Kentucky: a neighborhood stroll

Then we stretched our legs in an adjacent neighborhood. The frayed ribbon of tarmac was flanked by dilapidated houses smartened up with wind chimes and ringer washing machines on their porches. Danny and I briefly discussed a career move to this peaceful pocket of the country. Danny could become, say, a propane salesman and I could decorate our windowsills with horse knickknacks from the Family Dollar.

But even as we were dreaming these dreams, grease-gray clouds marched in over the honeysuckle-smothered telephone poles and big, fat rain drops splattered around us. We were pretty sure the sky was falling on our heads, though Chicken Licken was unavailable to confirm it (Family Bucket $16.99. Supersize for 3.99 and get Henny Penny too). So we scooped up Sam, dashed for the vehicle, and hit the road.

The next morning very early, we crossed the Ohio River and into The North....

Kentucky: the Colonel

(...continued from previous blog)

After taking Sam’s photo on the bench next to a life-size plastic Col. Sanders, we made a bee line for KFC’s regional office located across the parking lot. It was also closed for the weekend but, wincing in the windows, we eagerly ogled at some 1930s filing cabinets. Since many of you (God willing, all of you) will never visit, let me describe for you the architecture: a rectangular brick building!!!

Kentucky: Sam visits the original KFC

(...continued from previous blog)

Exit 205 was accessorized by several sun-faded billboards pointing to Corbin, Kentucky... 2.5 miles, past American Greeting Card Road, right at the light, over a creek dammed up by two garbage-bloated shopping carts, past a tanning salon in a trailer, a home with 2 billy goats grazing in the yard, a dingy scuttle of warehouses each with a litter of 18-wheelers chomping at its doors, and then......................

Words escape me.

I gained 10 pounds on the spot.

Danny’s cholesterol soared.

Sam broke out in zits.

The fresh Kentucky air transformed into a greasy-moist haze, as if tens of thousands of buckets of fried chicken had been opened on that very spot, which, in point of fact, they had, since the 1920s. We swallowed the air in startled gulps. For this was the very spot where Col. Harland Sanders had raised the chief tenant of all Southern cuisine—If it’s worth eating, it’s worth frying—to the level of global franchise. Today KFC enjoys a cushy corner office in the globby global conglomerate Yum! Brands, Inc. For example, if you would like to visit KFC club in Taiwan, simply click here: http://www.kfcclub.com.tw/ .

Perhaps the most compelling aspect of the Col.’s story is that at the age of 66, the state’s new superhighway bypassed the town of Corbin. Up till then, Sanders had enjoyed a prime spot on the main north-south road. So the Col., by now silver haired and billy goateed, took to the road with his secret 11-spice recipe. He made deals where he would get a nickel for every piece of chicken sold and so it came to pass that the first official Kentucky Fried Chicken opened in Salt Lake City in 1952. He sold the franchise in 1964 for $2 million. So I just thought you would be heartened to know that unless you are 66, and even if you are, you can launch new ventures. If a Kentuckian could do that much damage with poultry, imagine your potential.

Kentucky

July is the month when Danny and I make our annual 850-mile pilgrimage to the home of our Savage ancestors on the shores of Lake Michigan. Although Sam made this pilgrimage last year inutero, he made it this year ex-utero, which was a much more comfortable experience for both of us. Mostly, I wanted to tell you about Sam’s journey, a luxury 16-hour nap punctuated by exciting tourist stops. Let’s talk about Kentucky.

Kentucky is a lovely state of tobacco farms, bourbon distilleries, bluegrass music, and green rolling pastures home to flocks of billboards. One particularly picturesque paddock featured this octuplet:

Flying J Truck Stop. Clean Showers!! ATM!!

Swamp Hollow Baptist Temple -- Abortion Kills Pastor Fitzgerald

Adult Toy Box. REAL Girls! Topless! Topless!

JESUS IS COMING. ARE YOU READY??

Pottery Outlet. Trinkets Gifts Garden Antiques Christmas

Be Careful Who You Trust for Nursing Home Care. Trust the Hamilton Family.

Waffle House. 9 miles ahead. Then left. Then right. 2 miles. Left. On right. Buses Welcome.

Get Marathon Gas. Fresh Donuts. Boiled Peanuts. Firewood.

