Charley Says It All

One morning, after taking Coal, the allergic to the world wonder-pug, to his monthly car payment...I mean, visit to his dermatologist. Yes, he has a dermatologist...don't even get me started. But after his visit and our return home, I entered through the laundry room, and I heard Charley letting out a terrible howl from somewhere in the house. I hustled around the corner to find him standing at the front door just bellowing away, and he didn't stop until Coal trotted around the corner into the living room.

Now, Charley has never been a mouthy dog. Even after teaching him to speak, he often lets out a silent bark the first time or two. For Charley to repeatedly howl, I can only think he was really upset, and based on his silence upon Coal's return, I thought he must have missed his brother. I honestly found it rather touching.

I called Sara on the way to work to recount the tale of our dogs' bro-union, and Sara was equally flummoxed by Charley's new vocal lamentations.

Later that night, Sara came home to find Charley howling away again...even though Coal was nearby. I, at first, became worried that Charley might be showing his age--he had lost track of Coal and became upset. But then it hit me, maybe Charley missed the humans in his life, likely Sara...most definitely me. And again, I was touched by Charley's deep connection with those around him.

So when I arrived home that night, I decided to do a little experiment. Sara and I, with Coal in tow, left through the front door as if departing. I patiently waited outside for the howls to commence, and...nothing. I returned Coal to the house while Sara and I remained outside, and pretty soon, the mournful sound of...silence became deafening. Charley seemed thoroughly nonplussed by our absence.

With my tail tucked between my legs and my experiment an utter failure, I reentered the house. Upon entry, I realized that the dog pillow was still in the dryer, and I went to grab it for the dogs.

As soon as I opened the dryer door, Charley came running around the corner, slipping and sliding on the hardwood with complete disregard for his own well-being. As I slipped the pillow into it's freshly washed cover, I thought Charley was about to come out of his skin in anticipation. Never has reunion between an animal and inanimate object elicited such emotion.

And it suddenly became painfully clear...Charley missed his pillow.

Not his brother...not his humans...his pillow!

His flippin' pillow.

The Night my Wife Stabbed Me & Other Tall Tales

Some people just know how to put on a production. My Father-In-Law is one of those people. Besides being able to choreograph a killer fireworks display, my FIL is a master storyteller. Anytime the family gathers for a holiday or another food-centric occasion, Saturday morning breakfast is guaranteed to devolve into an exchanges of tales from days gone by...and no one spins the yarns quite like Sara's dad.

You see, my FIL has a unique ability to paint a picture with his words. When he recounts the misadventures of his youthful days alongside three brothers, you almost feel party to the mischief, mayhem, and destruction left in their wake. (My apologies to the city of Shreveport.) When he tells stories about the mishaps at their airplane repair shop, it becomes clear that only through divine intervention did he escape those years without serious injury. I mean, an engine once grabbed him by the moob (that's the medical term), yanked him off his feet, and dumped him on his head, and he walked away just fine...with the exception of a hard to explain bruise.

I've witnessed looks of horrific clarity and revelation come across Sara's grandmother's face as years of unknown mishaps have been brought to light over the breakfast table. How'd her boys go through socks so frequently? Because they became projectile missiles with intent to maim after lights out. Why'd that favorite meal taste a bit off one time? Because my FIL coughed Nestle's Quik into the gravy and simply stirred it in as if it was a thickening agent to cover his tracks.

While my FIL never tells outright lies, he never shies from hyperbole...should it serve the story...as you'll discover in the titular tale.

Several years ago, Sara's father was a regular tenant at Casa de Newhouse. He was working south of San Antonio, and rather than driving 8 hours to Tyler, TX every weekend, he'd cut his weekend commute in half by staying with us.

It was Friday during Lent, and Sara, being a good Catholic, had planned a meatless dinner option for what I playfully (and begrudgingly) refer to as NO MEAT FRIDAY! I arrived home just as dinner prep was hitting high gear. She was making spaghetti, one of my favorites, but I noticed something...odd...in her meal preparation--she was cutting up zucchini and squash. Knowing that spaghetti is typically a stand alone dish for us, I innocently asked, "Are you putting that in the sauce?" (Okay, so there may have been a BLEEECH tone in my voice.) To which she informed me through clenched teeth that we had already discussed this plan, and I had given my approval.

Just moments later, Sara's dad walked through the door, surveyed the dinner situation, and seeing the veggies on the cutting board, asked, "Are you putting THAT in the sauce?!"

This is how my FIL describes the scene from that moment forward (with intensifying volume):

I mean, I just asked a simple question, and next thing you know, Sara grabs the knife and begins gesticulating with it, reading us the riot act about calling us...running the recipe by us...getting our approval...but honestly, all I can concentrate on is how with each passing moment and each blade-emphasized point, the knife is getting closer and closer to Ben's chest...and the poor boy doesn't even flinch...he's so used to these brushes with death.

