Clergy Family Confidential

Ben recently received an assignment to do a presentation on a famous person using Power Point. He’s in third grade. I don’t know how to use Power Point. And I still associate it with middle management sales staff that travels around the country with their laptops giving presentations on the merits of corrugated plastic products.

I guess this is Exhibit A in the generation gap. The first computer I encountered was in middle school – it was named Huey and it was a giant contraption that used those manila punch cards. I’m not sure what it could do besides addition and subtraction and it seemed to me like the world’s largest calculator. I wasn’t impressed.

But, to be honest, this is why I decided to have kids in the first place: for at-home tech support. In a few years I won’t need to talk to someone in India. I’ll just need to roust a sleeping teenager (and, yes, I understand this is hard to do).

I’m always going to be behind the technology curve. Sure, I’m blogging now but this isn’t exactly a high tech site – no videos or a streaming “priest cam,” as compelling as that might be. And while I’ve never sent a text message, I am proud of the fact that I have never, ever used an emoticon in an email. If you ever see a smiley face in a message from me you’ll know the Kremlin has hacked into my email system.

Ben’s decided to do his presentation on George Lucas. Perhaps in a “galaxy far, far away” there’s a place where I’d be on the cutting edge of technology. I’m not holding my breath.

We had a great weekend visiting family in Baltimore. It’s rare these days that we can get all six cousins together. Part of it is geography — New York, Virginia, Michigan. And part of it is the pesky fact that I have to work on weekends — I couldn’t seem to negotiate this out of my contract. We met our newest niece, Rowan (no relationship to Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams), for the first time this weekend and she’s already eight months old!  

One of the highlights was to “Ride The Duck.” Oh, alright, I’ll explain. The Duck is a sightseeing operation that tours around Baltimore. When you buy the tickets they give everybody bright yellow quackers so you can quack at people as you pass by. Whoever dreamed this up obviously never had kids. Or maybe they had a bitter childhood and determined to torture other parents for a living. Needless to say my ears are still ringing. Or quacking to be precise.

The amazing thing about The Duck is that it is both a bus and a boat. So after pointing out a few highlights, like Edgar Allen Poe’s grave, it suddenly went down a ramp and motored around the Inner Harbor. Pretty nifty. I’m looking into converting my Honda CRV into an SUV/boat. That way I could offer someone a ride, pretend to lose control, and drive into the Hudson River. Oh, the hilarity!

Finally, a few Highlights and Lowlights of our weekend in Baltimore:

Highlight: 3 and a 1/2 hour trip down on Friday morning was the first long car ride without needing to stop.

Lowlight: Trip back took 5 hours thanks to construction in Delaware and the George Washington Bridge.

Highlight: Great Sunday brunch at the Renaissance Hotel with a view overlooking the Inner Harbor.

Lowlight: Missed getting to church.

Highlight: Could see Ravens Stadium from the hotel room.

Lowlight:  The Orioles were out of town, losing in Anaheim.

Highlight: All the cousins got along famously.

Lowlight: Having to pull them apart made our boys cranky for the ride home.

Highlight: Crab and bacon omelet for brunch on Sunday.

Lowlight: Cheddar cheese Combos and water for lunch on the long drive home.

Highlight: A great weekend away.

Lowlight: Next weekend off isn’t until August.

Big night at Law Park last week. The boys’ baseball team had their first game of the season. Squire’s (their team named for a popular burger joint in town) beat Briarcliff Seafood 15-3. They were thrilled. I was just thrilled that neither one struck out in their first at bat of the season. Zack was particularly nervous about this and it might have set the tone for the rest of the season. It certainly would have had a negative effect on bedtime. I can’t say I “prayed” for a base hit but this is the first year they record strike outs which adds a new element of danger to the whole affair. It is coach pitch so there’s no real chance of getting beaned with some high heat.

