The problem of racial and socioeconomic segregation in Kansas City is a difficult one to wrap one's mind around. Those not from this area have a hard time believing things are as bad as I make them out to be. Those from this area generally have the same reactions, because the "walls" we have built up in this metro area are so high and thick that those with relative power and wealth have effectively insulated themselves from coming in contact with people of color and low socio economic status. The entire situation is difficult and ugly and requires a long nuanced discussion.

Enter Cross-X. A few years back, Joe Miller took on the task of chronicling the season of the area's best high school debate squad. That squad just so happened to be Central High School, which is located two blocks from where I work in the heart of inner city Kansas City. It is 99% black. It is over 90% free lunch. Prior to high school, none of the kids had any debate experience. And yet, they had a habit of traveling to prestigious national tournaments and competing for hardware.

Cross-X is one of those books that tells two stories at once. There is the story of the team, but then there is also the story of the author. As a white man of relative wealth and privilege, it is fascinating to watch how Miller's experience with the team opens his eyes to what is going on in his community. Already a socially conscious individual, he delves deeper into systems of injustice as he stands beside the oppressed and begins to advocate on their behalf while living life with them.

If you live in the KC area, I will put you on notice. You have to read this book. If you don't, you are avoiding the harsh truth about what our community looks like. We are all culpable for the problems it faces, and we all bear responsibility in the renewal of our neglected and oppressed populations. I know those are strong words, but I feel that strongly about how well this book discusses race and power.

If you don't live in the KC area, I still strongly recommend the book. If nothing else, it's a very compelling story. But there is a lot more than that, as well.

Fair Dinkum

There are exactly 5 bands/artists who I make a point of supporting on release day. They have a corpus of work that has earned my trust, and I anticipate their latest creations eagerly. U2. Dixie Chicks. GRITS. Outkast used to be on the list, but I miss their older southernplayalistic stylings. Lauryn Hill would be on the list if she came out of retirement. As it stands, Alicia Keys now takes a place on the list. When an absolutely wonderful R&B singer who also happens to be a classically trained pianist drops an album the same day that lip-syncing Britney Spears does the same thing, who do you think I'm going to pay $15 to in order to make a point? Good guess.

The final entry on my list is David Crowder* Band. They blew up the spot with their last album when they broke out the banjos and blasted us with the bluegrass electric fusion funk. It was risky, yet amazing.

This latest album isn't quite as risky. That's fine. I love it. It's been a long time since I purchased an album and proceeded to wear it out by listening to it over and over and over again, but that's exactly what happened in this case. I'm pretty sure I listened to it all the way through at least 6 times the first week I owned it. I'd be cruising down the road blasting crowder, and Elli would be sitting in her car seat clapping and grinning. The kid has good taste, what can I say?

What continues to amaze me about Crowder is how he manages to do what few other worship bands are able to do, in my opinion: release studio albums that don't sound canned and contrived. I guess Charlie Hall manages to do it as well, but they are in short company. Lyrics that are well thought out and deep. Shout outs to great hymns, with wonderful new choruses added in between the traditional verses. Slamming beats. Contemplative quiet.

The one thing I kept thinking over and over as I listened to the album was that I can't wait to hear it performed. I imagine the concert experience to be tons of fun and at the same time very moving. I can't wait to rock it.

Fair Dinkum

This kid is amazing. Just blossoming away like a little peach and hitting all kinds of developmental milestones. Why, just this week, she passed two of them...

1. She is really good at pushing buttons. We have a family tradition at our house of playing on the be every morning. Elli loves to walk all over our bed, fall on the pillows, jump, look at the ceiling fan, play with our alarm clocks. The usual. It probably feels like an expansive field compared to her crib. So, yesterday morning my alarm clock goes off. I feel like a truck has run over me. I can't imagine why I'm waking up so tired. I hit snooze a couple of times, and then turn the clock off. Then I make the cardinal sin of falling asleep again after the clock has been turned off. Don't do that. After a period of time, I wake up panicked. I grab my clock and it reads 7:25am. Stink. Not a problem for the guy who has to go into work at noon, but certainly a problem for his wife who should have been catching babies at the hospital at 7:00am. But then I come to a startling realization...It's still dark outside. Hmmmmmm. I look at Stacy's alarm clock. 5:20am. Interesting. So Elli knows how to push buttons in a way that resets daddy's alarm clock. That's gotta be a developmental milestone.

