The Third Heaven

Healed

2006-11-25T21:31:00.000-05:00

So we got our first family cold last week. Right before thanksgiving. My daughter gave the bug to both my wife and me. They, of course, were fine within a day or so, while I got worse. I hadn't been sick in a while, and I didn't want to be sick on Thanksgiving. So, I did the usual, honey-lemon-this-that-and-the-other-thing. I also prayed for healing. Not only did I pray to get better, but to get better by Thanksgiving.

Well, typically, it takes me a week to two weeks to beat a cold, but this time, I refused to settle for anything thing less than recovery on Thursday from the cold that hit me the previous Saturday.

As the days rolled past, I felt myself begin to improve rapidly, almost to my surprise. By Wednesday night, I stopped using my cough drops because I was tired of my mouth tasting like menthol. By Thursday morning, I felt 99% healed. That is what I was thankful for.

The Power of Hope

2006-11-13T13:56:00.000-05:00

It has been a while since I’ve made an entry, but a lot has occurred that I had problems deciding which topic to include. So, I have decided to put it all under the umbrellas of the power of hope.

November 1, 2006 has to be the warmest November I can remember in almost a quarter of a century of my life in Boston. The foliage color on the tree in the Public Garden reminded me of the beautiful autumns of my high school years that I always tried to replicate with watercolors in art class but never could. I then thought one way (war) or another (apocalypse) all that beauty could end in destruction. But it then it also seemed to me like heaven on earth, as I walk through, with people of every color coexisting in peace.

Then Deval Patrick became the first black governor of Massachusetts. This was something I honestly never thought I would live to see, and I’m not even at midlife, expected midlife anyway. But there it was. The icing on the cake was that the Democratic Party regained control of Congress. I pray they make judicious use of their power for the better good, particularly, for the victims of Iraq.

Finally, on my unwitting invitation some friends and family came to church last Sunday for my daughter’s dedication. Regardless of their belief or degree of it, they came. It blew me away. That’s the power of hope.

With Liberty and Justice for All

2006-10-26T23:48:00.000-04:00

So, I was in church last Sunday, and the pastor and bishop began politicizing about married folks taking a stand against gay marriage, by a follow-up to the church's rally at the State House last week. The alleged purpose being to lobby the state legislature to allow the question of gay marriage to be put on the ballot for the voters of Massachusetts to vote. I agree with the purpose, but not the means to that end. The people should get to vote on this issue.

To take things further, married couples were asked to stand in support of marriage being between a man and a woman and against… [insert rhetoric about the demon of homosexuality].

This is where I had to take a stand, by sitting down, while my wife stood. On the ride home I explained my position. While she didn't interpret the sermon in the manner that I did, she understood my position.

First and foremost I believe in the separation of church and state. Church leaders should not engage in politics, short of their right to vote, and holders of public office should knock of religious rhetoric, short of practicing their religion.

Now to be clear, I have and do understand that marriage is between a man and a woman. However, I don’t need a definition of marriage added to the constitution to remind me. Furthermore, I don’t support changing the Federal constitution to include a ban against gay marriage. For one thing, it’s unconstitutional on the grounds that the issues of marriage and civil unions are for individual states to decide. Also, I believe that arguments on both extremes of this issue have divisive effects on our communities and nation by further hostility.

Case in point, the pastor continued, relating an incident of a gay rights advocates beating down a sister of the church who handed them a flyer at the previous week’s rally. It was so bad, according to the pastor, that the State Police interceded in her defense and arrest the perpetrators. Talk like that does nothing to unite a people, especially when the story is not an objective one (i.e. all sides of the story).

I felt that first of all, the pastor and leadership could have done more to bring the community together rather than separate it. Because, if the pastor is right in saying only 2% (reported that is) of the population is gay, that would mean at least 100 people in the church were gay, let’s not even start to talk to those who have had a gay experience, or gay attraction, or are on the down-low (i.e. those who say their heterosexual but are really bisexual). 100 people that for whatever reason decided to come to church on that Sunday, maybe for the first time. Subtext of gay-people-are-demons, but-the-rest-of-us-sinners-aren’t, does nothing to bring them closer to Christ.

Second, the King James Version (KJV) of the bible uses "sexual immorality", rather than the more popular "homosexuality" in later versions. The former refers to not only homosexuality, but also includes adultery and fornication. However, adultery and fornication don’t get as much airplay because they are more culturally acceptable and/or indulged in, within and without the church.

As a Christian, I know Jesus would want me to welcome ALL sinners to the church regardless of their sins “for ALL have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23 KJV).

As far as the political debate goes, I don’t believe a ban on gay marriage, legalization of gay marriage, or a definition of marriage is the issue. The New Jersey Supreme Court decision put it best by ruling yesterday, according to the Boston Metro, that same-sex couples are entitled to the same rights as heterosexuals, but not giving an OK to gay marriage, their reason being

“The issue is not about the transformation of the traditional definition of marriage, but about the unequal dispensation of benefits and privileges to one of two similarly situated classes of people.”

No More or Less than what is Right for You

2006-10-16T11:36:00.000-04:00

So last weekend I had the pleasure of joining one of my best friends on a motorcycle demo ride. This is where a motorcycle dealership or manufacturer let riders take new models out for a spin in the hopes that a future purchase may be considered. Unlike with cars, it’s never a hard sell. There is absolutely no pressure to buy. It’s really to generate buzz via word-of-mouth about the new models. Plus, they had free BBQ!

Anyway, this was to be a BMW motorcycle demo ride so we were quite excited to have an opportunity to ride all the nice, expensive, and wonderfully engineered Beemers. Even thought BMW isn’t my preferred motorcycle brand, I like them enough to ride them given the opportunity. However, when it comes to motorcycling I’m more of a minimalist. Therefore, things like GPS, cruise control, a 6-CD changer, and heated seats on a motorcycle are way more than I need. I mean if I’m going to have all that, I’d rather be driving a BMW.

Anyway, we discovered that not only did this dealership sell BMW motorcycles, it also sold Ducati Motorcycles. Just to paint a picture, if Ferrari wanted to make motorcycles, they would have named the company Ducati. So, while I could have ridden any BMW I wanted, I decide to ask if I could demo a Ducati, specifically a Ducati Monster. Even though it was a BMW demo ride day the owner obliged me and brought out a brand spanking new, Ducati Monster S2R for my riding pleasure.

After thirty minutes aboard the Ducati, I revved back into the dealership with my friend looking on. For the rest of the day we sounded like the two old ladies in the Citibank ID theft commercial:

“No, no it was like WHAAAAAAA…WHAAAAAAA...WHAAAAAAA”

“Uh-uh, it went BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH

“Fun tho, shoot.”

“Yeah, shoot.”

My Three Amigos

2006-10-06T12:25:00.000-04:00

This week I found myself, wondering about who my friends are, due to a sermon I had heard. Relatives are important, the sermon said, but friends are essential. We have different levels and frequencies of friendship. The sermons asked to select three friend who had been the most exemplary in the past year and why. My three coincidentally, or perhaps not, where my three best friends. If God only gave me three friends, I would pick these three people.

As I looked at my reasons why these friends had top marks. I thought back to my friendship with each and how each has gone beyond the call of duty for a friend. These three friends have done things for me that I’ve needed but would never have the courage to ask. They have also helped me remove specks and logs out of my eyes when needed. We have fought hard, and we’ve played hard. They are people I turn to for serious advice on the big things in life; do I cut the blue wire, or the red wire?

These friends (like me) aren’t perfect, and have done things I haven’t agreed with (and vice-versa), but my relationship with each of these friends is very authentic in that we speak our minds while respecting each other. Most importantly, I strive to be, and I believe I succeed, in being the type of friend to them, that I wish them to be to me.

It’s About the Work Stupid

2006-09-28T12:45:00.001-04:00

Often I read film and writing magazines, and stumble across articles relating to why the writer writes. While there is almost always an acknowledgment of the need to get paid, and then the joy of getting published, at the core, the reason for the work IS the work.

As a writer of books, poems, short stories, screenplays, and an opera (yes, I wrote an opera once), I must admit to having lost my way as to my reason for writing. I don’t know why or how I lost my way, but my daughter helped me find it again.
Over the last year or so, I’ve started a number of writing project, but have not completed them. I would usually think that the story wasn’t worth publishing because the financial return on investment wouldn’t justify the effort put into writing it. At times, it was the other way around.

With the pending birth of my daughter last summer, I cleared my plate of all writing projects. That’s right; I wrote nothing except this blog. I made way for her addition in my life and figured I probably wouldn’t be able to do anything until 2007. Maybe I would be one of those people who have kids and then stop doing the things whoever hooked up with them and wanted to have kids, found so compelling in the first place.

Then something strange happened. Since I do my best writing at, I found that after my daughter would sleep during my “shift,” I would have pockets of time (a half-hour here, forty-five minutes there) where I would have absolute quiet anywhere between 10:30 P.M. and 2 A.M. When I didn’t use that time to count sheep, I would work on a short-story for a contest that I wanted to enter, more than I wanted to win. I was so engaged in the guidelines that, although I found out about the contest a month before the deadline, I cranked out the final draft and popped it in the mail ten days ahead of schedule. For work I considered rushed, it was decent. I was proud not only that I had a good story, but that I finished it with time to spare. That never happens to me.

