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These "news"
entries are listed in chronological order from TOP to BOTTOM
**DECEMBER 2009**
12 December 2009
As of right now, it's pretty much decided that I will return to HK in
mid-January to try and finalize my visa arrangements.
Now, I've known for almost 2 years that I needed to go back -- and I've had
almost 16 months to get all my worldly goods either SOLD or PACKED.
But honestly -- you're NEVER ready to move to another country. Never.
I know this because I've done it 3 times.
And it amazes me that I never fail to carry in my mind a picture of how things
will go when I leave -- the sort of "Platonic ideal" of the perfect
goodbye. It starts with an imagined checklist, thorough and extensive, of all
the things I need to do -- a kind of guide-map to transitional bliss -- and it
includes several beautiful girls who come nightly for weeks beforehand to help
me pack and prepare every last detail for my departure -- not a single point's
been missed, no crumbs left unswept -- everything gathered in neat piles (this
one for my suitcase, this one for giving away, this one for the trash) -- and my
preparations are so perfectly planned and executed that the final night before
my flight I have NOTHING left to do -- it's all DONE!! -- and I spend a relaxing
evening at home, toasting my last sunset in xx, surrounded by my friends,
revisiting the good times of the last x years -- and then the next
morning, up early and refreshed for the taxi to the airport -- and then
especially I see myself boarding the plane -- dramatic music filling the air,
everyone moving in slow-motion, as I cross the tarmac and walk up the staircase
to the open door of the 747 -- and just as I get to the top, I turn to wave to
the adoring loved ones who all wished I'd just stay -- "Oh, Glenn, why DO
you have to leave?!?" they'd ask, some of them (the girls) weeping openly,
and with no shame -- but there I am, determined and focused on the way forward,
waving goodbye and blowing kisses (especially to the weeping girls), before
finally turning and disappearing into the plane -- having perfectly, and with
great style and panache, brought one chapter of my life to a close, and now
heading off to begin a NEW chapter -- with a song in my heart, dreams in my
mind, and the lingering memory of the beautiful, weeping girls I left behind...
And so, understand -- every time I have to move to another country, I spend
MONTHS dreaming this scene -- but the REALITY usually involves me, sweaty and
breathless, stumbling thru the airport, dropping socks and papers as I go, just
barely getting to the gate in time, leaving an entire apartment full of mess for
someone else to clean up and take care of -- and arriving at my new destination
with the air of a man who has escaped from some great trial -- like some man who
has survived his baptism by fire, but with clothes singed and smelling of
smoke...
I have learned that this disconnect between my Platonic ideal and my reality
is inevitable and unavoidable -- yet I'm not ashamed to fall short. Because
frankly, not many could handle the blur of goodbyes and "see you soons"
if they knew that, more likely than not, they'd have to do it all
over again, all too soon...
So here I am, at the end of the first decade of the first century of the millennium,
preparing once more to cry (and hide) the tears of so many farewells -- but all
the while somehow knowing that despite how far short of perfection I end up,
nevertheless, I'm on the right road, and under God's careful, watching
eyes...
14 December 2009
Yesterday was a good day.
Started off at 5:30am, up and at 'em, before driving the 45 minutes over to
Forest Park church to play in their worship team. Just so happens that they
have, by far, the best worship team in town -- and by some miracle of God, they
not only let me sit in when I'm not on the road, they actually INVITE me to do
it, and act like they enjoy it when I'm there!!
(Truth is, I can't possibly help THEM nearly as much as playing with them
helps ME -- it's been too many years since I tooted the ole saxomophone, and
there is NO better way to get your chops back in working order than playing with
the best worship band in town).
Afterwards we were going to lunch, slightly delayed because they had a
meeting ("It should only be a short one") -- but over an hour later I
was still sitting in the stillness of the darkened sanctuary, alone with my
growling stomach -- and I had no choice but to bail out if I was going to keep
on schedule for the day.
So my next stop was the Louisville Japanese Christian Fellowship (LJCF) --
they meet at 2:30pm each Sunday -- but I stopped off for a quick lunch at
"China 1" restaurant just down the street from where they meet. I have
to admit, it was HORRIBLE -- not because the owners/cooks weren't Chinese
(almost NONE of the Chinese restaurants here are owned by Chinese) -- and not
because it wasn't a clean place (it WAS clean) -- and not even because the only
drinks they had were in cans -- no, it wasn't horrible for ANY of those reasons,
but because for some reason my food smelled like ashes. Looked good, tasted
quite good -- but the ashes smell was strong (and disturbing). Understand, NO
ONE was smoking, and there was no smell of smoking or ashtrays in the restaurant
at all -- but when he set the plate in front of me, the smell was almost
overpowering in its disgustednessnosity.
Nevermind that my Moo Goo Gai Pan smelled like ashes -- I ate it ALL -- and I
was done in time to get my Japanese on, and I did it fer sure, y'all. Had a
great afternoon with those guys, before heading home -- and THIS time I got a
REAL dinner, in the form of the frozen "Cheesy Chicken and Rice" I've
been hoarding (that single frozen meal is enough to make one want to say,
"God bless America!" -- and only someone who's lived in other cultures
would understand EXACTLY how I mean that).