In a way, I sense that this collage captures some of the various and unwieldy essences of Kentucky, and perhaps America.

Kentucky is also The Horse Capital of the World (let’s not mention this to the rest of the world). Sam did not make it to the Kentucky Derby. But he did spend much of his passage through the Horse State staring at horses’ rear ends which swayed gently to and fro in their trailers on Interstate 75. One rump was a gorgeous dappled silver and resembled the cratered surface of the moon.

Kentucky is also where bourbon began (you may mention this to the rest of the world). The first distillery opened 200 years ago after an “inspired” Reverend mixed corn, rye and barley malt with spring water and discovered a new taste. In 1864, an act of Congress designated bourbon “America’s only Native Spirit,” which was one of Congress’s chief accomplishments during an era when they were fighting some kind of war.

As it turned out, we couldn’t make it to either the Wild Turkey or Jim Beam distilleries before their weekend closing. Understandably, Sam began to fuss. Further efforts revealed that even the Buffalo Trace distillery was closed, and that boasts 12 of our countries largest fermenters!! Sam began to pound his car seat with a little wooden mallet. The Four Roses distillery (with its one-of-a-kind gift shop!), the Makers Mark distillery (fully air conditioned!), the Woodford Reserve (which uses copper pots!), the Oscar Getz Museum of Whiskey History, and the Heaven Hill Distilleries Bourbon Heritage Center were likewise closed. Sam’s mallet catapulted into the front seat warningly. Imagine then, my relief, to see a small sign indicating that we would soon be approaching the location of the ORIGINAL Kentucky Fried Chicken. We immediately resolved to visit. I like to think that we were taking lemons and making lemonade, a beverage which may not hold a glass to bourbon. And yet.

(to be continued in next blog...)

Hillcrest Tribe

Sam meets Mom's Nigerian classmates at a restaurant in Atlanta... a restaurant which burned down the next day. ooops!

Lint, Creases, etc.

Back in Sam's youth when he first appeared to us, he had wrists. These have been slowly replaced by deep creases. Creases have alot in common with belly buttons, in terms of collecting lint. Sam also collects lint in his thigh rolls and in the creases between his thigh and his dimply, peach-fuzzy butt. Basically there's alot of lint going on.

I'm just going to tell you one thing: You should probably not get in the pool with your digital camera. If you are a mother or a father, you might want to do this, and I won't hold it against you, even though i'm warning you. If your camera falls and gets a teeny bit wet on the bottom of the deep end, and you have to go to the store and buy a new one, and hypothetical things like this, well, you should not feel too bad. Being enthusiastic about creases is something I understand. That being said, I still tend to suggest not to get in the pool with your digital camera. Probably it's better to go ahead and put your child's hand in the mouth of a giant Doberman, and take that picture instead.

Grandpa Payne in GA

Fourth of July

Discoveries

Daddy's Home!

Nothing tops the moment when DADDY comes in the door!!!

Newspaper with Daddy

At four months, Sam can basically sit up (surrounded by pillows). So he and dad get special time together with their faces buried in the paper.

Ongoing Hair Issues

?????

First Car

Sam got his very first, pre-owned vehicle from the Hoffmanns. whooaaa! His reckless driving is causing traffic jams and fender-benders all over the house.

Carpet Time in the Lord

I am loathe to offend the Presbyterian and Baptist sensibilities of the Plueddemann and Savage families, but it appears that Sam was "predestined" to be... CHARISMATIC!! As you can see in the photo, he has already been slain in the spirit and spent some quality carpet time in the Lord.

It's hard to argue him out of his point of view since, at 4 and a half months of age, he insists on babbling in tongues. I've tried to explain to him that there is one door, and only one (and yet its sides are two), and that "everybody ought to know" this. But Sam will not hide his little pentacostal light under a bushel (no!). I believe that he is able, he's able (I know he's able) to turn, turn from such chrismatic mumbo jumbo and look up to the sky. Sam, like the Menonites, may never "march in the infantry, ride in the calvary, zoom 'or the enemy," but his faith is definately experiential (which is more than the mumbling Catholics or hair-sprayed Baptists can say for themselves). Like Zacchaeus, Sam is a wee little man, but there is certainly oil in his lamp, and this keeps him climbing sunshine mountain. The faith of our fathers (precious faith) is undergoing renovations, but there is within Sam's heart a melody that keeps him singing all day long. He would rather have Jesus than silver or gold and he's saved and he knows it (clap your hands, clapclap).