I’ve started reading the Letters of Ayn Rand, She's a writer who exemplifies what I mean about the work being paramount. Money is necessary, publication is validating, (both of which I’ve experienced), but it is the passion for the work and what the writer has to say that drives him or her to write when the work is long and hard, when payday isn’t here yet, and your next (of first) publishing is nowhere in site.

When Your Heart Waxes Cold

2006-09-20T14:58:00.000-04:00

Over the last two weeks I’ve spoken to a couple friends and relatives that
have been discouraged in their faith because of despair (e.g. government just keeps getting worse), a hurtful experience (e.g. my wife left me).

That seems to be a widening trend where people feel things are getting worse rather than better. I was a victim of this, until recently. Having a daughter helped with that. Not that I no longer believe that certain things are getting worse, but I believe that certain things are getting better. Also, since I’m here on planet earth and look to be here for the foreseeable future, it’s in my best interest to have faith that there are good people and things in the world, and that things do sometimes get better.

I started to look for my connection between our turbulent times and resurgence in faith. The connection I found was my testimony, particularly how I met my wife. People tell me it’s a beautiful story, but what makes it beautiful to me is not how romantic it may sound, but that it reinforces my belief that prayer works. If you really want something in this life, you should ask, whether it’s catching your train when you’re already late, or a cure for a chronic disease. The only questions are, what you ask for, and from whom.

Remembering the Lessons of 9/11

2006-09-11T20:19:00.000-04:00

It's been five years and I haven't forgotten. I still have the MTA pass and receipt from when I took the subway from the World Trade Center on September 8, 2001. I checked out of the Marriott World Trade Center on September 9, 2001 and will remember that weekend as one of the best ever in New York.

Looking back now, I have done all the things I promised to do, like stomping out negativity when it attempts to encroach on my well being. I'm now a father and husband. I am more intimate with Boston than ever.

This year, I wasn't interested in re-living anything. For the first time, I wanted to read stories of how people hand transfored their lives since then. It was refreshing. Some of the key things I gleaned:

1) Count everyday as a blessing

2) If there anything you want to do in this life, get on it, no matter how lofty

3) Work on global goodwill

My faith is stonger than it was five years ago. I still ask God why, why I ended up
with a piece of the World Trade Center and its history? I thank him for the heads-up,
and pray for those left in the wake of the tragedy.

Revelations

2006-09-04T22:38:00.000-04:00

It started off as a psalm to my daughter. However, Psalm 38, it turned out, was really for me. That night as I slept, I found myself in the realm between sleeping and waking. The realm where one is aware and can control one’s spirit (i.e. out of body experience). I will my spirit to move to test if I was truly in that realm. Once I was sure, I decide as I always do, to stop playing with my spirit before I scared myself to much.

Suddenly, I felt a great evil spirit around me. Then I felt that evil spirit suffocating me. It took the form of the silhouette of someone very dear to me. However, I was not deceived and the façade soon shattered. I tried to escape its grip with my own ability, but I could not. Finally, as I realized my efforts were in vain, I began praying to the Lord, thanking him for his revelations, and asking him to forgive any trespasses I may have been guilty of.

As I prayed, the darkness of the evil spirit began to fade and I began to regain my breath. I then slipped into a long dream. I was in the city of Salvador, Bahia in Brazil (salvador is Portuguese for "savior") and I was at a party with family and friends. However, there was a lot of turmoil at the party, so I left to wander the city to clear my head.

On my way, I met a guide who took me to a part of Salvador I had never been to in real life (not as it was represented anyway); a church at the top of a great hill. Scores of locals and visitors from a dozen countries strolled through the square in front of the church, which was lined with colorful streamers and banners as if for a festival.

Suddenly the church bells tolled, and everyone stopped where they were and began kneeling or making the sign of the cross and praising God. In confusion, I asked my guide what was going on. He started to tell me that it was a time in honor of the Lord to give thanks for his revelation of…and then all I could hear were the church bells. I instantly understood, and got down on my knees and began praising God.

Help

2006-08-25T11:50:00.000-04:00

The lasts two weeks since my daughter has been born, I have received more help on more levels than I know what to do with some days. Some help has been needed, other help prayed for, and still some help volunteered.

I’ve learned help is relative. The helper has a different perspective than the helpee (to invent a word). There are issues of if the help has been asked for, if the help is the right kind of help, if the help is too little or too much. All of this takes experience, tact, and maybe the help of Miss Manners.

Too much help, especially when the help has a recognized monetary value, can become awkward for the helpee. It can become awkward for both helper and helpee if the reason or terms for the help are not verbalized and understood.

The best help comes from God because the help is right in time and exactly what one needs. For example, one morning at work, I was attempting to send a FedEx package to a customer and was unfamiliar with the process within the company as it had recently changed and I had never utilize the service. After searching on the company intranet site and through all my e-mails for instructions, and finding no FedEx waybill in our mailing area, I became frustrated and thought, Lord…sort this out.

Less than a minute later a colleague came by, seemingly with no destination in mind, and I greeted him. He offered me congrats on my daughter’s birth and I asked him how his project load was. Like a bolt of lightning it hit me: this colleague used to work in the mailroom and was the perfect person that could tell me exactly what I needed to know. Not only did he happily tell me what I needed to do, he got me the new company waybill and told me how I needed to fill it out and who needed to authorize my overnight shipment with their signature.

Moments after my colleague left, and I continued to fill the waybill. The colleague who could authorize my shipment walked out of the office right across the corridor from mine. Unbelievable, I praised, as I excitedly called him over. He graciously signed the waybill and I sent my shipment out. I thanked him, and then I thank HIM for sending help right in time.

Through the Looking Glass

2006-08-15T21:39:00.000-04:00

Everyone said, “once you have a kid, your life will never be the same,” or some variation thereof. Of course they’re right. However, it’s an understatement if not a misnomer. Yes, my life is different, and I do feel different. However more accurately, I feel as if I’m in an alternate version of my previous reality.

I still live in the same place, but the furniture is arranged quite differently. I still sleep, but in a different bed, at different times, for different periods of times. I still eat, but I eat smaller quantities, and simpler meals, within shorter timeframes. I also drink much more water than I used to. I still wear earplugs, expect in one ear now so I can hear the baby. I also watch much, much less television than I did, which wasn’t much in the first place.

I’ve been fortunately that I have enough of life behind me that I feel I’ve arrived right on time to parenthood. And oh…between you
and me, although I sleep less, I sleep better.

Allowing Yourself To Be Led.

2006-08-04T11:18:00.000-04:00

In American society, allowing one to be led instead of leading tends to be viewed as negative. At times, it is. However, there are times where the next step on one’s path in life requires allowing oneself to be led.

We all have our lists of what we’d like to accomplish in life, whether written or just in the ether of our minds. Our saving grace is that most people I’ve talked to, if not all (in my age group) are still working on their list. It’s part of what give us momentum. As it should be I suppose.

I used to think that once I had completed my written list that I was done with the driving and striving and could finally slow down and bask in the afterglow. Then, of course I could start worrying about what to do with the rest of my life.

After just about completing my list (I’ve got one more item to check off in the next week or so), and the time it has taken to completed the last item on it, I’ve come to realize that 1) there are two classifications of lists, and 2) Your life is the journey to fulfill your lists, whether or not you complete them. 3) Everybody has two lists, but not everyone is aware that he or she does.

There is a worldly list, and a spiritual list. The worldly list consists of things you can achieve yourself or through your solitary effort and of things which you are the single or main beneficiary. The spiritual list consists of things you can’t achieve by yourself or through your solitary efforts and of things of which you are not the beneficiary or main beneficiary.

These two lists apply regardless of your religious beliefs. If it helps you can substitute “worldly” with tangible, and "spiritual" with intangible.

For clear examples some things on my worldly list were getting a motorcycle, living in Florida, and being a parent. Examples on my spiritual list: finding a wife and Revitalizing Nigeria.

Now to be clear, one list isn’t necessary better than the other. In fact, I would say a worldly list is important in developing or realizing a spiritual list. There are also list item that can be argued for belonging to either worldly or spiritual list. In the end, I believe long term fulfillment in life comes from developing a worldly list and being led to realize a spiritual list.

888-DIAPERS

2006-07-29T09:15:00.000-04:00

No this isn't a toll-free number you call about diapers. It was the number of newborn diapers my wife and I were blessed with. You see at our last childbirth class our instructor told us that we would no longer be meeting in our regular building because it would be demolished and rebuilt. Because of this, she advised up to take as many baby samplers and expectant parent kits as we want as she would not have space of it in her new office in the new location.

So, at the end of class, most couple grabbed maybe three to ten packs. The instructor was surprised, as there had been no ambiguity in her "please take it all." Finally, ourselves and another couple were the last to leave as we were apparently familiar with the cost of baby bottles, baby laundry detergent, and most importantly diapers. We all started filling BOXES.