Went to sleep on the couch watching the Simpsons, and was in bed by 9:30pm,
like the old man I am.
Yeah -- yesterday was a VERY good day...
17 December 2009
fritter status <12:25am>:
"Barney Rubble... what an actor!"
. . .
I was at a meeting with an investments lady earlier today (transferring some
funds before the end of this tax year) -- but as she was filling in the forms,
she asked me, "What's the net worth of your household?"
Wow -- she caught me off guard with that one! We discussed the answer for a second, and she finally felt satisfied to write
down the number we decided upon -- but to tell you the truth, the whole question
REALLY got me to thinking, and has stuck with me in a powerful way all
afternoon.
Not in the "I'm trying to make this a philosophical discussion"
kind of way -- you know what I mean -- not in the "what are ANY of us
really WORTH?!?" kind of way -- that's cheesy.
But actually, I just mean in the real, bottom-line, write-out-a-number kind
of way -- I'm talking, the "here's a number and that is your net
worth" kind of way -- a black-and-white, "you can't fudge on
this" kind of way.
What *is* my net worth?!?
Well, I'm *not* going to tell you what the answer was, exactly, but let's just say it
was disturbing to watch her write down such a small number -- and as a
42-year-old dude, I suddenly felt utterly and completely vulnerable in a way I'd
never felt before.
I don't own a car, I don't own a house, I don't even own a bed -- no land -- no big investment
portfolios -- NOTHING. And later, as I was driving to meet some people for
lunch, I started thinking, what DO I own?!? A saxophone, a couple cameras, a
computer... two bass guitars, and some microphones... And BOOKS -- lots of
books...
And that's it. That is my net worth -- without telling you the exact number, I just
told you what I'm worth, in dollars and cents. You can now go on eBay and do a
few searches, and pretty much guess the number she wrote down.
And I've got nothing profound to end this with -- well, except THIS:
..."I tell you,
don’t worry about the food you need to live, or about the clothes you need for
your body. Life
is more than food, and the body is more than clothes. Look
at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest, they don’t have storerooms or
barns, but God feeds them. And you are worth much more than birds. You
cannot add any time to your life by worrying about it. If
you cannot do even the little things, then why worry about the big things? Consider
how the lilies grow; they don’t work or make clothes for themselves. But I
tell you that even Solomon with his riches was not dressed as beautifully as one
of these flowers. God
clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today but tomorrow is thrown into
the fire. So how much more will God clothe you? Don’t have so little faith! Don’t
always think about what you will eat or what you will drink, and don’t keep
worrying. All
the people in the world are trying to get these things, and your Father knows
you need them. But
seek God’s kingdom, and all your other needs will be met as well."
-- Luke 12:22-31
And all I can say is, DUDE, I ain't got no where else to go... I've put all
my eggs into that one basket right there...
18 December 2009
Earlier this week I went to the dentist for a check-up, and the girl who was
cleaning my teeth told me, "Oh, you've got a healthy salivary flow!"
So, hey, LADIES -- I got THAT goin' for me, too!
. . .
fritter status <7:40pm>:
"hongkongbrother has been making EXTENSIVE use of the entire QUIL family of
cold medications (alternating doses of both Day and Ny). On a related note,
let's just say I now get it why hobo's drink cough syrup in the movies -- this
stuff will mess... you... up..."
20 December 2009
fritter status <6:53pm>:
EVAN BUTLER said: "Cookie cake...
cookie, or cake, or it's own thing in general, you decide!"
hongkongbrother replied:
"1) It's definitely cookie;
2) But it's in the form of cake;
3) Therefore it is, quite literally, BOTH cookie (substance) *and*
cake (form);
4) HOWEVER, by somehow being distinctly cookie, plus distinctly
cake, *and* both at the same time, it is obviously in its own category.
I hereby conclude that we can state: Cookie cake is either, both, and neither --
all at once."
25 December 2009
A friend wrote me an email recently, and he ended it by saying something
like, "Hope you enjoy the last Christmas you'll spend with your family
for many years to come!"
And I know how he meant it -- this is a guy who's had to spend Christmas in
far-off places before -- he KNOWS what it's like, and I know his sentiment was
to tell me to TREASURE the time I have here, with my family. I know that.
But wow -- when I read that sentence it hit me like a rock -- I mean, it hit
me deep, and it hurt, and it made me a wee bit angry, to tell the truth. Not at
my friend!! But truth is, I know this may be the last Christmas I *ever* spend
with my family. Shake your head, protest if you like -- but that is NOT a crazy
notion -- it's really POSSIBLE.
And so, having had one of the best Christmas Days I can remember, I'm going
to bed now -- tired and satisfied that maximum fun was had by all -- but
knowing, in the back of my mind, that it may be the last one I ever share with
those I love the most...
30 December 2009
fritter status <10:40am>:
"hongkongbrother is slow, and he doesn't always follow directions like
he should -- but he doesn't give up very easily -- WRITE THAT DOWN..."
31 December 2009
fritter status <1:42pm>:
"The things I said would happen have happened, and now I'm telling you
about new things. That's right! Even before those new things happen, I'm telling
you about them!" ~ (Is 42:9)
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