The Breakfast of Champions

Today, I make my way to San Antonio to serve on the faculty for NACA's Huge Leadership Weekend. I'm super excited to participate in the learning and growth of all in attendance, but I'm mostly excited to reenter the land of the breakfast taco.

For the uninitiated, let me describe the wonder that is the breakfast taco. It's simple really. A breakfast taco is pretty much any combination of breakfast-type foods...wrapped in a flour tortilla. (And now you understand my befuddlement as to how this national treasure has yet to become...well...a national treasure!)

Breakfast tacos can please almost anyone...unless you hate breakfast...and then I judge you. You can select from bacon & egg, potato & egg, or sausage & egg. You know, the gringo-friendly offerings. If you want to be a bit more adventurous, you can throw chorizo into the mix. If you're like me and have fully embraced Tex-Mex culture, then I recommend a bean & cheese, migas, or chilaquiles taco (chi-leh-ke'-les; not chil-luh-quil-les as my wife's coworker pronounced it recently...though with a sweet southern accent, it's pretty endearing).

What makes a breakfast taco so good...besides cheese, because, well, that's a given...is the fresh homemade flour tortillas. With every bite, I can picture mi abuelita making each tortilla with love...and lard...just for me. Yes, I realize my tiny grandmother has likely never seen a tortilla press, but a gringo can dream, can't he?!

Since moving to Birmingham, I have scoured the land (of google) to find a breakfast taco establishment. I even visited a specialty market down the road but to no avail. If I had the capital, the health permits and the abuelita to make it happen, I'd gladly bring the breakfast taco to Birmingham. 

Until then, I'll just have to make an annual trip to SA to get my fix.

Damn, I'm hungry.

My WAY better half

Thus far, my wife, Sara, has made only cameo appearances in my blog, playing a small part in a much larger story. And looking back over my body of work, I've painted quite the unflattering picture--knife wielder, dog disowner, and meal ticket. But that doesn't do her justice, and Sara is no bit player in the story of my life.

I've refrained from sharing too much about our lives together for a couple reasons. First, it's fine for my self-deprecating style to make me (or my Father-In-Law) the butt of the joke, but prior offenses aside, that's not a fate I want for my spouse. Plus, giving you insight into our daily lives would be like watching twelve years of the longest inside joke ever. That makes for a great marriage...but pretty mediocre reading material. (Keep this in mind all you future wedding toasters.)

And yet, I can't help but give you, dear readers, a little taste of the super-sweetness that is my wife. This past week, I've been in Colorado for my final onsite class for my doctoral program. It's tough to be away from Sara for several days in a row, but she is especially skilled at bridging the distance.

On most trips, Sara finds a way to hide a card for each day we're apart. It's heartwarming to wake each morning to the perfect card and her wonderful words. It's a trait that I adore but can never effectively reciprocate...but there was one time I came close.

This week's cards

The first summer we dated, I worked at a mission camp in Tennessee called Mountain T.O.P. Even in the early stages of our relationship, Sara was a card-sender. Actually, that's the understatement of the decade. Sara was the card industry's customer of the year. Every day would bring a new card and every week a care package full of baked goodness. My staff, having never met Sara, adored her nonetheless.

Now understand, I was over the moon for my future wife, but card-giving and romantic gestures were not a part of my depressingly limited repertoire, which makes the happy accident I'm about to detail all the more impressive. For all the cards I received that summer, I think I mailed four in return. Like I said, Ben has little to no game, folks. But one day, upon opening my card, I called Sara to ask if she'd gone to the mail yet...because waiting for her that very moment was the exact card she'd sent to me. Pretty cool, huh?

I've kept every card Sara has sent me over the years, but I cherish one set the most--our unexpected duplication which confirms, despite my failings in her area of strength, that the card's sentiment was right. We really are "two peas in a pod."

Class of 2013, Raise Your Glass...