Well, like the lepers in 2 Kings 7:8 that came upon the treasure of the Aramean camp, we found that there were more diapers than we could possibly carry and had to return to get the rest. By the time we were done, we ended of with 888 diapers! Praise the Lord.

I Had A Close Call Yesterday, Jah Put An Angel Over Me

2006-07-21T22:55:00.000-04:00

About a week ago my wife and I, plus my cousin from Brazil, were on our way to our childbirth class. Suddenly the car ahead of me, a BMW, screeched to a halt and then crashed into the car ahead of it. With a controlled reaction, giving me more time than I needed, I slowly applied the brake until my car came to a crawl. On instinct I looked in my rear mirror and could see the car behind me hurtling toward us. Instantly, I released my break just enough for my car to roll forward and give the car behind me time to stop.

As I waited for my heartbeat to slow down, I realized that three cars were involved in the accident ahead of us. Also, it occured to me that I had passed the street I should have turned on. If I had been going where I should have been, I wouldn't even had seen the accident. But, if not for the accident, I would have not realized I had missed my turn until much later.

The Beautiful Game

2006-07-06T20:16:00.000-04:00

The month-ending July 9th, this Sunday, will end what I can only describe as a vacation, in-spite of having to work extra hours, becoming a father in six weeks, and taking part-time care of my mother and sister, post kidney transplant.

The 2006 World Cup has been a gift from God. It has helped lift my morale and forced me to relax. Regardless of how bad my workday has gone, or the lack of sleep, or the plethora of worry about my sister’s and mother’s recoveries, I know that watching the up coming match will cool whatever the summer heat has brought.

Even in Cote d’Ivoire, the warring factions pressed paused if only to revel in the possibility of their national team advancing to the Round-of-16.

I have been filled with a passion and excitement that persist through the hard couple of past weeks. Watching Zidane, Ronaldinho, Figo, and the rest remind us what is so beautiful not only about football, but life: the ability to universally defy the ordinary.

Happy Farther’s Day Uncle

2006-06-25T07:46:00.000-04:00

Saturday before last was my wife’s surprise baby shower. It also happened to be Father’s Day but I had been so busy with subterfuge in keeping the surprise in surprise baby shower that I had forgotten.

During the Jack and Jill event (that means boys can come too, as my niece would say), I receive a large (11” x 17”), homemade card from my niece that read “Happy Farther’s Day Uncle, Number 1 Uncle/Farther.” It had a yellow background with black diagonal stripe, with a large “F” on the bottom, and a caricature of myself at the top-left.

When I reach out to grab it, my niece told me she had to read it first. Quite nervously she began as a room of about twenty listened on:

Thank you Uncle

For coming to my open house…letting me sleep over…caring for me…helping me when I need it...taking me out for breakfast…holding me…carrying…taking me places when mommy can’t...inviting [my friend] to your baby shower…teaching me to clean…coming to my sixth birthday…for my first dollar on my birthday…taking me to the beach…being funny…letting my use your computer…thinking I can do it when I say, “I can’t”…making aunty my aunt…believing in me…leaving your love with me...being with me…caring for me…taking me to the museum…teaching me…putting me to sleep…helping me with my shoe laces…thank you for always helping me.

The room was stunned. Not only because this particular niece has written the card herself, but the things she was thanking me for spanned at least three years. Of course my wife was bawling her eyes out (hormones nonewithstanding).

As I went back in my minds eye and looked back over the last twelve years of being a surrogate dad to my nieces, I realized in spite of my reservation about how kids are faring in today’s world we parents and surrogates must continue fighting in the name of love for all children. Children notice and it does make a difference.

Bless Those Who Piss You Off

2006-06-17T11:10:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know. The scripture in the book of Romans actually reads, "Bless those who curse you." However, we all know it could also mean, bless those who piss you off. A member of my Florida bible study group, who I'll call M, used to testify about how she would always pray for her boss inspite of his abrasive and cantankerous behaviour.

While M and her boss would have it out, at the end of the day, when he did show restraint M colleagues would thank her for having prayed.

I've recently learned through personal experience, that we can change the behavior of people who piss off us, by blessing them. Those people won't or may never be any more pleasant that before. However, you will find that you can deal with them better and that they might even apologize for their behavior and give a gift of appreciation. Try it and see.

Thirty Years to Life

2006-06-09T20:45:00.000-04:00

I was on the way to work thinking that I had about thirty year of 9-to-5-ing left if I continued on my current path. Nothing wrong with the track per-se, but I am at what I feel is the zenith. In plain English, I have the perfect 9-to-5. The job is perfect, the job title, the company, the location, and the commute. Everything is perfect, for a 9-to-5. However, it occurred to me as it has in the last couple of weeks than I was ready for more. Ready to be on the other side of the desk. I’ll get to that another day perhaps.

When I got to my connecting station a guy about my age in a suit and tie suddenly struck up a conversation with, you mean thirty more years of this @#$#?

I said, “huh?” just to make sure he hadn’t been reading my mind, or I his.

Thirty more years for shuffling to drudgery, he continued.

“I hear ya,” I told him. He then asked me what I thought about his comment. I told him humorously (a la Beatles) that maybe that (working for the next thirty years) was what happens while you’re making other plans.

He then asked me where I worked, and vice-versa. I had heard of his company and told him I knew a few people who worked there years back.

He replied, “if they don’t work there anymore, I can understand why.” As we parted for different trains he seemed to cheer up. So did I.

If we both, God willing, have thirty years to life, we can spend it making plans. Plans to live with more meaning. Plans to experience more passion. Plans to love and be loved. Plans to help. Plans to heal. Plans to forgive. Plans to repent. Plans to be better people, so that regardless of how those years turn out, we know we had a life of our choosing.

When You're Sick

2006-06-03T21:42:00.000-04:00

I've always felt that when I got sick it was for a reason. The reason I usually muse is that God wants to have a special conversation with me, and that I will be sick as long as it takes his message to get across.

So, yeah, I'm sick. I fought it for a while, but finally yesterday afternoon I bit the bullet. I was forced to truly relax, and get rest. Relaxing meant letting my wife "mother" me. It also gave me a feel of what she's been going through being pregnant. Not that I know what it feels like to be pregnant, but I know how it feel to feel like crap longer than one would like.

I went to bed about 11:30 p.m. and didn't get up until 12:00 p.m. The last time I slept like that, I had influenza.

I made a promise to myself that I would have more patience with the misses, and emphathize with what she's going through.

Time for Play at Park Street

2006-05-26T17:56:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while God has to intervene to insure I take a break. A break from my thinking, number crunching, reading, reading, and reading to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

This break was at Park Street earlier this week. I was taking a connecting train at Park Street station reading one of my non-fiction tomes as a source of motivation and inspiration. A sparse collection of commuters waited on the outbound platforms as we had all just missed the last train by a hair.

I lifted my head to notice a well-dressed, bespectacled man in his sixties with a guitar. He seemed out of place. Like he should have been the head of a hacienda in peru or something. Other commuters began to notice as well. This wasn't the typical "artiste."

His warm smile and small stature made him look (behind his microphone) like he was about to begin a spelling bee championship. He carefully brought his fingers to his guitar and paused right before his large fingers touched them, as if to warn the strings of what was about to come.

As the first cords echoed against the subway walls like a nostalgic love story he had more of my attention and more than a few commuters'. When his seasoned alto voice accompanied his playing, more heads turned to watch and I found I just couldn't get back into my book. I was hooked. Soon, as the platform began to fill, more heads turned toward this grandfather-figure as he delved into his ballad ..mi entrega....

Soon a burly white guy in his early forties put a few coins in the guitarista's case. Then a young man puts in some bills. Then a woman and her young daughter. And
another, and another. I wish I could have put in some money. However, he was on
the middle platform and I was not. Funny enough, my wallet was empty anyway.
I wanted a CD. Arrgh. I couldn't help but smile as the old man played, and soon about sixty commuters were smiling or/and staring in awe as he belted out his song. It was like falling in love for the first time.

Finally, at the end of the cresendo of his song, he received a resounding applause.

Twenty years taking the Red Line, and I've never seen or heard an ovation like that.

Back to Basics

2006-05-19T22:40:00.000-04:00

The week has been quite interesting. I find myself going back to basics in a few important ways. I have re-dedicated myself to my writing in a way I haven't been able to in a couple of years. I'll be starting a new novel shortly, the pre-thinking just about done as well as the outlining.

Also I have decide to re-immerse myself in the world of motorcycling, one of my passions, after loss of my last motorcyle in the Fall of 2004.

Next, I decided to listen to some of the first and favorite samba songs I heard, and they took my back to some beautiful memories.

Most important though is that I'm pretening to be married to my wife for the first time. Doing some of the things that I haven't done is a while like let her win and working on patience. It has all made me feel younger and fully of a playfullness I have not felt in a while. I'm by no means old, but sometime with the day-to-day of work and family we can fall into a rut of routine. Things can feel stale and stagnant.

