Christmas Behind Bars

The grass was that lovely Texas winter gray, a long, bleak strip of ground leading from the empty highway to the concrete complex. The occasional colorful marker or arranged stone symbol reminded one of the institution that operated such a place, the State of Texas. Not surprisingly, the parking lot contained only a smattering of vehicles. Who in their right minds would want to spend such a warm day in such a cold place? I was quietly escorted through the heavy doors into the processing area where a guard asked for my license and unlocked the holding bay. Any attempted subtlety in moving through the complex was impossible. The cumbersome bars swung quickly and sent a reverberating thud through the halls as the thick metal collided. The intercom prompted my continued escort across a small outdoor courtyard and into the central unit. The halls were utterly silent except for the occasional footsteps of guards dispassionately passing me through the main hall. However, as we turned the corner, a sound not commonly associated with imprisonment entered my ears. The deep and joyous voices of a men's choir echoed from the prison chapel. As I entered, the lively eyes a hundred men in dull lime colored jackets immediately turned to welcome the newcomer into their merry makeshift celebration. One would think that day would be especially dismal for those enclosed and separated from family and home, but no, it was a Christmas morning just like any other.

For the sake of small talk, most all of us attempt to break the silence of reacquaintance upon returning from the Christmas break by questioning others as to how they entertained themselves during the holidays. I wondered what their reaction would be once I assuredly replied that I had spent Christmas morning in prison.

This year, my father began working with a prison program that focuses on ministering to inmates of local state prisons. The length of sentences ranges from 6 months to 3 years and this course selects from a highly competitive field of inmates for a almost constant program of positive resocialization and spiritual immersion. (fancy words for a prison based ministry) It was something entirely new for my dad, but through our conversations over the semester, it seemed as if it was something that engaged him and kept him active in "the greater work." Because of this, I was more than obliged to accompany him to a Christmas morning service at the unit and meet the men that had kept him so busy.

It was an amusing thing to be getting up a 6 on Christmas morning; I hadn't done that since I was maybe 8 years old. For most of my teenaged years I was the sibling who refused to get out of bed and was accused by all the younger tots of prolonging their wonderful tree-side memories. Now look who's returning the favor...

We were a little late to the service, but none of that mattered to the fellow attendees. We were showered with numerous smiles, waves of the hand, and verbal, welcoming proclamations. Apparently, my father was quite the celebrity. The makeshift choir sung many of that standard hymns of the season, the chief pastor gave a short sermon, and a former convict got up and shared his path to prison and the grace of God that freed him from the greater prison of sin. But perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of the morning was the meal shared after the service.

With a table full of every breakfast pastry known to man and a chapel full of hungry men who were rarely exposed to such modern day delicacies, it wasn't surprising that the provided napkins were loaded high with the "less than traditional" goodies. I made the rounds about the room as everyone wanted a quick word with the instructor's son. Where I went to school and what I was studying came up often; there was a consensus that if I weren't playing basketball, I should be.

It became apparent that I was talked about a lot in class, maybe because I'm college and entering that "prime of youth," I'm not sure. I can only guess that it provided my dad with another ally of conversation. And it certainly sounded like the many topics reached all ranges of... propriety. Maybe you catch my drift, but they're issues that come up frequently, so why not address them? These guys may have been spiritually young and still fighting to conform to starkly different values, but it was hard to resist their charisma.

As we began to leave, I noticed that flatness of our rear tire and so a necessary maintenance session soon ensued in the largely empty prison parking lot. I couldn't complain about the company; the family band who had provided some entertainment made sure to lend their assistance and share a quick visit. Through all if it I couldn't help but chuckle inside; this was certainly a unique Christmas, and I rather liked it.

We soon got a call from my younger brother who was fed up with waiting on our morning escapades and wanted to get to his unwrapping; it's was too bad he wasn't having the fun we were. It has been a few Christmases since I really cared about gifts that much, or at least for those weeks leading up to big day; that seemed to have left by around mid-high school. I still try to put together some kind of list, but that's mostly to get everyone off my back as I stumble through my wants. I have so few needs. This Christmas only confirmed that even more. I went through those few years of full on rebellion and disdain for all that is modern day Christmas, but now, all that's behind me. I don't mind playing along with the traditions because I get a sense of meaning from something that is deeper.

This last Christmas has been an example to me of how much my family has changed, or maybe how much I have changed; perhaps it's a little of both. I think we all as adolescents have to go through those awkward years, when those infamous family meetings or activities utterly disgust us and the prospect of getting along with siblings is a lost cause. Those rates of maturity never matched up and though none of us were willing to admit it, we all had some serious growing up to do. I've always gotten along with my oldest sister, but those two youngest fist throwers? You can forget us ever engaging in intelligent conversation...

Maybe it's that we need some distance and a different point of view, or maybe those young ones freak out once big brother leaves the nest and are compelled to step up and fill the roles? Again, maybe a little of both, but for the first time in my memory I enjoy my entire family's company and would have no problem spending the entire day with them. That maturity level that tortuously lagged behind for my entire life at home is starting to catch up and I welcome the company.