2. On Monday, Elli was taking her bath. I usually am an active participant for the first 15 minutes, and then I grab a magazine. The kid loves to romp around in the tub, and so I let her play until she gets tired of it. Well, as I'm reading I look over to see Elli extending her hand out to me. Not an empty hand, mind you. A hand holding a piece of poop. A piece of poop that she is giving me. Good for her. She is wise enough to know that poop doesn't belong in the bathtub. Certainly a developmental milestone. This wisdom came at a price though, because she then finished her dirty work as I was depositing her gift in the toilet, thus creating a lot more work for us. It seemed like the appropriate time to clean out the tub and start bath time over again. But certainly, our first bath poop ever was a great milestone.

Fair Dinkum

Isiah Thomas' video-taped deposition, played the other day in a federal courtroom, contained a curiously phrased denial. When asked if a white male Knicks executive had referred to a black female Knicks executive as a "bitch," Thomas became vehement, certain that it could not have happened under his watch.

Forget team policy, he said: "It would have violated my code of conduct ... A white man calling a black woman a bitch ... That is a problem for me."

But a black man calling a black woman a bitch — just one of the offensive terms Thomas himself is alleged to have used in addressing the plaintiff — is somewhat less offensive in his estimation. "Not as much," said Thomas. "I'm sorry to say. I do make a distinction."

-From a Mark Kriegle article on Foxsports.com

As a person of color, Al Sharpton tends to be problematic for me when I engage in discourse on matters of race. He's always in front of the cameras, and many times his presence and presentation leads one to believe that he is more interested in advocating for himself than for the voiceless.

White people are very aware of this fact. In conversation with people, I have often heard some form of the hypothesis, "If the roles were reversed and the black person were in the wrong, would Sharpton make such a big deal out of this?" On the one hand, it's a fair question. But at the same time, the question serves as an unintentional and unnecessary diversion from whatever relevant issue is being debated.


So I was delighted to hear Rev. Sharpton come with a take this past week that adds a helpful dimension to his public persona, effectively undercutting the caricature that most people (present company included) view him as.

Isaiah Thomas was recently held liable in court for sexual harassment of a fellow New York Knicks front office member. As part of his hearing, he submitted a taped deposition where he made distinctions about how language by black men and white men toward black women should be judged. It was a distinction that a lot of people found ridiculous, and for good reason. One of those people just so happened to be Al Sharpton.

A few days after the Thomas decision was made, Sharpton publicly called for Thomas to apologize for his comments. He upped the ante by then contending that if Thomas does not apologize, Sharpton's organization will picket Knicks games this season.

This is a huge development. Obviously, Sharpton calling out a popular African American is a big deal. But to then picket a sport and team that is wildly popular within the African American community is arguably a bigger stand. It's an unexpected stand, but a welcomed one.

My hope is that Thomas realizes that a sincere apology would be appropriate. If not, then I hope that Rev. Sharpton makes good on his pledge to picket. I think it would be helpful to both of us.

Fair Dinkum

It came, I met it head on, and it was everything I had imagined it to be and more. Yesterday, I was a judge at the American Royal Barbecue Contest. 500 competitors. 500 judges. Pounds and pounds of finely smoked meats, with $12000 and a competition smoker on the line. The following is an account of my day. Non-meat related details have been edited out, since this post will be long enough as is.

7am - Wake up. Usually my alarm clock is a screeching, horrendous sound that I dread. Today, it sounded as though angels were singing softly in my bedroom.

7:15am - Opening snack while reading the paper. I went with coffee and half of a peanut butter and honey sandwich. Just enough to get the metabolism going, but not enough to stick around for the rest of the day.

9:00am - Trek to the lavatory with a news magazine. Gotta maximize available intestinal space for maximum digestion.

9:30am - Wardrobe selection. I go with green nylon pants from Old Navy and a grey Mecca t-shirt. Casual and comfortable.

9:45am - Hang out with Elli while she eats her second breakfast of the day. I sneak a couple of grapes. Hey, a little fiber can't hurt anything.

10:30am - Grab "BBQ JUDGE" parking pass. Slip a pen in my pocket. Kiss wife. Kiss child. Embark on my adventure.

10:40am - Begin walk from parking lot to the designated judging area. The competitors are all pretty quiet. Smokers are smoking and puffing rich, meaty smoke into the air. My stomach grumbles. My mouth waters. My pace quickens as I attempt to still my madly beating heart.