Thank the Lord for feeling like 13 again!

Rediscovering The Passion

2006-05-11T22:41:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know Easter has past. However, passion is still relevant. In fact, I believe a life with out passion can't be much of a life. Granted there are many passions that manifest themselves in different ways. However, the core of any passion is to help you discover (or rediscover) who you are.

This is what keeps you young in spirit. Jesus would not have fully discovered himself had it not been for the Passion. In the same sense, until we experience our passion, life may seem rote or without direction. Most often we either lose our passion or are forced (or feel forced) to put it away or ignore its existence. However, that is usually to our determent and robs us of life.

People of the Book

2006-05-02T21:32:00.000-04:00

On a recent trip to the library I picked up What Everyone Needs To Know About Islam, by John L. Esposito. It was one of the featured books in the lobby of the main branch of Boston Public Library. A year ago I would have passed by it. However, since returning back to Boston a year ago from Florida, and with recent boil of affairs in the Middle East, I felt it was important to re-educate myself in Islam.

Re-educated, because unlike most Americans I've lived in a country (Nigeria) that has a significant Muslim population (ie. everyone got Muslim holidays off). I have relatives and friends I grew up with that are Muslim. I remember vividly being awoken to the sound of Allahu Akbar! (God is the most great!) at daybreak, right before my mother would come to my room to wake me up for school.

I have a respect for Islam and Muslim for the simplest of reasons. I was exposed to them day-in-day-out at such a young age in a way that I took for granted, therefore I accepted it as normal. Although my immediate family was Christian it was understood that Islam and Christianity co-existed 99% of the time, amicably.

As I read this book, I realize I have been in the United States so long, I have forgotten some of the customs and holidays. However, I find I have a deeper appreciation, even as a Christian, for Islam as I am learning that there are more similarities with Christianity than I knew. Unfortunately, the combination of Sept. 11 and the behavior of extremists have tarnished Islam in the American public view for the worse.

The most important thing I've learned from reading this book so far is that Muslims per the Quran regard Jews and Christians as "people of The Book," that is they regards them as children of Abraham like themselves.

This helps to explains why from the time of Muhammed through my childhood in Nigeria and beyond why Muslims have been able to live together with Christians or Jews. While this is an oversimplification, it's clear that problem of course is what happens at the exteremes of any religion and who those extremists can sway.

Working for God

2006-04-24T07:41:00.000-04:00

I was just watching (half-watching really) a show called "God or The Girl," a reality show about young Christian men debating joining the priesthood or not. One of the young men, age 21, decided he was going to go to seminary and continue working for God. I just loved that phrase "Working for God." I've always wanted to run my own company or at least be a free agent, but now I really enjoy working for God. I find that there is more fulfillment in that.

Now God’s company has a position for everyone hired. Imaging going to an interview where you’re hired just for being you and agreeing the Boss has a son and agreeing that He’s who He says He is?

Think about it. Everyone knows your Boss, and his authority is questioned only by the foolish (in my experience). He's really forgiving (i.e. it takes a lot for you to get fired, because if God fires you, you're screwed).

It also simplifies my life. I just ask myself, is what I'm doing what my boss (God) hired me to do (purpose)? If not, I drop it and refocus. It takes discipline though.

The pay is also pretty good. You pretty much get what you ask for, if the Boss approves it. And He encourages those who work for Him to ask. The benefits are great too, including retirement in eternity.

The Third Day

2006-04-17T15:42:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I celebrated Easter in a manner which I have not in a very long time. I spent Easter at my sisters’ church for the first time since Easter 1994 when I decided to no longer attend church because I felt the message was more about the Law than being released from the cursed of it.

I felt a bit like the prodigal son returning to a congregation of which many of the members I knew, but with a sense of the sweetness that is sung of in Amazing Grace. I was closer to the Lord than I had ever been, and my belief was greater than it had ever been.

Back in 1994 I knew the Lord, but I was not Born Again. I had experienced some of His awesome power but I was still searching for a truth that cannot be found (at least for me) in any church building.

In 2003, while living in South Florida, I returned physically, emotionally, and spiritually to Church, and in 2004 I was baptized (immersion) in front of my sister, nieces, and the congregation. Although, I had been christened in Nigerian at the age of 9, I was really riding on my parents’ belief and not my own.

That truth is that you can not be Born Again until you die to your past, and are resurrected beyond what you once were. No one can drag you to that. You must be called, and the calling must so compel you that you seek it out with a passion unparallel in any other area of your life.

When that happens, no one who knows you will have to ask you if you are saved, and how you know you are saved.

Talking With God At 4:00 a.m.

2006-04-10T04:23:00.000-04:00

Everyonce in a while, I'm so rested (NOT), I find myself wide awake at 3-something in the morning unable to go back to sleep. This morning was one of those mornings. Part of the problem for me is a combination of being a light sleeper and being excited about all the wonderful things God is doing in my life right now.

My mind was occupied with how well my collaboration with some old grade school and high school friends had gone during our work on our 48-Hour Film Festival submission, this past weekend. After going on in my mind about the things we could have done better, I decided to thank God for what had gone not only right, but well.

Next, I thanked God for all the creative gifts he has given me. Also, I thanked God for all His provision, including my wife, our child on the way, our home, and daily bread.

Then I thanked God for giving me everything I ever asked for and which He provided in one way or another. I have gotten houses, cars, jobs, money, healings, and relationships beyond my expectations. God's approval rating with me is extremely high.

I spoke to God some more and told Him that since he's given me everything I've asked for in this life, I really wanted to continue to re-focus on asking for things for the benefit of others. I acknowledged that while there are some material and things that I would still like for myself and my family, those things were really just gravy compared to the steak I want for those in need. Those who I could serve with my talents. Situations in the world that required prayer. I asked Him to use me for those things.

Now, I don't mind so much being up and having my stomach growl. I'm spending my time thanking God, because I hunger for Him. Thank you Lord.

Praying for Little Things

2006-04-02T21:10:00.000-04:00

I am always amazed about the power of prayer despite the number of my prayers that have been answered. What amazes me even more are the prayers for the little things that I've needed.

For example, last Friday I opted to join my colleagues for an improptu meeting and miss my usual commuter train. Before leaving for the meeting, I promised my wife I would be on the next train because I would only be at the meeting briefly.

Well, I ended up staying ten minutes longer than I should have. I ran furiously to the subway in hopes of making the right subway train to my commuter train station. I had to let two trains by, until my train came by.

From my estimation, I would just miss my train. I feverishly checked my wireless phone clock with each intermediate stop. Finally, with two stops to go until mine, it didn't look good.

I decided to pray. I really didn't want to disappoint my wife, especially since I would already be late home even if I CAUGHT this train. After the brief prayer, I let go, and let God.

When I got to my stop I ran out, glanced at the station clock as I whizzed by. It turns out my clock was four minutes fast. I made my train with minutes to spare.

Where Have All The Brothers Gone?

2006-03-25T09:34:00.000-05:00

Now that I am back in Boston, I see the glaring social differences from my life in South Florida. One difference in particular is the lack of non-white minorities in the corporate arena. Specifically, brown men. Clearly, part of the reason is that there are more brown males per-capital in Broward Country (including Fort Lauderdale) than Suffolk County (including Boston).

Also, the cost of living is much higher in Boston than in Fort Lauderdale. In addition, there is much more basic service sector employment down in Fort Lauderdale than Boston.

Still, it's sad not to see as many brown faces as I used to in the work place in Florida. I think the result is that non-minorities are more comfortable in Fort Lauderdale than they are in Boston with minorities because they interact with them more often in their daily lives. There is nowhere for the non-minority to hide. Because of their increased exposure, more tolerace and acceptance is possible.

I have hope for Boston. With the Latin and Black populations increasing at the largest rates, soon non-minority Bostonian will have nowhere to hide.

Filling The Gap

2006-03-17T08:56:00.000-05:00

I was on the train earlier this week and feeling a bit of despair over the goodness of my fellow American residents. Not inherent goodness, but the simpler stuff. Random acts of kindness!!! During this period of lent, both my pastor entreated their congregations to pray during the time for what they really wanted from Jesus.

After some thought and prayer I decided that what I wanted from Jesus was a ray of hope about the goodness of man. Hope as in Ezekiel for (22:30) someone to “stand in...the gap on behalf of the land.”

Later that night my wife and I were at Dunkin Donuts waiting on some relatives to arrive. We just planned to sit, however my wife decided she wanted some munchkins, just a couple. She was about the pay the cashier when he promptly bagged the munchkins, smiled, and told her to just take them. When my cousin-in-law arrived about ten minutes later, he did the same thing.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen such a random act of kindness. As I write this, I realized that such acts reside in each of us, waiting to come out. It’s doesn’t take money, and it doesn’t take fame. It’s just take faith and courage that each of us can be part of those who will stand in the gap.