Ever the sunbeam for Jesus,

Misty Mountain Road

Mists hung in the forest and over the road. I rode in my snuggly blanket and made grouchy faces when branches dripped water in my face.

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.
~Bilbo Baggins

Fairhaven, TN

June 2006: Once upon a time this week, I went to a chalet at Fairhaven in the green mountatins of Tennessee.

We laid out on a blanket when it was warm with Freddie the Firefly. Mom tried to write. Mostly, I distracted her.

Sam

World Cup Soccer Widow

I'm lodging a complaint: I'm a "soccer widow." Danny, along with a total of perhaps 3 Americans, 5 Canadians, and the entire rest of the globe, is mesmerized by the World Cup. In this event, men of all citizenry dash sportily about a green field for 90 minutes chasing a small, checkered ball. The goal is to get the ball into a net the size of a whale. However, what these people do is get a whole set of other people to try and stop them from doing exactly this. Apparantly this is a thrill.

People pay exhorbitant amounts of money to go and watch this live--money which could otherwise be spent on the poor and needy, their wives, or baby formula. The only difference between one long, drawn out "match" and another is negligible: varying colour costumes. I know this is important because the cameras often zoom in on the shorts, which is a sneaky way of zooming in on some spectactular thigh musculature (statue of David eat your heart out). Personally, I would like to crawl behind the TV screen and simply PUT the ball INTO the net manually, so that we can all return to the Most Important Thing, which, of course, is Sam.

Here's a photo of Sam yesterday morning, June 10, 2006, during the England/Paraguay match. Sam is practicing his bicycle kick. What a clever boy. He's also wearing a colourful outfit which shows off his thighs -- thighs worth some media attention if it weren't for the $*!% World Cup.

Daily Ecstasies

The days around here are just packed full of exciting stuff like napping, nursing, pooping, gurgling and back to napping. Sam officially graduated to size 2 pampers this week and he's teething -- growth spurts at both ends. what a guy. :-)

2020 Olympiad

May 20: Well my friends, I need to let you know that Sam is able to roll on his side. He hasn't made it all the way to his tummy yet, but he can roll to his side. I am at a total loss for words at this stunning display of adroitness, as I'm sure are you. I only just caught it on film yesterday, and it's a bit blurry given the speed of the roll, but you can definitely see what he's up to. Clearly, we are going to have to come to terms with the fact that Sam is an Olympian. I certainly can't imagine how else to interpret his prowess.

Feet to Cheek

Driving to Heaven

Dear Sam, I hope you can grow up to be like Uncle Steve.
Love, Mom

Steve Beacham traveled in four modes of transportation during the final year of his journey on earth. First it was in a hostel van crammed with Hillcrest students in Nigeria heading for a soccer match, a Bible class, a fishing trip, or a cliff-jumping adventure.

His second mode of transportation was an airplane to the United States in April 2004 for his daughter’s college graduation. While there, he discovered the colon cancer which had metastasized into the liver. Awaiting him now was a different mode of transportation: a roller coaster of horrendous emotional and physical proportions. Fueling up with chemotherapy, he and his wife, Beaj, traveled from the frightening depths of a rare liver surgery to the soaring heights of remission. Learning patience and perseverance, they shook the shallow and went deep with Jesus through suffering. But it wasn’t till March 17 that Steve got the ride of his LIFE: We think it was a chariot! Steve drove to Heaven, literally. En route to a doctor’s appointment, a sudden natural event took him home in an instant.

Three days earlier Steve had written in his prayer journal: "Lord, thanks for the reminder that we are really foreigners here - this is your planet and we are just caretakers for a short time! Help me keep that perspective and to remember where my REAL home is!!"

A week after his death, on the eve of his daughter’s wedding, a memorial took place. It seemed impossible that such a combination of events could unfold for one family – an agonizing adieu and a blissful beginning; two ceremonies side-by-side to mark monumental life stages.