I heard so many college "acquaintances" who hated their Christmas break, and it's because of this that I thank God continuously for giving me a family that enjoys itself and for giving me a humbler perspective and a chance to see what's really important this last Christmas. (that sounded like a Hallmark card, bleh) This feeling might wear over a longer period of time, we'll have to see what summer brings; it's only a month away.

America: In Defense of a Dream

Below is what has become of my humble explanation for a YouTube video which I recently uploaded. It began as a handful of excuses but ended as a philosophical declaration on-

America: In Defense of a Dream

It was more of an experiment than anything; a tampering with various photos of earth and man, the innocuous trialing of film editing. There was no eager intention to make a statement or evoke an emotional release; all that may be felt is merely an unintentional derivative. The initial reaction of mine was to discount any consequent connotation and condemn the piece to the dwellings of feathery patriotic idioms, as something to be contained in the endless messages riddled with ethereal American pride and simplistic if not trite homage to a homeland and an indefinite ideal. Chain letters… chain letters most foul.

I would be quick to dismiss it, but something averts my self-detachment. Something holds me fast to this fanatical ultra-nationalism. The instinctive cynicist and realist in me quickly scoffs and points out the numerous flaws and failures; the oft detached and callous citizenry, the pony show of public appointment, the disregard for collective country past, present, and future. Our claims to unspoiled liberty and equality fracture in the face of veracity’s blows. Yet, I am still seized by an intention deeper than an instantaneous reaction to write off the display of unadorned communal identity. I want to keep dreaming… this dream of ambitious traitors.

We were branded the great governmental experiment, destined to disintegrate in our own dissension. Imperialistic Europe jeered our fledgling nation while in the throes of self-formation only to see us the savior from the waves of fascist tyranny. Our formation had no real outline; we lacked any blueprint for a people’s administration. Though commonplace now, the model of Lincoln’s government of, by and for the populace shook the cages of conventional rule centuries ago. Through the mist of creation a system that defies classification has emerged. We are constitutional, we are democratic, we are a Republic.

The idealistic picture of the United States is not reached in our true existence. It is an achievement that will, most likely, never come to fruition. The outcry of criticism often follows this realization that flawlessness eternally dangles just out of reach. But the naysayers have existed perhaps as long as times itself, the byproduct of the recognition of this fallen world. However, what if America’s greatness derives itself not from her perfection, but from her subtle, yet constant pursuit of this perfection? I do not wish to delineate the everyday actions of patriotism, but simply to take from its definition as love of country and the consistent aspiration for its betterment.

The depictions of the film reflect our nation’s identity, the contents of mountains, rivers, cities and plains, even more so, we as individuals are America. The denigration of our present state may be based in fact and uttered with the intention of positive resolution, but its existence endangers the common nationalism, the adhesive of our common taxonomy. For when negativity leads to division, it erodes our patriotic core and as with the great civilizations of old, we will inexorably decay into oblivion. This is not a fruitless call to obscure reality in a flag-covered tint, but merely a forewarning against an endless doubt and suggestion that our better days are ceaselessly to come. Our nation beseeches us to recall her prominence, to reverie for her eternal continuation, to learn from the past, labor for the present, look to the future… and more than anything, keep dreaming.

“There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.”
-Bill Clinton

A Few Things I Don't Get

As finals are beginning to wind down and I'm met with some genuine free time, I am compelling myself to post more than once every month. It may be delusional but I'm going to try to get back to a weekly pattern. So I have been mulling around a bit while not working on those final school projects attempting to find a subject to post on. I've considered a post on the death penalty... oh, you fell asleep too? Or something on my past thanksgiving experiences, or even something on the fast approaching Christmas holiday, but I've already beat that to death.

Then it hit me, I've already done it plenty of times before, so why not dedicate an entire post to it? From salads to Marie Calender's pies; from holiday shopping to the week staring on Sunday; from baseball to Romo-mania; from college life to our societies view of love, I've filled this blog with my riffs on pop culture. I've already ripped the BCS. Let's keep this thing going. Who knows, maybe this could become a regular end of the year tradition. (Oh yeah, traditions and the year ending in December... I hate those too)

A Few Things I Just Don't Get:

-World of Warcraft (WOW)
I believe I've already dogged on the multitude of "fantasy" fanatics out there. Ahh yes, shall I revisit my words verbatim?

"I've never been a big fan of the whole mythology craze and I've had a hard time understanding why some people can get so infatuated with it. None of it is real; it is all completely made up and based on nothing of actuality. Where the heck did "elves" come from and why do some people seem to act as if they are real? I've come to theorize that the reason why so many love the supernatural is that it gives them a world in which they can at least fantasize about extra-ordinary power. In some extreme cases, it can be down right silly, but all of us are attracted to it to some extent. I see that the concept comes from God and his incredible power, but as always, the fascination can lead to the desire for self-empowerment."