Walking The Line

2006-03-09T13:31:00.000-05:00

I don’t go to the movies as much as I used to or would like to. In general ,the return on investment is not as good as it used to be. Fortunately for Hollywood, my wife is an avid movie lover and has rekindled my love for small and independent theaters. My wife, being a Reese Witherspoon, and myself a long time Joaquim Phoenix fan, Walk The Line was an easy choice. Plus, the closest theater was the cheapest.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. After all, despite my motley musical taste, I could only name one Johnny Cash song off the top of my head. Similar to Ray Charles, Cash had lost a brother in his youth, and then struggled with internal and external demons as he rose to fame.

After seeing the movie, I came to appreciate the title.Ultimately, we all have to walk the line. We all have to stick to the path God put us on regardless of the things of this world that will try to misdirect us. The good news is that if we are faithful to that line, God will provide us a way to stay on the line, and even better, provide us a way back to the line if we should veer off it.

Running Your Own Race

2006-03-02T15:44:00.000-05:00

Working in technology has its advantages. One has access and information that keeps one informed on the latest trends and tools to “make life easier”. It also has its drawbacks. There’s always someone who has a newer gadget, cooler website, or just plain better information than you do.

Too much of this indulgence can cause one to become discouraged, especially when time is such a premium as one ages. It’s easier to tell yourself, well why bother doing “X” if so-and-so has a better “X”. This I believe is a side-effect of capitalism. Why have a mediocre “X”, when you can have a cooler “X” for a little more, or better yet, the same price. It makes sense.

Then while listening to a podcast sermon, I was reminded that we each have our calling according to who we are, and how God has blessed us. In other words, there are things that only you can do because you are meant to do those things. Furthermore there are some things can you can only do in tandem with others.

It is easy to be envious of someone who is where we want to be, or who has achieved what we are struggling to (keeping up with the Joneses, if you will). In the end, we will never have time to do all the things we want to do, to the extend we want to do those things.

What I find that helps, is to do what we are called to do, to the level of ability we have to do it, and to the extent that we can, every day.

My Second Gray Hair, Thank God

2006-02-23T23:00:00.000-05:00

About a week ago I discovered my second gray hair. It’s a nice, long and obvious one, as firsts are. It is a strong reminder that I am no longer growing up, but growing old, and will eventually pass into decay.

With Prayer and Petition.

2006-02-16T16:29:00.000-05:00

Today’s title came to mind a few days back and stuck there. I had no idea in what context, but it made me smile.

You see, people tend to ask for things they want. However, how often do people ask for what they need. Furthermore, when people do ask for their wants or/and need, how often do they believe they will receive them? Babies don't seem to have this issue at all.

As we age we get used to varying levels of denial. We make ask for a raise, and we hope we get it. We ask the bank for a loan, and we hope we get it. We may even propose marriage, and we are pretty sure that the answer will be yes.

How often do we pray about these things, and give our requests to God?
How often to we ask for something and EXPECT, BELIEVE, or KNOW that we will receive it.

I once read a medical article saying that patients chances of beating certain illnesses have as much to do with their personal belief that they will get better as whatever treatment they receive.

You may or may not believe in God, but you ought to believe in something.

Twenty Children Cannot Play for Twenty Years.

2006-02-09T23:30:00.000-05:00

I was going through some old picture of my mothers of my cousins and myself and I was reminded of one of her perennial saying. “Twenty Children Cannot Play for Twenty Years. I was never sure what she meant until I look through all of her pictures. Most of them were dated 1985, 1986, or 1987. The snapshots were of smooth faces, bright eyes, and dated hairstyle fashions.

As I moved to my pictures that included 2000 and beyond I could see the difference in smiles, or lack thereof, spreading faces with facial hair, longer waistlines, shorter hair, and longer skirts. A lot of our youth and black hair had given way to more serious affairs over the last twenty years, such as jobs, mortgages, marriages, wives, separations, and kids.

The key thing that had changed was our smiles. There were far less of them. The wear and tear of life had laid into each of us in one way or another, and to one extent or another. Life had less weight to it then. Things were simpler. We all had less experience back then, but the problems of life were far less complicated.

Back then we were all on the same level in life. We were all still in high school. The world had yet to hold us accountable in the way it does now as men.

Play time, as we knew it is long over. Now, we have to make a point to remember to play, and more importantly, play with one another. Play in such a way to bring some of those smiles from the 80s back.

What To Do For Valentine’s Day?

2006-02-02T10:11:00.000-05:00

It’s funny that Valentine’s Day is a different date in at least two other countries I know of. As I found out from my wife, Valentine’s Day is an even bigger deal in Nigeria than here in the United States. It seems I have my work cut out for me.

However, I’m loathe to give retailers more money for yet another pseudo-holiday. After all no one had to shell out oodles of cash on Martin Luther King, Jr.’s holiday, and that I would be happy to do.

My beef with the way Valetine’s Day is celebrated (here anyway) is that it has the danger of becoming a barometer for the relationship that it’s celebrating, if the givers aren’t careful. Especially, when recipient begin to compare gifts with one another. “Wow! You got three diamond rings AND a trip to France? I just got a rose and candy.”

With all that said, I have it in mind that it is my responsibility to know what pleases my lady (or at least do the research) and vice-versa. A ton of money doesn’t have to be spent. One can really be creative to give a gift that is priceless, just as love is.

In God We Trust?

2006-01-26T09:06:00.000-05:00

I was a church marriage workshop with my wife earlier this week, and the subject was managing finances. This included, determining spending (and saving) styles, creating a budget, and tithing (a.k.a. God’s cut). Yes, those first fruits. That first ten percent of one’s income

When the bishop began the budget breakdown. We all agreed that the first fruits should be tithes. However, someone (of course) brought up the fact that Uncle Sam gets its share (if you are an employee) before you see any of it. The reasoning of the individual was that the ten percent would come after taxes.

It seemed a logical premise to me at the time. Yesterday after listening to a podcast sermon from another church a visit periodically, I got the message. The pastor put it plain. One’s tithes come out of gross income. Simple.

I thought about it all last night and this morning. Then I began to think about scripture. Specifically, when Jesus is asked about taxes. Give what is God’s to God, and what is Caesar’s to Caesar. After which, I remembered that in biblical times there was no Internal Revenue Service. There were no paychecks from which taxes where deducted. Tax collectors came a calling to get the government’s share (think: someone who’s self-employed). So taxes were paid after income was earned and collected by the individual.

With this insight I realized I had been helping Uncle Sam short-change God, by tithing out of net income. So starting Sunday, I will repent and truly give that which is God’s to God.

Lessons in World Peace from Boston Parking

2006-01-19T22:37:00.000-05:00

I walked out into the parking lot of our apartment complex to find a note on my windshield. I was told that the spot I was in was for apartment 2, and "PLEASE DO NOT PARK HERE." The note did say please.

Now a little backstory. When we moved in the weekend before, my wife in her infinite wisdom had suggested that there might be assigned parking because of the numbers stenciled on some of the spaces. Being the Boston native, I explained to her that the numbers were mostly faded so it was most likely first-come-first-serve.

You can imagine my chagrin when I had to begin to entertain the notion that my wife may have been correct. The Bostonian in me suddenly surged, and I thought to myself, how dear he (women don’t leave such notes). Besides, the number stenciled on the space read “22” not “2"! Boy, I’ll… Then it hit me. Boston is the one place you DO NOT want to get in to a parking duel with your neighbor. Especially if you are the newest arrival on the block.

Suddenly, the rational Christian in me came on the scene. I decided that it would be easier to figure out which spot corresponded with my apartment than to get into a spitting contest with someone I didn’t even know.

I spent the next five minutes canvassing the parking lot to find a motley of partially to completely faded numbers along the spaces. Finally, I decided that maybe there was a wacky system (where apartement 2 gets space 22) that I simply wasn’t privy to. After deciding not to be late to work, I got in my car and decide I would call the management company and ASK (as my wife had suggested) if we had an assigned parking space.

After nine, I called the management company from my office. I was 90% expecting them to laugh at me when I asked if there were “assigned spaces,” replying with an “Of course not Mr. Oluwole, who told you that. Just park anywhere.”

Au contraire! The response of the assistant who answered the phone was a firm, “yes, there are.” I could see crow eating in my future. However, it got better. When she asked for our apartment number, and I gave it, she told me our parking spot was number 20. We don’t live in apartment 20!

It was nice to know I was no longer crazy and would avoid fistcuffs with my neighbor. I could now understand how a lot of the relational problems in the world escalate, but also, how they can be defused as well.

Epilogue: On the way out to have dinner with some friends, my wife spied the neigbhoor who had written the note. She was an elderly woman. Boy, did I feel like a heel. On her suggestion, I introduced myself and apologized for taking her space, explaining my new neigbhor status. She was taken so unaware she stuttered, smiled and then introduced herself.

A Time for Anything.

2006-01-10T21:30:00.000-05:00

The book of Ecclesiastes (NIV, 3:1) says “there is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.” If that is true, which I believe it to be, then the following must also be true. There is a time for anything under heaven.

In the last month or so, I have been formally introduced to the world of Flash animation: a multimedia development tool that enables Web animation, video streaming, and other “cool” stuff.