Covertly, I kept to trying to signal to Ben that he should run for his life and save himself, but I wasn't sure I could get away with it without tipping off Sara. And so I simply begged forgiveness...in hopes of being spared...from an act that Sara clearly would have argued as justifiable homicide.

(End Scene)

With each retelling of this incident, the danger, the rage, and the size of the knife has grown in my father's portrayal. I'm pretty sure in the next iteration, I will finally be stabbed by a sword just for walking into the kitchen, and the scars I really bear from Crohn's and gall bladder surgery will be reminders of the day I questioned Sara's culinary prowess.

Of course, Sara has a very different view of this incident. She feels justified in her frustration since she had taken the time to gain meal approval from the masses, and she swears that she simply gesticulated with the knife because she was in the middle of cutting the squash. No husbands or fathers were ever harmed (or at risk of harm) in the creation of this tale.

And that's how I remember things, as well...because I'm writing this at knife point.

You can put it down now, honey.

LeaderShape: My Week in the U.P.

It's amazing how quickly time can fly when you're posting absolutely diddly squat. Topic ideas have come and gone in multitudes with nothing to show in terms of production. If I keep up this pace, this blog will fall into oblivion in no time, which would cause my mother at least a little dismay...well, she'd be polite enough to fake it...I think.

Honestly, dear reader(s), 2012 has offered plenty of substantive content; I just haven't dedicated the time to let you in on my world. Some of those moments will have to remain in the past, but I would be remiss if I did not recount an amazing experience that began literally hours into the New Year.

Last summer, I asked my friend and classmate, John Lehman, about LeaderShape, an intensive week-long leadership program for college students. No, that is a terribly underwhelming description. At LeaderShape, students learn to embrace a healthy disregard for the impossible, challenge themselves and each other to lead with integrity, and commit to make a positive difference in the world in their own unique way. It's powerful, life-altering work, folks.

So back to John...knowing that he had served as a Lead Facilitator on a number of campuses, I wanted to know how I could get involved. John encouraged me to consider serving as a Cluster Facilitator--part of the LeaderShape faculty that works with a subset of the larger community (i.e. the Family Cluster)--for Michigan Tech's LeaderShape program. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth (Is John the horse in this expression?), I expressed my extreme interest, no questions asked...though I really should have asked at least one question.

You see, I assumed Michigan Tech would hold its LeaderShape experience in May...when it was, you know, defrosted in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. You know what they say when you assume...you end up freezing your tail off in the U.P. in January. That, my friends, is the highly abbreviated version as to how this Texas boy ended up spending New Year's Day on the way to Michigan to work with and learn from 60 amazing Michigan Tech student leaders.

LeaderShape 2012 Faculty
Michigan Tech

I was privileged to work with a fabulous Family Cluster (Shout-out to my A B-BRASS KEY peeps!), an awesome faculty (Sully, Courtney, Renee, Karyn, Katie C., Dani, & Katie V.), and two talented Lead Facilitators, Amy Climer and Chris Carey.

To say the experience was personally transformative would be an understatement.

I was there, first and foremost, for the students, but you can't experience LeaderShape without doing an immense amount of self-work. I found myself stretched in ways I could never imagine, embraced by a community of complete strangers, and reminded how much I love serving as a facilitator to groups of any size. I was impacted in incredibly wonderful ways, but two revelations stick out:

Vision Clarification
Every participant created a vision detailing how she/he intended to change the world. I came to LeaderShape with decent understanding of my personal vision, but Michigan Tech's Vice President for Student Affairs, Les Cook's closing remarks on Day 6 gave words to what I knew in my heart. My vision is to positively impact those who will positively impact the world. That, in essence, is why I do the work I do.

Mythbusting
Eight of my twelve years as a Student Affairs professional have been spent at my alma mater, Trinity University. That's 2/3 of my professional career in one place. It's no wonder Trinity has become home to me. But after spending so much time in one place, it becomes hard to imagine yourself being professionally happy anywhere else or loving any students beyond the beloved red brick walls of Trinity. It took about 3 hours for the Michigan Tech students to dispel that myth, reminding me that exceptional student leaders will find their way into my life and into my heart no matter where I land.

Before I ramble on too long (too late), I owe a special thanks to Travis Pierce for inviting me to participate in LeaderShape and getting me to Michigan despite a detour into Wisconsin because of a blizzard. In addition, many thanks to my CCI family for allowing me to head north just as offices reopened and holding down the fort in my absence, and to my wife, with whom down time is rare and precious, for supporting me in this experience even though it meant cutting our holiday short.

And to my Family Cluster, A B-BRASS KEY--Andrew, Austin, Brad, Erik, Kyle, Rachel, Sam, Sophia, and Yvonne, you each have the ability to change this world for the better. Never doubt what you are capable of, and if that inner voice ever tries to stymie your resolve, hear mine cheering you on, reminding you of what you already know: You are a gift to this world. Live that truth...and you will truly touch lives and impact this world in a powerful, positive way.
 

A B-BRASS KEY

Thanks for sharing your week with me.

Ben