As an educator, I measure time according to the college lifecycle. The terms semester, break and exams remain as present in my lexicon as they were 15 years ago. Each year, I grow older, yet my charges remain stuck in time, forever 18-22. You see, when this college thing works as it should, students eventually graduate...hopefully in 4 years, maybe 5 years time (no shame, victory lappers). And for me, there's something incredibly satisfying in shepherding a student from orientation to graduation. You are optimally positioned to witness the growth, achievements, and victories of the students you have grown to know and love...which makes these final days of the academic year a touch bittersweet.

Last October, I departed my professional home of 6 years to become the Dean of Students at Birmingham-Southern College. It's been a wonderfully fulfilling transition, and I have enjoyed celebrating the senior traditions on my new campus--Bell Ringing on the last day of class, the Senior Party on the Quad, the Capping Ceremony, and Graduation by the lake. 

But I can't help but think of those I left behind--those at Trinity whom I had the privilege of connecting with on a daily basis for 3+ years, and when I think of them, it forces me to acknowledge that I'm missing out on my favorite part of their educational journey.

At Trinity there's a tradition called The Last Great Reception in which a faculty member offers a toast to the graduating class. It's a powerful, touching, and slightly rowdy tradition (that's what happens when you give parents of graduating seniors booze apparently), but it's made me reflect on what I would say to Class of 2013 if I had my time at the podium.  

So instead of a mic, I have my blog, and from my luminescent podium, I have some things to share with you, the Class of 2013--those I have grown to love in my new role and those I will forever hold dear even though I am no longer present in their daily lives.

Some of my words will be practical and some philosophical, but all of them are heartfelt:

1. You...are...precious. I don't mean that in a condescending, creepy Uncle Ben, everybody gets a trophy kind of way. I mean that in the "you are a gift to this world, don't let anyone tell you otherwise" kind of way. Surround yourself with people who believe in you and acknowledge your awesomeness. Abandon those who make you feel less for embracing your, well, you-ness. Tell that self-defeating voice in your head to stuff it. Replace that voice with mine, and you'll know that you are cherished by many.

2. You...are...fallible. What?! Seems a bit contradictory juxtaposed to my last statement. It's not. Mistakes don't make a person any less worthy of appreciation and respect. Own your mistakes, learn from them, and help them make you an even better version of yourself. When I am at my strongest and most confident, I have great comfort in acknowledging my faults, and quite frankly, I like the flawed version of myself much better than the mask of perfection I sometimes try to hide behind.

3. Love and be loved by a partner who makes you whole, but also, makes you someone who can stand alone. Wow, another contradiction! I say, nay, my friends...or maybe it's just that love is the perfect contradiction. My wife and I value our independence, and yet we enjoy life much better as a pair. We allow each other to be our authentic selves even when that authenticity creates conflict. We compromise daily without compromising ourselves. And the end result? A blessed union that is my greatest source of strength. I hope that you find your own perfect contradiction in time.

4. Live your passion. I say two things to every incoming class. One, you have the potential to be world-changers in ways both big and small. Two, "Figure out what you care about and live a life that shows it" (John Hoyt). Okay, I also say, "Claim your education," but I digress. As you graduate, I reiterate these statements again, and I hope you find a way to take your knowledge, tools, and talents to engage in truly fulfilling work. I was blessed to find that in my work with you, and it is work I was born to do.

5. Contribute to the dialogue; not the cacophony. As of late, it appears that we have elected to eschew intellectual discourse for commentary that preys upon our basest fears...reduced to meme form. We live in a complex world with complex problems, and we owe it to each other to educate ourselves, seek out alternative perspectives, and find solutions based in reality rather screaming from the sidelines of the far left or far right. That, my friends, is a claimed education.

It's been a blessing to be a part of the last few years of your life, but I can take little credit in the people you've become. I was simply a witness to it, and as one who really paid attention, know that you have much to be proud of on this day before your special day. You have grown into the world-changers I knew you would become.

So as your time here comes to a close and you step onto a different, far bigger stage, know that I remain in the audience, still in awe of your talents, and cheering you on just as I've always been.

Cheers, Class of 2013. Your time has come.