This is very new school for me, that is, on the cutting-edge of Web development. My last Web site was created (originally) in 2000. It wasn’t until I began working with my colleagues and pursuing their Websites did I realize that my site was lost in time design-wise.

It wasn’t the normal site-envy all techies succumb to in one from or another, but my Website was really dated. Most things on it were static (no moving anything with the exception of the glowing navigation bar). Franklin it looked very amateurish.

I just had never taken the really time to decide on what I wanted my Website to reflect visual. I was primarily concerned with the content. I’m a writer, what do you want?

In the last week, I’ve had to make sure I don’t over extend myself with pet-projects. At the same time, I want to make sure that I make time for those projects that I feel could be revolutionary. Projects that will really make an impact in what I’m here to do.

We are but wisps in time, and we ought to dream anything in the tine. If we are smart enough, or better yet, blessed enough, we may make the time to pursue one of those dreams.

More Good News.

2006-01-04T22:21:00.000-05:00

It’s 2006 and I find myself not resolving anything but to be the bearer of good news; The Good News and good news in general. If you’ve watched enough news last year, or just managed to temporarily escape from your cave, you may have begun to wonder if the world was on the verge of ending. Between the Tsunami, earthquakes, mudslides, wildfires, floods, hurricanes, and good old fashioned bombings, it would seem that we were about to go not so gently into that good night.

Did the world end? Not yet. However, I do think we as a world are in a unique period of time unlike any other in recent history, where things as we know and understand them have radically changed. There is a certain feeling in the air that we are beginning to reach the neighborhood of critical mass, where if we as humans continue to progress in our current direction, things will inevitably give.

This is not all about gloom and doom. After all, we are all going to be dead 150 years from now barring some miracle. We have all seen, heard, or known death in one form or another, so we ought to accept endings as a reality of life.

The good news is that with endings are beginnings. The war must eventually end and give way to peace of some sort. The body though without a medicinal cure eventually defeats the common cold. And the chrysalis becomes the butterfly. It is all a matter of what you believe and how that belief sustains you in the inevitability of the end in whatever forms it may come. For no matter what you believe you must acknowledge a beginning.

Out With The Old.

2005-12-29T23:50:00.000-05:00

It’s always when we get to the end of the year we tend to reflect on it. We wonder what went right, what went wrong, and what went “huh?”. It seems that for me and a lot of friends and family, 2005 was particularly harsher that we expected.

For the first time, I’m finding myself thanking God the year is over in. For once, Saturday just won’t be the end week, or month, it’ll be the end of the year. I get to start fresh on Sunday with God.

It also a time I think about what I need and want to take on, and what I need or want to let go of. I’ve discovered that time speeds up as one ages, so the same things essentially take longer to do (or more accurately, you don’t do them so fast as you used to). So time is the bandit in the night, and priorities must be adjusted accordingly.

For me, it’s going to be a lot less writing, but a lot more wifing (that's the noun wife, which I made a verb). I’m also going to give up a “me” project in favor for an “us” project, as I feel that I would like to do more collaborative work.

Some of this is sad, but the good news is that if I do it right. I will be giving up something that’s primarily for me and replacing it with something a lot of people can share.

Boasting About Tomorrow.

2005-12-23T22:27:00.000-05:00

Each year, to usher in the New Year, I make it a point to do something different from the year before, and something I have never done before. One year, it was Costa Rica. Another year, it was watchnight service at church. Then there was the year I just decided to walk three miles to a friend’s house for a New Year’s Day luncheon.

Last year, while still in Florida, I planned that I would spend New Year’s by myself with a bottle of champagne on Miami Beach watching the stars. I had it all planned out weeks before. I had the champagne in the fridge, the champagne glass at the ready, and the beach towel already in the car. I had told all my friends not to expect me at the typical New Year’s Eve club events because I HAD PLANS.

On December 30, I caught a flu the likes of which I had never experienced. On December 31, one of my managers insisted I leave work early because I sounded like Doc Holiday with my coughing and sneezing.

By the time I got home, after making a pitstop at the store for some medicine, I had a fever and was absolutely exhausted. I passed out in bed and remained there for hours.

My saving grace was that a friend of a friend who I had extended an invitation to stay for the holidays. She checked in on me and made sure I had something to eat. She also checked my mail and took calls. I was that incoherent.

As I lay in bed that night, I though of the humor of it all. I watched as the clock came, said “hi” to midnight, and kept going into 2005. The car stayed parked and the champagne stayed chilled in the fridge. I couldn’t have gotten out of my house under my own power if it had been burning. My fantasies of Miami Beach drinking Asti remained just that.

As I walked to work this morning, I thought what a tough year 2005 had been for me and just about everyone I know, and about 2006 and all it held in store. I remembered where I was almost a year ago, dreaming of South Beach. I have my plans and aspirations for 2006 to be sure, but I’ll check with God first.

Cup of the World.

2005-12-19T20:20:00.000-05:00

Last week the final team group for the FIFA 2006 World Cup, taking place in Germany,
were announced last week. Amongst the teams from every corner of the globe that were
blessed to be amonsgt the 32 teams, five were African.

There is no other sports event on the planet that give me hope of global peace and unity that the FIFA World Cup. It is always such a wonderful feeling when the one-in-four-years event rolls around again. It is the only sporting event final that the legitimately has the word World in it.

It’s the only event I can think of that is truly democratic. The country with the most resources doesn’t always win or come second place.

More than that it they time I really see nations coming together. Their differences put aside (albeit temporarily) and all scores are settled on the field and everyone plays by the same rules.

One of my lifelong dreams was to go to a World Cup match. I was blessed enough to have that opportunity (several times) when the World Cup was hosted by the United States in 1994. Boston was one of the host cities. I remember that for many American that were non-immigrant or who had just lived for generations in America. The idea of an event being bigger than the Super Bowl or the World Series, or even the Olympics was unheard of.

Suddenly, they were seeing neighbors they never knew they had, emerging with a motley of flags and skin tones and languages. Everyone had a team. Either the country you were originally from, or the region, had some representation in the contest. Again, I was blessed to have both Nigerian and the United States in the World Cup. And for a few intoxicating months in 1994, every Argentine, Greek, Italians, Mexican, Japanese, Arabian, Jamaica, Dutch, German and Costa Rican was my brother or sister.

My Old Coat.

2005-12-13T22:01:00.000-05:00

Today I walked home and the temperature was in the low teens. It was officially bitingly cold. My ensemble included solid boots, thermal underwear (a.k.a. long johns), an undershirt, a sweater, a windbreak, and finally my old army coat. Of course I couldn’t forget my hat and gloves.

I had to thank God, because after two years in Florida I actually found my tolerance for cold had increased. My wife has a lot to do with that. It’s harder to stay warm when it’s just you, even when it’s in the fifties.

My old coat is old because I’ve had it for close to nine years. I don’t think I’ve managed to keep anything that long. I have either donated items or worn them out.

The dark blue is no longer so dark, and reminds me a bit of myself: weathered and a bit frayed here and there, but still functional and reliable.

I thought about what if I didn’t have this coat. Frankly, it’s my only coat. I would probably freeze to death. I would be another statistic of Mister Freeze.

I thanked God for a warm loving house to go to, and a warm woman waiting. I thanked God for the privilege of getting up way too early to a job that I love, because it uses the stuff in my brain that just yearns to be used.

Other coats have come and gone. All more flashy and all more expensive. This one was earned, and I couldn’t have bought it if I wanted to. Thank God for my old coat.

Chico Is The Man!

2005-12-08T21:07:00.000-05:00

The other night I bested, with the grace of God, 17-degree Boston weather en route to pick up my car at the shop. After persuading the bus driver to drop me right at the gas station repair shop, I eagerly awaited to pick up my car that I had to wait three months to take to the shop in the first place.

I greeted the owner of Chico’s and he welcomed me warmly. When I went to the cashier to pay, I realized that I didn’t have my debit card with me. After calling the house and getting the answering machine, twice, I began to dread the walk back home, in the cold. Plus, I would have to make the frigid trip BACK to Chico’s the next day to pick up my car.

Suddenly, the owner came out and asked me what was up. Why was I still here? I told him that I forgot my debit card, so I would have to come back. He asked me where was home, and I told him it was just about a twenty minute walk away.

Without breaking stride he pulled out my key out of the repair order, handed it to me, and said it was too cold to walk tonight.

He never mentioned coming back soon or anything like that. Granted I was a customer he knew, but it was the ease by which he did what he did that lifted my soul. With all the turmoil in the world, and the hype the media adds to it. It was a blessing to experience such a random act of kindness.

Waiting for Something Big.

2005-12-05T20:19:00.000-05:00

Yesterday’s sermon was poignant enough that I am still thinking about it, more than 24 hours later with even great depth. The main point to make one dream so big that one would spend one’s whole life waiting for it.

More importantly, that big dream had to come from God, which is from someone outside and greater than oneself. So profound I thought. What could be greater than having kids? And why wasn’t that big enough? Well, kids as a dream is easy, having kids that is. Raising someone else’s is another story.