A little preachy I know; I get that way sometimes. Regardless of the deeper spiritual correlations, I simply don't get the infatuation with the fundamentally fictional. Sure I'm like most everyone else, I like some good fiction in movies and books, but it still has to be believable for me. I can respect Tolkien as classic and genuinely good literature but as far as that whole genre, it really doesn't appeal to me at all. I guess I just despise supernatural storytelling because it can often negatively affect the writing, especially in terms of creativity. Oh no, our heroes are in a seemingly impossible situation, lets just overlook all those commonly held physical laws of nature and make up some quick fix out of nowhere and call it magic.

I don't get it and I don't particularly like it. It's probably the biggest reason why reacted so differently to the first two installments of Pirates of the Caribbean. I understand the allure of the unbelievable in entertainment; I call it the "Die Hard syndrome." However, I guess I find most of them to be believable to a point and the rest just appeals to the adrenalin factor. The ever increasing fantasy genre takes it too far for me all to often. It's probably why I simply don't enjoy the SciFi channel... at all.

Anyway, back to the game at hand. I don't even like the game classification; the whole role playing thing seems pretty stupid to me. Why would I want to spend hours "upgrading" some online character while engaging in less than enthralling combat? (Oh yeah, and they're all characters of fantasy; we all know how I feel about that) Am I the only one (and I know I'm not) who remembers the original Warcraft (or my favorite and slightly more believable Starcraft)? Those games were alright; I didn't mind playing them. I'm sorry, I enjoy real time strategy and first person shooters but I draw the line at role playing; it's down right boring.


And am I the only one who thinks that the game just looks absolutely retarded? I'm sorry, but for a game that involves itself in "epic" battles of fantasy with brutish and monsterish races it looks ridiculously bad and down right childish and comical. I swear, the first time I saw it being played I thought it was one of those late 90's educational games that teaches children basic math and grammar. If I have 3 elves and you give me 4 more elves...

What really bothers me is the prevalence of addiction right now. I'll admit it, on some weeks in the summer months I've spent 6 hours straight playing some ridiculously trivial game like Civ or Sim City, but after I pry loose my fingers from the sweaty mouse and let my eyes readjust to reality's light, I kick myself for wasting countless hours and promise myself to never play the game again. Admitting is the first step people. Honestly, I can understand the whole addiction to upgrading in gaming. By far my most favorite gaming activity would be Madden's franchise mode or NCAA's dynasty mode. I absolutely love turning the worst team in the league into a juggernaut in just 3-5 years and then moving on to the next cream puff. Now that is fun; but enough of that, I'm supposed to be on a tirade.

-The Religious Hullabaloo Over The Golden Compass
Keeping on the subject of fantasy, I'm getting pretty sick of "my" contingent's constant boycotting and whining over "anti-Christian" content. I can see where the movement is coming from and I don't have a problem with warning parents about the Golden Compass series' apparent anti-God undertones, but as always, people take it too far. Younger children are highly impressionable and I strongly support parents who screen what their kids see and hear. However, all the conspiracy theories on how Hollywood is plotting to jam atheism down our collective throats are getting kind of old. There are no grand conspiracies and even if there were, it shouldn't be that big of a surprise. Christ himself warned us that his own name would be persecuted.


I'm not challenging the fact that this series doesn't contain an agenda, I just don't understand the frenzy over an all-out boycott. Do you really expect to go through your entire life without ever facing a differing opinion than your own? This Christian isolationism really pisses me off. Apparently they don't really want to reach the world with the gospel that much. As I've said, I understand parental discretion, but if I'm not mistaken, this movie targets tweens and teens who, in my opinion are old enough to not be swayed by every little dissenting world view. The teenage years are an important time for an individual to begin to witness differing opinions while still under guidance of parental figures. In other words, by the time their children are teenagers, parents should move beyond simply telling their offspring what to believe, but instead tell them why they believe what they do and answer questions about everything else out there. Some believers attempt to construct a complete "Christian culture" to dwell in, the Ned Flanders bubble as I call it. That's a bubble I'd like to pop.

-Trial News Coverage
Micheal Vick is the latest in a long string of celebrity and non-celebrity trial frenzies that frustrate the hell out of me. I don't mind so much the occasional story on an IMPORTANT happening, but all to often the media flock to the courthouses and fill the waves with nonstop headlines about nothing. It doesn't matter if there's ever actually any progress in the trial, the coverage never stops. Every aspect of the proceedings is talked to death and I really don't care about the entire thing. I didn't care about OJ, I didn't care about Robert Blake, I didn't care about Paris Hilton, I didn't care about the yogurt shop murderers (that may just be an Austin thing) and I don't care about Micheal Vick. Maybe I'm in the extreme minority cause it seems as if everyone cares, but who knows, that may just be more media hype. Give me something of meaning, give me something not so continually morbid.

Disclaimer: There, I'm done for know. For those who do enjoy WOW and trial proceedings or really don't want to see Golden Compass, hey that's your thing. I don't understand it but to each his own. I'm sure most people would lift an eye at many of my habits. Please don't take it personally, I just don't understand you!