Earlier in March Steve wrote, "OH LORD!! Take hold of my hands and bring me back from death to LIFE!! You know I want to be healed, Lord, and I beg you to do that. But also complete or at least continue the refining process you have begun!! Then use me as you see fit to bring ultimate GLORY to YOU!!"

Glory indeed. Five hundred friends, family, former students and colleagues arrived from across North America to say goodbye to this awesome man, and witness the awesome glory of God reflected from his life. The memorial lasted four hours and continued late into the night for many who gathered at other venues.

Steve traveled in four modes of transportation: a van crammed with young people into whom he sacrificially poured his life, a plane that carried him cross-culturally to serve where Jesus led him, a rollercoaster of suffering where his faith and that of his family was severely tested, and if you will permit the imaginative faith, a chariot!

Steve died in full momentum. He didn’t brake, downshift, or pull over. He didn’t detour, miss a turn, or take a pit stop. He died at the wheel, roaring full throttle towards Jesus. The rest of us couldn’t keep up, but as one of his former students said, “It was just like Coaché to beat the team there!”

Beaj!

Sam meets my adopted mom, Beaj, before she heads back to Nigeria. She's been here a couple years while her husband and our favorite Coaché fought cancer. He died suddenly in March 2005. His memorial took place a few days later, followed by his daughter's wedding. I hope Sam can grow up to be alot like Uncle Steve!!!

Overture in Feet Minor

In case you haven't seen a miracle yet today, I thought I would show you Sam's feet. No, you cannot eat them. I know you would like to. sorry.

Passing Gas without Waking Up

zzzzzzz








prrbbbt








zzzzzzz

Uncle Shawn's Favorite Thing

If there's one thing Uncle Shawn can't stand in the whole world, it's baby spit up. It gives him the heeby-jeebies and sends him into fits of dry heaving. This is why Sam carefully timed his spitting up for the moment he was comfortably seated with Uncle Shawn. Unfortunately, Sam nearly got flung across the field as Uncle Shawn leapt into spasms of revultion. Good thing Bono was there to lick it up. Nice job, Sam.

Chess

As Sam watches a chess game unfold between his grandfather and cousin, he begins to piece together that one of the two players exhibits quantity conservation, an attribute which the opponent has temporarily lost--probably due to an overdependence on perceptual strategies. The game reveals that males can still be equipped with certain qualities for cognitive operations, even though overall quantity conservation is not a basic characteristic of their native inheritance. This conclusion firmly in mind, Sam tries another experiment: he smacks the chess board and sends all the pieces flying.

Winner: SAM!!!!

Sam's Grandpa

Youthful Sam looks up to his Grandpa, an activity which quickly puts him to sleep.

Sam the Soccer Fan

Sam watches Cara score goal after goal. :-)

Cousins Josh & Cara

Sam's cousins in Chicago love him very much. They are adopted from Sodo, Ethiopia. Josh claims that he named Sam because he guessed his name a few days before Sam was born.

Easter in Chicago

Sam traveled to West Chicago for Easter!!! Grandpa Jim sang constantly to Sam, "A sunbeam, a sunbeam, Jesus wants Sam for a sunbeam..." One of the disgusting traits which Sam and his grandfather share is that they are "sunbeams" at, oh, 5 a.m. On the other hand, I am a beautiful "moonbeam," and its scandalous that there are no songs for me.

Papi also sang, "I love to laugh... HAHAHAHA... looooong, and LOUD and clear." (Mary Poppins) But the best was, "Don't let Satan whoosh it out." Sam loved the whooshing which meant he got blown in the face.

Sam's great-grandfather and great-grandmother sang on the radio every day for many years in Ecuador. Great-Grandpa Savage composed many songs in Spanish and transcribed still more from English to Spanish, which are still sung today.

Moving House

April 2006: At 10 weeks old, Sam is already experiencing a mobile lifestyle, though not on the scale of continents as both his parents did. Instead, he moved only 5 miles away. He was very sad to leave behind the only home he had ever known on 18th Street. He now lives in a stucco house with tons of space and a great patio out back.

Tummy Time, Take 2

hmmmmm.

Tummy Time

Everybody says Sammy's supposed to have tummy time. "30 minutes a day!," says the doctor. "10 minutes in the a.m. and p.m." say the books. This is meant to strengthen his neck muscles so he can lift his head.