So as the sermon went one, I began to think, what was bigger than wanting to have kids as a dream that would or could possibly take my entire life. I was baffled.

Then the pastor helped by asking us to consider things the we found disturbing in life. Aha! I had a few things. However, the first was the disappearing of West Africa, particularly Nigeria as an emerging nation.

Since independence from British colonial rule 45 years ago, the economic of Nigeria has gradually wound down. Despite the best of intentions and the human capital brimming in the land, corruption and oil have been the specters the have tormented young men from my fathers generation to me own.

Now the commitment to something so big, the pastor went on to explain, would require “dying to our lesser dreams.” There is only so much time and energy in this life to do it all. The big dreams, especially those beyond ourselves, which are those so big we cannot accomplish them on our own, require the dedication of time that is our lives.

When The World Is Coming Down.

2005-12-01T21:04:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving is over and of course the Christmas hustle begins. There is some much good in world that it unfortunately only seems to see the light of day, maybe during the holiday season. I was reading in the newspaper that the reason people think the world may be going to the dogs isn’t necessary because things are so bad, everywhere, all the time. Closure to the truth is that in the world we live in good news doesn’t sells nearly as well as bad news. Conflict is the reason anything move, sparks, or titillates.

So are things really getting that bad or is the media just focusing on what gets peoples attention. Well, I know why I don’t watch as much TV or movies as I used to. It’s the same reason I abhor spam and junk mail. I no longer have the bandwidth to take in such as mass of non-essential in my life.

Of course, one man’s non-essential is another woman’s passion.

What To Do With What You Got.

2005-11-22T22:12:00.000-05:00

What would you do if I gave you a million dollars? Okay, after paying all your bills, then what? Okay, after quitting your job, then what? Okay, after travelling to every place you want to travel, then what? Okay, after buying your mom/dad/husband/wife/kids/girl/guy that _____, then what? After starting that company, then what?

This is a line of questioning I'm fond of putting to friends and colleagues. After that long list of travel spots and spending on toys, I tend to get a response like, I'd open a flower shop, or I'd bike to Florida, or I'd learn how to fly a plane, or I'd give to charity. Then, I ask, why not do that now? And then, the light blub usually goes on.

It's tempting to put off the things that really mean something to us because of money. If we are lucky enough to make tons of money, or are at least reasonable successful financially, then we usually realize that there are some really important things that money can't buy, like health, and unconditional love. It's sounds cheesy, but it true. However, if we aren't so lucky, we make do with what we got and Goeth forth.

It's a Little Bit Funny, This Feeling Inside.

2005-11-20T08:28:00.000-05:00

Whenever my older sister (the one before me) recommends a movie, it's always great. Yesterday, my wife wanted something to watch and she's a musical freak. My sister recommended Moulin Rouge, which as it turns out, my wife had been wanted to see forever.

The theme of the movie is that love conquers all, even death. In this case, an untimely death. This movie almost brought me to wet eyes (the precursor to tears). The movie ended, and I found myself wondering what my life would be like had I, say, three months to live. I've been blessed to have done 99% of everything I felt I needed to do before dying. For that one percent, I would need more time than three months. So, I decided I would try anyway, knowing that I would never see the fruits of my labor. For all I know, I could keel over in three month.

That is what faith is about, "being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Heb. 11:1, NIV).

His Joy is Going to be My Strength

2005-11-19T01:26:00.000-05:00

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would be listening to church sermons on an mp3 player, I would have laughed my ass off, and then asked...what's an mp3 player?

God bless the Internet, because I was able to download sermons from two of my churches. One I used to attend when I lived in Florida, and the other was from my current church. I was visiting yet another church last weekend hence the download. Anyway, the first sermon was on joy. I thought it was odd, because I thought I knew what joy was already. Maybe.

The sermon went on to explain that we all know what joy is when we experience it, but many of us have lost it or pursue it relentlessly only to watch it elude us again and again. Joy, the pastor said, was accepting that the Lord loves you regardless of whether of not you accomplish whatever it is you feel you need to make you happy, complete, etc. Joy comes from the Lord and when you connect with His joy you have that joy regardless of the outcome of your pursuit of happiness. In otherwords, lasting joy doesn't depend on getting that magical job (or not), it comes from knowing He loves you, He always has, and He always will.

Everybody Hates Divorce.

2005-11-17T22:02:00.000-05:00

Every once in a while (in a loooong while) I get some blast of inspiration from television. Yeah, I said it. Hear me out. I was watching Everybody Hates Chris, once of the best shows I’ve seen on T.V. in years. It’s based on the childhood of comedian Chris Rock.

This particular episode was centered on Chris’ mom’s aversion (read: shame) to using food stamps (a forms of public assistance for groceries), a necessity and reality for a lot of urban blacks in the 1980s (when the show is set).

Anyway, Chris’ dad had found $200 worth of food stamps and showed them to his wife. The idea was that they could now re-allocate grocery funds to things they often didn’t have extra money for. A family trip to the movies, a trip to the hairdressers for some major hair-do, etc.

Rather than risk being caught by her friends spending food stamps, Chris’ mom spent money allocated for the electricity bill (in addition to food) on the bulk groceries she was supposed to pay for with the food stamps.

To make matters worse, in trying to avoid being caught trying to sell the food stamps for cash, she got roped into agreeing to get her hair done. She ended up having to barter the food stamps to pay the hairdresser.

When her husband finally found out, I expected him to explode. However, in the presence of their children at the dinner table, Chris' father caught himself and then asked why she didn’t use the food stamps, and then why the hairdressers. Finally, he resigned and said, “At least you paid the light bill.” Suddenly, the power went out. Fade to black.

I learned something very important about marriage, particularly black marriage, but certainly marriage in general. When times are tough, particularly over a stretch of time, It’s important for a man to keep his temper in check, particularly around his children. It’s also important for a man not to put down his wife in front of their children. He must be always tactful, even when he may be ‘in the right.’ Especially when delivering a reprimand. It should be done as lovingly as possible. That’s something that I wish was as easy in real life as on T.V. Still, I enjoy trying, everyday.

Giving thanks.

2005-11-16T22:59:00.000-05:00

It’s not Thanksgiving for another week, but as I left work today, I just had to smile. At close to 5:30 p.m. on a Wednesday in November, in Boston, it was a balmy 64 degrees. I couldn’t believe it. It was also a blessing not only to be working again, but also doing work that I loved and was called to do. That is a rarity for a lot of people in this world.

Also, earlier in the day, I came across a few good colleagues I hadn’t seen in some time. And like Cheers, they all knew my name, and was glad I came (back).

After a nice train ride to Cambridge and a pleasant walk home in the comfortably cool night breeze, I came into the house to my smiling nieces and wife.

I have had days better than this one, and God knows, I‘ve had days worse. However, I thank God, I had today.

Black in the house of work.

2005-11-14T22:01:00.000-05:00

Today was my first day at a new job. Not suprisingly, I was the only one who looked like me. Yeah, Black. That has always been the case for me, for most (i.e. about 95%) of my career.

The next thought on my mind was whether I was the only one who looked like me on the floor. I came across two black women, easily in their thirties whose dress and demeanor reaked of professional maturity.

This eventuality is something I've accepted a part of my life in Boston: being the only black male in an entire department, floor, or building. It's nothing I fume about because I know how hard I've had to work to get to where I am today. My mother always promised me I would have to work at least three times as hard as my white rivals. I know, it has been a combination of faith, education, discipline, grace, experence, and tenacity.

My concern is for today's young black youth. Specifically, if there are some who don't care to put forth the effort to, at the very least, become proficient in math, reading, writing, and comprehension, what will become of them once life gets tougher. When high school begins and there is less hand-holding. When college begins and they discover that 25-page papers with proper grammer are the rule, not the exception. When they go on that interview and are questioned not by a relative who knows how great they are inside, not by that sympatethic teacher that watched them try and sometimes fail, but a panel of white men and women who may only evaluate what they read, see, and hear then and there. What then?

People who change your life for the better.

2005-11-13T15:41:00.000-05:00

If you live in a place long enough you run into someone you've lost. If you are lucky enough, you get to thank that person for making a difference in your life. I went into a Cambridge, Massachusetts barbershop of my youth, for only about the third time or so since I had relocated back to Cambridge.

I saw a man in the chair that, in about two seconds, I recognized as someone I had gone to the University of Masschusetts at Boston, some fourteen years earlier. His name came right back to my mind, Dave Pina. More suprisingly, he remembered my name.

We met at UMASS Boston towards the end of my freshman year, and his senior year. I was, at the time, just enjoying life. One day I was sitting in the Black Student Center with a friend who was a senior, during finals in May, when a dapper brother in a jacket and tie walked in. He looked so serious that I was compelled to come to attention from my couch lounging, as I thought he was a young professor or administrator.

He greeted us politely and asked what we were doing. We replied, nothing really. He then said he needed three volunteers to represent UMASS Boston at the Young Democrats Convention in Washington D.C. for the weekend. We told him we were free and we would be willing, but I being much younger than my friend, confessed to the dapper brother that I was completely clueless as to the world of politics, so I didn't thing I was be a good choice. He told me that the only thing I would need was a good shirt and a tie and a willingless to learn and meet people.