11:00am - Check in at the non-certified judges table. I get my official lapel pin. I am directed to my seat between a couple of very nice gentlemen. I find out that they are from Chi town and make this trek every year to judge at the Royal. They also compete in the prestigious Memphis in May competition each year. I start picking their brains about the competitive barbecue circuit. I'm soaking it all in, loving the fact that I have been gifted such a fortuitous seat.

11:05am - A friend from church comes over to my table to greet me. He asks if I brought a bag. Uh, no. Rookie mistake. Judges are allowed to take leftover portions home. He gives me a bag, which is a huge relief. Now I won't be tempted to eat every scrap of meat put in front of me. I now notice that some judges have brought small bag coolers into the building. Smart.

11:10am - My bubble is burst as I'm moved to table 51. There goes my own personal informational session. Suck. I now have a three certified judges on my left, and two non-certified on my right. Nobody smokes competitively. The two non-certified women have traveled from Florida to judge in the competition. Small talk ensues.

11:30am - We are informed that they have run out of aprons, so our table will not be getting any.

11:34am - I'm starving. I eat one of the saltines in front of me, and take a swig from one of the many bottles of water at our table.

11:35am - Judges meeting begins. It consists of a man greeting us, and then playing a CD of the official rules. We're near the speakers, and it's so loud I consider covering my ears.

11:43am - We take our official oath as judges. "I do solemnly swear to objectively and subjectively evaluate each Barbecue meat that is presented to my eyes, my nose, my hands and my palate. I accept my duty to be a judge, so that truth, justice, excellence in Barbecue and the American Way of Life may be strengthened and preserved forever." That's what I call patriotism.

12:03pm - The chicken is brought to our table by our Table Captain. He has a huge tray with six Styrofoam boxes on it. Each box has a contestant number taped on it, and includes at least 6 portions of meat. All of the meat must rest on green lettuce and/or parsley. Our table is silent as we evaluate the relative beauty of each entry. We grade each box from 1-9 on presentation. The Table Captain then passes each box around and we each take a portion. Now, we begin tasting each piece, and grading it from 1-9 on both taste and tenderness. Between each contestant's entry, I take a swig of water and bit off of a saltine to clean my palate. Overall, it's very good. Except for my last piece. For some reason, the chief picked a recipe that included encrusting the chicken thigh in rock salt. Blech.

12:15pm - Our table turns in our scoring cards. We clean the table and chat about our impressions. I pick the brain of the certified judge sitting next to me, and vow to take the certification class this year.

12:27 pm - Our table captain brings the ribs out. Note to self: don't submit spare ribs to competition. They aren't as pretty and are way tougher than baby backs. Both of the spare rib entries get lower scores at our table. One is so bad that I don't even put the leftovers in my bag to take home.

12:44pm - Ribs judging concludes. I get a good tip on giving the ribs a honey glaze when you pull them off of the smoker.

12:15pm - Pulled pork enters the arena. I'm pumped. It's my favorite. One contestant take a risk and submits a terryiaki sauce on the pork. It's good. Not the greatest, but the risk was probably worth it.

12:45pm - Pork exits the arena. The lady next to me remarks that she's stuffed. Uhhh. You better suck it up. We still have brisket, lady. I will admit, I'm getting the meat sweats at this point. I regret not wearing shorts. I try to walk it off, but it doesn't help. I also regret not bringing some unscented wipes to de-sauce my hands that are getting progressively grubbier.

1:20pm - One of the organizers takes the mike and informs us to stick around following brisket, because we will all be judging sausage. Sausage doesn't count toward the composite Grand Champion score, so not everyone does it. The crowd goes wild.

1:27pm - Finally. The brisket is out. 4 of the entries are very good, and make me realize how much I need to work on my brisket skills. The other two? Bad, bad bad. Like chewing on leather.

1:42pm - Brisket is gone.

1:56pm - Sausage enters the arena. We only get three entries. None of them are great. The problem is the contestants used salty and flavorful rubs, which isn't necessary since sausage is already spiced. Too bad. I don't pack any of it up to take home.

2:05pm - I'm outta here. I lug my 4lb bag of meat leftovers out to the car with a huge sense of accomplishment. I'm soooooooo full. Certainly going to have to sleep this off sometime this afternoon. And take a shower. All of that meat sweating has made me a little ripe, if you know what I mean.

2:20pm - I enter my home the victorious bearer of meat. I kiss the baby. I kiss my wife. Stacy remarks, "Either you or that meat smells very fragrant."