Sammy does not like tummy time. After 10 seconds, it becomes tantrum time.

I thought to myself, I don't know any healthy child in the world who failed to learn to lift his head. Screw tummy time. Lets have a good time.

The Thinker

As I am enjoying my 3^rd month of ex-utero life (having been around for approximately 1 year from single cell), I must ask myself: how is it that I already know so much?

Fortunately I have copious amounts of leisure time to tackle developmental psychology and genetic epistemology. Today I have come to the realization that the growth of my knowledge is nothing more than the progressive construction of logically embedded structures superseding one another by a process of inclusion of lower less powerful logical means into higher and more powerful ones up to maturity. Therefore, my logic and modes of thinking are entirely different from those of adults, not to mention those of Tigger, whose epistomological assimilation never burst the bounds of bouncing. O gosh, I have an itchy ear again.

What a Man Must Do

A man must do 3 things in his life: plant a tree, write a book, have a son.

Danny heard that saying when he lived in Bolivia. I think he would like to add a fourth: love a dog.

So here's Dan the Man with his son and his dog.

Rich and Scotty

Danny's college roommates Rich (and Marta) and Scotty (and Lisa).

Sam's First Summit

Sammy climbed his first summit this weekend at barely 9 weeks old. I can tell that Sam's going to be a rugged outdoorsman just as soon as he stops napping most of the way.

In related news, he weighs in at 14 lbs and 2 ft long. If you talk to him, he smiles now. Isn't that great. :-)

Sam's Cambodia Cousins

Sam's other cousins live in Phnom Penn, Cambodia. They are Leanna, Tabitha, and Titus. My brother, Talmage, is married to Finn.

Sam has never met these cousins because Sam hasn't been to Cambodia which is 10,000 miles away, which is not a trip we have been able to squeeze in between nap times.

Myrna

Myrna is Sam's cousin who is 2 years old. She loves to come to our house and wash her hands in our sinks. Sometimes she pats Sam, but frankly, he's not as interesting to her as the sinks, water, and soap.

Danny's Birthday: March 21, 2006

Papi wrote on Danny's 35th birthday:

Danny Paul:

We thank Jesus for your birth every day of the year. The whole world changed for us and for you on March 21, 1971 at Evangel Hospital in Jos, Nigeria. Now that you have Sammy, you have some idea how excited we were when you came into this world. We couldn't love you more, but Jesus loves you even more.

The check is in the mail.

p.s. Sammy looks exactly like Danny did when he was born. The photo is of Sam at 5 days old.

Bathtime

Sam turned 7 weeks old yesterday. :-) He also experienced his very first bath. He wasn't one bit dirty; nevertheless, what kind of lousy mother would wait 7 weeks and two days to bathe their child?? Not me! I'm way more ahead of the game than that.

I put Sam in his new blue tub only after testing the water temperature exactly one million times. Sam clenched up his toes something ferocious at the feel of the water . After a minute or two--during which time i watched anxiously to see if he would die, which he did not--he began to jerk his limbs and make gurgly sounds, which I took to mean that he loves me very much and was keen on experiencing the bath.

Then I drizzled Johnson & Johnson babywash all over his plump pastry-donut body. I glazed him. He made cooing noises and kept turning his head towards the sound of the water. Danny took lots of pictures which will be embarrassing for Sam some day. The only time Sam got frustrated was when I tried to dig the lint out of his armpits. No more lint for Sam.

When it was almost over, Sam peed strait up in the air. The height of the arc made Danny proud. Then he urped up on himself. Both of these bodily events were discouraging for me, what with my having just painstakingly washed him for his very first time. I can see that Sam and I are going to have some differences. But I forgave him because he is soft and warm like brownies that have been cooling but are still warm inside your mouth.

Then I lifted him very carefully into a big towel and rubbed him in little circular motions till he was soft and fuzzy like a peach. I massaged his scalp and kissed him for a while and he made conversational squeeky noises back at me. Then I put him in his "jammies" and he fell fast asleep. Isn't that a nice story? It really happened. Happy 7-week Birthday, Sam.

Dad Babysits?

Baby + Doberman + Ipod + Business Weekly + Coffee = BABYSITTING