I was elated. I had never been to the nation's capital, and it would cost me nothing but my time. I was in. My friend was in too. So my friend said he could get one more for the desired foursome, and the next day we joined similar groups from other universities and colleges in Massachusetts on a bus ride to the nation's capital.

I was overwhelmed by how much I learned about life, government, and politics in America during that adventure to D.C. I ended up meeting Al Gore, Ron Brown, and scores of polically motivated young people. I have been enamored with government and polictics ever since, no longer content in my ignorance, knowing that despite my age, experience, and education, I had a right and duty to be part of the political process of my country. Dave Pina, thank you.

War! What is it good for?

2005-11-12T00:03:00.000-05:00

Today is Veterans Day, a day of remembrance of all those who have fought for this republic commonly known as the United States of America. Each Veterans Day, I find myself thinking back to my time in the Army Reserve and how I could have easily been one of those soldiers who said goodbye mom, and never returned. I was never near any combat. I’ve never even been stationed overseas. However, I could have been.

Back in 1990 at the start of the Gulf War, just before Desert Shield became Desert Strom, I had just completed boot camp. With days from graduation, my comrades and I wondered if we would receive orders sending us back to our respective units, in our respective home states, or if we would get revised orders sending us to Saudi Arabia.

In my mind I knew this was the reality of what I had signed up for, war. After all the training and the monthly paycheck, and the G.I. Bill benefits, and the war stories, war was the bottom line. That is what each of us were there for, the possibility and maybe eventuality of war. Whether we had accepted it or not, all this preparation was for war. I had no illusions about that reality. However, I had no clue about being in a real war. I still don’t, despite all the months of training in everything from Basic Rifle Marksmanship, to Atomic, Biological, and Chemical warfare, to Land Navigation. I suspect nothing prepares one for the reality of war. I liken it to sex. No matter how many times one has read, watched, or heard about it. Ain’t nothing like the real thing,

Oddly enough, when I returned to my home unit per my orders, I was a bit dismayed. My entire section had been mobilized for the Gulf or had a related assignment in Europe. It was just I. To this day, I still don’t know why.

After re-watching Saving Private Ryan, I realized that war could bring out the best in us, whether we are in the military or civilians at home. It often takes catastrophe to bring out compassion.

War is treated as the final word in settling conflicts. Not because it is the best way but it is what we know. It is part of our human nature to fight (or flight) when faced with imminent danger or to ultimately get our way.

To be clear, some wars are necessary and/or unavoidable. This is not to be confused with a “good war” (where the threat of an imminent conflict neutralizes it). That is the prayer with war if we must have them.

I once read that when a conflict escalates or drags on, it’s because at least one side is holding on to an irrational position. Human nature being what it is, it’s always the other guy who is the irrational one.

There Are No White-Americans in Congress.

2005-11-11T00:26:00.000-05:00

I was watching C-SPAN-2 and an on-going vote on the Senate floor, and noticed from the live feed of the deliberations that I could point out Senators Kerry and DeLay. Then I heard the speaker call out Senator Obama. I pumped my fist up for the Democratic senator from Illinois. However, when I looked out of the floor, I couldn’t find him. As a matter of fact I couldn’t find any non-white senators in the shot. Granted the shot wasn’t inclusive of every single corner of the senate hall, but I thought, wow! Isn’t the senate supposed to be representative of America?

Of course what I posit is an over-simplification of the senator election process. Each state gets two senators. Based of the demographics of the United States, most of the senators should be over 30, white and male. That's also means all the presidents have been and for the near future (i.e. through 2020) should be over 35, white and male. So essentially, the leadership of the United States is white and male. Ergo the face of America is that of a middle-aged, white male.

Then I asked my wife if there were any Whites in the Nigerian National Assembly (the Nigerian congress). She told me there weren't. I asked, not even White Nigerians? She said no. I asked my sister the same question. Her response delved a bit deeper, differentiating between being born Nigerian or being naturalized Nigerian. She felt that at the National Assembly level, like at the US President level, being a citizen by birth ought to be a requirement. Her point was that one shouldn't just be able to stroll into the country and ascend to a such a high post without some sort of civic and political tenure.

When I reflected on my conversation, I noticed something deeper. It would never occur to most Nigerians or anyone familiar with the demographics of Nigeria, to asked whether 'White Nigerians' held any high political perches of power. To them, to be Nigerian is to be black. Like water being wet, it's inherent. No one would dare dispute it, without risking ridicule or at least a quizzical reaction of some sort.

So, we know there are Whites in congress, and we also know that there are Americans in congress. But are there any White-Americans?

When is it Adultery?

2005-11-09T23:45:00.000-05:00

Now that I'm married, one of the first things I learned was that I would have to deal with the x-factor, and I don't mean the comic book. As a married Christian, I take my marital vows extremely seriously. There is no gray area. I likened it to when I would play basketball with friends as a kid in Cambridge and whomever had possession of the ball to check it (bring it into play), would say "respect the line," if the opposing player attempted to cross the baseline before the ball was brought into play. We all know there is a line, and we all know we ought to respect it. The problem is that for some, the line is gray, or worse, badly faded.

Back to the x-factor. One of the first things I was keenly aware of was to manage my past as a single man, with my present as a married man. This included discussions with my wife about ex-girlfriends or/and female friends from my past. Some married men feel that one should just avoid such disclosures because they only invite more scrutiny. Well, to paraphrase Jesus, I've learned it's best to let my 'yes' be 'yes' and my 'no' be 'no.' Now, there are some married men that feel certain things or behaviors don't really qualify as adultery (i.e. a married person in sexual relations with someone other than his or her spouse).

While those men may be correct in their own logic, the truth is that men or women (yeah, you too) who commit adultery don't just wake up one sunny day in June and hop into another bed. It is the slippery slope of temptation that does the adulterer in. It takes more than a slice at a cord to break it. However, how quickly the cord breaks depends on how strong it is.

As we are all human, we all face temptation in many beguiling forms. However, take comfort in this: no temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it (I Cor. 10-13 NIV).

Is Bill Cosby Right?

2005-11-09T00:16:00.000-05:00

I was at the library today and came upon what I decided would be the latest addition to my self-imposed book list. Is Bill Cosby Right? (Or Has The Black Middle Class Lost Its Mind?). At first glance, I thought the book by Michael Eric Dyson was in support of Cosby's position. Once I got home and read the inside flap (something I normally do before deciding on any book), I realized Dyson's book was an argument against Cosby's view.

I remember when I first heard the report of Cosby's statements, I thought, 'that's right, right on.' However, when I read through the introduction of Dyson's book, I realized that I hadn't gotten the entire text of Cosby's statements, verbatim. It turns our that I had to apply some critical thinking to what Cosby had said, and also re-examine some of his motives that do or may reside in myself.

Cosby, I believe was correct in pointing out that personal habits or/and lifestyles of Black American families contribute to their plight. However, the same (as Dyson pointed out) can be said for any non-Black family as well. Also, systemic (i.e.: political, legal, and socio-economical) issues also play a key role in keeping the 'lack' in Black when it comes to public education, family stability, and viable employment. There are other sources on the Web (not to mention off-line) that get into greater depth on the above issues, so I will digress.

To Dyson point, I do believe Black elitism is alive and well, as is shame for those Blacks who chose or can't help but be ghettofabulous. I have been blessed as a Nigerian-American living in the Greater Boston area to live on both ends of the Red Line (subway). Ashmont (in the belly of Dorchester) is very demographically different from Harvard (in the heart of Cambridge). I am as cozy with giving a brother a pound and a 'whaz'zup dog' as I am nodding to a fellow Cantabridgian with a smile and a 'good morning."

In the end, I feel there is room for all Blacks to get theirs, whether they're from Cambridge or from Dorchester. We need to understand how similar and different our lives are, and then embrace those things. When I see my nieces and nephew fully wrapped up in the hip-hop cultures wardrobe and diction, my only concern is that they realize that what is 'cool' isn't always the same as what gets you where you want or need to go.

I pray that we don't abandon each other out of shame or contempt.

Why are we here? Why now?

2005-11-08T12:59:00.000-05:00

Finally, I have bent to the lure of le blog. After a conversation with my cousin-in-law "K", about what we as Christians do to spread the Good News, I found myself feeling like I had not been doing as much of the "heavy lifting" as I ought to, or could. Following the directive of Jesus to go and tells all nations of what he had taught his disciples; baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, I argued could be accomplished in a variety of ways. I believe that, we are all given gifts and are spiritually called to use these gifts according to His purpose.

This blog is my exploitation of the gift given to me to that directive. Or a least the manifestation of that gift. Deepak Chopra wrote in his book The Way of the Wizard, cherish every desire in your heart, for one day they will lead you to God. My prayer for this blog is that regardless of your religious or/and spiritual belief is that your desires do lead you to God, or a the very least make you believe in something beyond yourself that illuminates your life, fills you with love, and brings you peace of mind.