But they both played well and connected on each of their five at bats. I considered it a success from my end since at no point during the game did I run out onto the field to add my coaching two cents. It was very tempting — “Square up, choke up, back off the plate, step into the pitch.” But I don’t want to get a reputation around town so I let the coaches coach. We’ll continue to work on some things in the backyard and I’ll try not to live out my failed professional athletic dreams vicariously through my children. There’s enough of that in this town.

The best part of the whole affair was the opposing team’s hats. The aqua-colored lids were emblazoned with a big “BS” (for Briarcliff Seafood). I need one of those.

Well, the cover art for my book (Morehouse) is done and I think it looks great! Interestingly, the illustrator, David Hefling, is also an Episcopal priest and a theology professor at Boston College. Some people are just too gifted.

Unfortunately they could only fit a picture of one boy on the cover. So now Ben and Zack are arguing about which one of them it is. I’ve recently taught them a new vocabulary word: composite. But they prefer to continue the debate rather than reflect upon my absurd notion. And by “debate” don’t think US Senate. Think more along the lines of professional wrestling.

The book has been given a September release date. You can actually pre-order it from Amazon, and save 20%, by clicking here. I assume it would arrive before September — the release date is more for publicity purposes (I’m told). I may pre-order one just to see when it arrives. Of course I’d give myself a personally signed copy.

Spring Break is getting easier. Even a couple of years ago the mere mention of it sent chills down our collective parental spines. No school, lots of rain, all the boys’ friends in Florida, and me slaving away during Holy Week. Bryna spent the week trapped inside with cranky kids arguing over everything from putting socks on to drinking root beer for breakfast. And no you can’t watch nine straight episodes of Sponge Bob Square Pants. What’s left of your brain will explode.

This year has been great in comparison. Besides not overlapping with Holy Week (Easter was as early as it possibly can be), the weather has been fabulous. Which means if anyone gets whiny they’ll receive a quick shove out the door into the backyard. It’s the perfect cure-all for everybody involved.

We also spent a couple of days in Boston which helped eased the everyone-else-is-going-somewhere-why-can’t-we syndrome. We hit some of the old standards and the kids had a great time. While I ran the marathon, Bryna took Ben and Zack to the Museum of Science. The next day I hobbled around after them at the New England Aquarium and Faneuil Hall before heading to Harvard Square for dinner. I was disappointed that my old college haunt Nick’s Beef & Beer was no longer in Cambridge but I doubt they would have had a kids’ menu anyway (cheap beer in a sippy cup?).

Still, I am working this week which the boys don’t really get. They’re off so I should be available to play baseball with them on demand, right? But I did find a great solution to this. We went out and got them a pitch-back. This is basically a metal frame with tightly wound netting. They can throw the ball and it comes back to them. Instant baseball buddy! I thought about putting my face on it so it felt like I was playing catch with them (how’s that for lame parenting?). But then I realized they’d just be pelting my face with baseballs. And enjoying it way too much.

Here I am grinding it out. Do I look good in a muscle shirt or what? No need to test for steroids on this runner!

This was taken just after I crossed the finish line. I’m shaking hands with Tufts University president (and marathoner) Larry Bacow. I’m not sure what I said since I was delirious; hopefully nothing too embarassing.

4:20:12. That’s what I ran in today’s Boston Marathon and it feels great! Well, aside from some very sore legs and a touch of post-race nausea. But that’s just temporary — the memory of completing this historic marathon will endure.

It’s quite a course. The infamous “Heartbreak Hill” is actually the culmination of four hills collectively known as the Newton Hills. Yes, they’re tough but it’s more their placement than the hills themselves — they stretch from mile 16 to 21 which is classic “Wall” territory.

I accomplished my main goal which was to run the entire course without stopping to walk. And when I got to the hills I wasn’t about to let Heartbreak Hill either break my heart or, more importantly, my spirit. The other thing I’ll never forget was the amazing crowd support. People were out in force from Hopkinton to Ashland to Framingham to Natick to Wellesley to Newton to Boston. They were amazing and loud.

