

Opening presents

Reading time with Grandad

Learning a New Language

December 21, 2008

Last year, my niece Lois was not yet crawling. Oh how much changes in a year. Now she is walking and running and jumping and talking and screaming like any year and a half old girl. Let’s just say I had a quite the learning curve to conquer. The reason being, although she is talking, there are many occasions when I have no idea what she is saying. She just keeps “talking” with such serious or silly body language that I wish with all my might I could understand what she was saying. Gradually I began to catch on. The words I hear the most are again, cheese (which was for the food and for a camera), where’s it gone?, book, spin, pippin (a dog on a TV show) and daddy. Daddy I heard twice as often because not only does she call Mark daddy but she also calls Hilary daddy with slightly a different tone. Plus she also knows some sign language which I also have had to pick up on.

Although I couldn’t understand her a lot of the time, she had no problem understanding me. If I asked her to go and get my water bottle, she would know exactly what she was to look for and would work her hardest to carry it to me even though the load was sometimes 10% of her body weight. She is a strong little cookie.

She definitely has some of the Westbrook blood in her when it comes to being fearless and the need for action (and also wild hair but that is another story). I can toss her around so much that I think I will make her sick. But the second I stop, she says "again". She loves to dance and flip and climb furniture and people. We have practiced our circus act on more that one occasion causing me to be sore the next day.

I am sure I will see her again within the coming year, but she will be a different girl in a lot of ways getting closer and closer to the age of children that I love. But by the next time I see her, she will have another role in the family besides being the crazy little daughter. Come mid-May she will have to play the role of crazy big sister and share mummy and daddy's attention with a little brother. I will have to go through the learning curve all over again with them both I am sure. Fortunately, kids (especially family) are too much fun to mind.

Cookie Exchange

December 13, 2008

Well I am back in England for the holiday season. My visit this time around is a bit longer than last year; 4 weeks in total. I arrived only to hit the ground running as Hilary and I started a baking frenzy. Hilary decided to challenge some of her friend over here to go a little out of their comfort zones. Baking for the two of us has been something we have been doing for years. You see, Hilary decided to host a cookie exchange; an event where everyone that is invited bakes a certain amount of cookies. All the cookies are then brought to one centralized please where each person then takes some of all of the other people’s cookies. The result is a fabulous smorgasbord of tasty treats. Well, for many of Hilary’s friends, this was the first time they have ever attempted to bake let alone bake in this high quantity. My taste buds decided with a shadow of doubt that all passed the challenge with flying colors.

BIG News!

November 4, 2008

For Lynette that is…she is finally engaged! I say finally because she and her now fiancé have been talking about marriage for a while. When I say “while” I mean long enough for me to already have my bridesmaids dress before she had a ring on her finger. So life around here will be full of planning and preparation from now until Easter weekend, two fold.

What I mean by two fold is that because Matt is moving in come April, I will be moving out. Where to? Well, fortunately I have the answer to that question. My next destination will be North Carolina and Virginia. How is it possible that this is one destination? I will be employed at Cheerio Adventures, a company that has two locations both of which I will be serving in before the summer is over. In the Spring I will be doing adventure education and in the summer I will be a trip guide working at the camp. I will be exposed to teaching and leading activities beyond challenge course and backpacking which in turn will enhance my outdoor education/adventure resume and confidence in hopes for something more full time in the fall.

Dear Yeti,

When I arrived back in Indiana, I was a bit surprised to find that you were now living in the backyard. I will never forget the day that Lynette told me she was going to give you away. I, like everyone else, was completely shocked by the declaration. I never thought I would see the day. I knew there had to be a good reason for her to do something like that. And there was.

I know that I have been hard on you in a lot of ways. I have refused to throw you your gross, slobbery racket ball on more than one occasion; and I scolded you when I found you lying in my bed. But through it, I think we came to a healthy understanding. Believe me I felt sorry for you when you were tied up outside this past month, but there was nothing I could do.

In the end, I think this move has greatly benefited everyone involved, you especially. Now you will be able to run free, learn to hunt, swim everyday while living indoors and being the fun, loving social dog that you are. Lynette is already missing you, even greater than she sometimes will admit.

I hope that you find all the attention, affection, and love you need in your new home. I have no doubt that you will.

When Worlds Collide

October 17-19, 2008
Being back in Indiana, the home of my college years, has brought many faces of old back to the forefront. The encounters have been great but still have been from one aspect of my life. This past weekend, a few other ventures of my life intersected in one of the most unlikely places: Wisconsin.


Originally, this weekend trip to Wisconsin was in order to make an exchange. It was time for Lynette’s dog, Yeti, to move to a new family that would give her all of the attention she deserves. Wisconsin was chosen because it was the halfway point between Minnesota and Indiana.
Lynette worked in WI for 4 summers and one full year so her connections in the area where we were going were significant, a place to stay was easy to come by. The Christian Adventure Association just happened to be having a conference there that weekend. One of the members of the CAA just happens to be a professor that I worked with while at JBU in Arkansas (a fact that I was not aware of until I walked through the door and saw him across the room). Too, the place where we were staying was just across the street from Devil’s Lake State Park where Lynette and I led a group rock climbing while in college. Furthermore, Devil’s Lake is not far from Madison, WI; a city in which a friend from college had moved to some months back. His wife (a good friend who I hadn’t seen in 3 years) is still in Georgia trying to sell their house, but she and their three children just happened to be coming up to WI that same weekend.














In two and a half days, all of these lines intersected some of which quite unexpectedly. All of which really makes me contemplate my past with a smile on my face. It is nice to know that whether it has been months or years since I have seen someone, things always just natural seem to pickup where they left off.

4 seasons

October 10, 2008
Sometimes I find it hard to imagine living in a place that doesn’t experience all four seasons. Each season brings such a unique pleasure, beauty, and those wonderful traditions that I look forward to every year. Being in the Midwest for the fall, I look outside and cannot help but appreciate all the change that is happening. I see the colors of the leaves, the height of the corn, the beautiful weather being not too hot or cold; everything in full transition in preparation for the winter. In many ways, I find this the hardest season to let go of. I have a feeling it will be the same again this year.