Fair Dinkum

I guess I'll have to keep my "Wal Mart is Satan" shirt in the closet for a while.

Ok, so I don't actually have that particular shirt, but there have been times I wish I did. I don't shop at Wal Mart. I find some of their practices to be dubious at best, and I detest what they do to local businesses. That being said, there are a couple of recent developments that cause me to soften my stance somewhat.

I was talking to a architect friend of mine a couple of weeks ago, and one of his projects involves working with Wal Mart to make their buildings more environmentally friendly. I've heard it said that McDonald's is really in the real estate business with all of the property they own all over the world, and I think that Wal Mart is in the same boat in this country. They are in every town, and usually get sweetheart land deals to move in. If a country that size makes even a minimal effort to improve their environmental footprint, then you have to think that the efforts can make a large overall impact.

The second development was a bigger shocker to me. It actually doesn't involve Wal Mart proper, but rather Sam's Club. They have made the decision to switch their Premium in-house coffee over to Fair Trade Certified coffee. Their 39 ounce cans are going to sell for under $7, which is really a great deal. The word on the street is that this is one of the biggest contracts that Fair Trade coffee has secured, which raises two major questions:

1. When will other companies step up to the plate and follow the example of Sam's Club?
2. At a little over $2/pound, shouldn't churches be flocking to Sam's to buy their Sunday morning coffee reserves in a way that is both socially and financially conscious?

Which brings me to a strange place. Actually encouraging churches to support the empire that is Wal Mart. So here's the deal. I'll stop being huffy, sucking my teeth, rolling my eyes and muttering under my breath when people tell me that they are going off to shop at Wal Mart. I'll stop fasting and praying for their release from sinful bondage. I'll stop referring to Wal Mart as "Freaking Wal Mart (ugh)". I'm not ready to start shopping there, but I'll give them props for their efforts and will soften my militant stance.

Fair Dinkum

The asterisk can communicate many a splendid thing. It can communicate that people think you used steroids and growth hormones to bulk up, thus they look at your sporting achievements with a bit of doubt. Or, it could mean that your proposition has some sort of loophole that will be explained at the bottom of the page in legal jargon. In this case, it is meant to convey the fact that I evaluate life events on on two separate scales.

Some days of my life are in the running for Best Day Ever (no asterisk) because they hold deep emotional or spiritual significance. The day I got married. The day we went to the orphanage to pick up Elli. Really important days.

But then there is another group of days. Days that hold little significance, but that exist in my mind as days where I accomplished achievements on a grand and mythical scale. These are the days whose stories grow in stature each year. These are the days that make other grown men giggle while at the same time causing a twinge of jealousy to spark deep in their sternum as my feats of manhood are recalled.

October 7, 2007 will be one such day. For many years to come, it will be in the running to be named my Best Day Ever*. For it is on that very day that I will be a judge for the 28th Annual American Royal Barbecue Competition: Open Meats Division. It will be my honor and privilege to sample and grade approximately four pounds of smoked meat in one of the most prestigious meat smoking competitions around.

Please know that I take this job very seriously. It's not all fun and games here, people. A lot is on the line. The grand champion is awarded a new competition smoker, as well as a cash prize of $12,000. It's kind of a big deal.

I'll be honest. This is like Christmas for me. I may very well fall into a meat coma when all is said and done. I probably need to procure a designated driver, just in case my body isn't properly able to process all of the protein in a timely manner.

I've already warned Stacy that I'm going to be pretty ridiculous following the festivities. I've wanted to enter a contest such as this for a while, but am still honing my skills before I go pro. Knowing how these things are judged can only help my chances when that wonderful day comes, though I'm sure this will give me the itch to get in there and rumble with the big boys. Don't worry. When the time comes for me to join the circuit, you'll read it here first.

Fair Dinkum

"I have a soccer question for you! Why is it such a big deal to switch goalies during a game? The US women should have done that today against Brazil and they didn't. Please explain."
Abby

Welcome to the first edition of "The Mailbag". It's a new feature, seeing as though this is the first question ever to be posted to the blog.

Really, it's a great question. It stems from the Women's World Cup Semifinal match last week between The US and Brazil. Up until that point in the tournament, the US had been starting a young keeper by the name of Hope Solo. While she gave up two goals in the first match of the tourney, she responded with 300 scoreless minutes. That's really good. Well, for this huge match, the Greg Ryan, the US coach, decided to go with a different keeper. Brianna Scurry has been a great keeper over the years for the US, but she hadn't played a full match in three months. And yet, she got the start.