For the first time I wore my name on my shirt during a marathon just to see if it would help. You see people do this all the time but I thought people calling out my name might get annoying — especially when I felt lousy and wanted to quit. But I wrote ”Father Tim” on a piece of tape figuring I could always peel it off if it got bad. It was awesome. I heard more calls of “Go Father Tim” than you can imagine and it really helped push me along.

It was most vocal around Boston College. Sure, the students thought I was a Roman Catholic priest but they were rooting hard and I had fun blessing them with my right hand as they yelled out my name. BC is also right along the route of Heartbreak Hill so the timing was perfect.

And in the end I raised over $3,000 for global nutrion through my alma mater, Tufts University. Thanks to my many sponsors and for those who supported me in prayer. I couldn’t have done this without you. Okay, lets be honest, I could have. But it wouldn’t have been nearly the experience it was. You guys are the best!

With Pope Benedict XVI in the United States this week, I find myself being a bit defensive. Our eldest son Benedict was not named for the current pope. His birth-date (and naming) preceded the death of John Paul II. Check the papal archives!

Our Ben was, of course, named for the saint not the former Cardinal Ratzinger known to the world as Benedict XVI. Though Ratzinger Schenck has a certain ring to it…

Click here to read an article I wrote in today’s Journal News on Benedict in America from a non-Roman Catholic perspective.

One of the rights of passage for marathoning is the taper. After months of increasingly longer runs (up to 22 miles), you suddenly back off the training quite dramatically. Most marathon programs call for 20 miles three weeks before the race, 12 miles two weeks out, and 8 miles the week before.

In preparation for Monday’s Boston Marathon I ran for the last time this morning — about five and a half miles. Now come the pre-race jitters. Most runners start to go a bit nuts when they can’t run for even several consecutive days. Add in pre-race nerves and it’s a recipe for twitching. Or at least driving your family mad.

Granted it didn’t help that I had three cups of coffee while working on my sermon at Coffee Labs. I was only going to have two mugs of the El Salvadoran blend but just as I was getting ready to pack up the owner, Mike Love, brought me over a free latte. To paraphrase Vito Corleone in The Godfather, it was an offer I coudn’t refuse. But it didn’t help with the whole twitching thing.

This afternoon I’m sitting in my office, getting some work done, and hydrating. This used to be called “drinking water.” Starting tomorrow I’ll pay special attention to carbo loading. Or, as I like to call it, the Anti-Atkins Diet (whatever happened to that?).

I’m still about $450 short of my goal to raise $2,500 for global nutrition programs through Tufts. You can click here to donate. If I don’t get there it’ll come out of my pocket. That’s fine — I was planning to donate something anyway. And, as I told Bryna, they did send me (what might become a $450) t-shirt and hat.   

I’m a compassionate guy. A caring person. Perhaps even sensitive. Okay, not sensitive but definitely compassionate. I said a prayer when I heard that someone on my flight from Seattle to New York was ill and we needed to make an emergency medical landing in Minneapolis. And when the EMTs arrived and wheeled her off the plane I gave her a surreptitious blessing as she went past my seat. She looked like she would be fine — I think it was a diabetic issue with her blood-sugar level.

But boy did she wreak havoc on my travel plans. After landing, the good folks at American Airlines (they had a rough week didn’t they?) detected a maintenance issue with the plane. Shocking. Which led to an unplanned four-hour layover in Minneapolis while they flew in the part from Chicago.

There’s nothing like 13 hours of travel culminating in a late-night arrival at JFK to prepare you for the 8 o’clock service the next morning. You try saying things like “rendering unto Thee most hearty thanks for the innumberable benefits procured unto us by the same” while you’re mind’s still in another time zone.  

I also discovered something else about myself. When the flight attendants made the announcement calling for any passengers with medical expertise I realized I was utterly useless. Unless they needed someone to pronounce last rites.