Unfortunately, the swap went horribly awry. Scurry allowed 4 goals, and the US ended up losing 4-nil. Which brings us to the question of the day. Why not just pull Scurry? There are a few reasons:

**Rules: each team only gets three subs in soccer, so you have to pick and chose when you use them.
**Situation: The first goal of the match was actually an own goal. A US defender deflected the ball into the goal off of a corner kick, so it wasn't actually Scurry's fault. Then Brazil scored another goal in the 27th minute. Right before the half (45th minute), one of the US players got sent off for a hard foul. That meant that the US had to play with just 10 players the rest of the match, while Brazil still had their full 11. This changes everything in terms of how you use your subs.
**Bench: You only have so many bench players. Since they are at such a premium, teams usually just carry a single substitute keeper. Thus, you don't really want to use that sub unless there is an injury to your primary keeper.
**Offensive Ineptitude: Things might have been a little different if the US was down 3-2, or tied up at 3-**However, since they were getting throttled, subs had to be made in a way that would maximize offence. Conventional wisdom mandates that you bring in fresh legs that can score. Since the keeper doesn't run or have opportunities to take shots on the other goal, you use your subs at other positions.
**Ego: Ryan made a bold move to not have Solo in goal. It was stupid, but bold. Coaches won't typically admit they are wrong, and pulling Scurry would have been one such admission.

The whole situation is a huge bummer. The US Women's National Team is very popular, and a win over Brazil to put them in the finals would have been huge. But as it stands, they had to settle for a third place trophy filled with controversey. It didn't help matters that Solo publicly blasted Ryan and Scurry. I guess there is always 2012

God is doing a really great job of staying on message lately. I do believe I'm starting to get the point.

It all started a couple of weeks ago when we got a picture in the mail from an organization we supported last year. They sent a picture of what our money went toward, and at first I thought the pic was photo shopped. I didn't have a great reason the jump to that conclusion. I was just having a cynical day.

Upon further review (thanks to Stacy), I found out the pic was legit to the max. And as I looked at it, it humbled me. It occurred to me that it was the best money I had spent that year. It humbled me to think that God used our family to do something across the world, and it made me feel a little ashamed that I wasn't doing more. Perhaps some more generosity was in order.

Then we went to church. The sermon was about tithing, but what it really made me think about was the gifts and offerings that are given in addition to tithes. It also made me think about the practice of tithes and offerings as a spiritual discipline. Again. Generosity.

And then Barbara came over the other night, with pie in hand. Barbara lives across the street from us and runs and inner-city youth ministry out of her home. She's an angel. An angel who was bringing us a pie. As the story goes, her church had a picnic on Sunday. At the end of the picnic, she was given a pie. Her very first thought was not, "Wow! God is so good! I have a free pie!" No. She's a way better person than me. Her first thought was, "Wow! God is so good! Who can I bless with this free pie?" Answer: Dashiell's.

With image and word and fruit, God is staying on message. Be generous with a purpose, because God is generous to us and our generosity helps us keep our focus on God. Good message.

Fair Dinkum

One of the kids I work with brought a book home from school yesterday. I was pleased to learn that wordsmith Andy Griffiths has authored Zombie Butts from Uranus. It is best summed up by its own back cover.

Strange Butt Two - True!!!!
Zack Freeman is on his way to becoming a first rate butt-fighter. He has gone head-to-butt with all kinds of stinky scoundrels and butts-gone-bad. But even our doody-full hero is a-gassed by these latest stench invaders. They're round, blue and smelly. They're ruthless, cunning and very cheeky.
Their odor is unstoppable.
Their mission is downright foul
And they won't rest until Earth is wiped away by their nasty fumes! They're ZOMBIE BUTTS FROM URANUS! And the galaxy is but one boy (and his butt) away from total reek-dom...
The heart-stopping, nostril-burning sequel to THE DAY MY BUT WENT PSYCHO!

Two words: Literary Genius.
Though I am a little mad. Not that this book was published by Scholastic, but that it was not published when I was in middle school. I totally would have read it. Heck, I probably would have memorized it. Hats off to Andy Griffiths for molding the minds of Americas Youth.

Understandably, at least half of you don't think I'm telling the truth. Would Amazon lie?

Fair Dinkum