A hot air balloon on a tether

Last Friday, for the second time in my life (the first being spring break of my senior year of college), I had to scrape snow off of my car before hopping in and heading for the beach.  The reason for this wintry trip to Rehoboth: a weekend-long retreat for the Volunteer Corps program that I help to coordinate through church.

There is something inherently compelling about being in a vacation town during the off season.  Quiet, uncluttered streets and open stretches of beach lend themselves to getting lost in thought.  True local businesses hum reliably along like beacons in stalwart relief to the blocks full of shuttered boardwalk kiosks and tourist traps.  The only other group of any size I saw was there for the annual Polar Bear Plunge, which happened to coincide with our visit.

It was against this backdrop that we gathered for a weekend of camaraderie and conversation.  The volunteers (five recent college graduates that the church houses for a year and sets up with assorted non-profit agencies in DC) developed an agenda around the theme of shared wisdom and life lessons for twenty-somethings.  Through this framework, we discussed accomplishments, regrets, and the milestones and decisions that have shaped our lives.

Aside from the chance to spend time with a fun group of people (I learned a new game, called Fishbowl, and got to play Mafia for the first time since college!), what I appreciated most about the weekend was the chance for meaningful reflection.  Occasional windbagging sessions with Maggie aside, I rarely take the time to ponder some of the big-picture issues and decisions that impact my life in such a thoughtful way, let alone benefit from the perspectives of others.  Often, when I think about these things, it is by way of worrying.  Stepping back a little was refreshing.

Some of the other things that will stick with me:

When describing his natural inclination to be adventurous and see the world, one person compared his mom and dad's parenting style to a hot air balloon on a tether.  They gave him the space to explore and grow, but helped to keep him grounded and tied to home and family.  For whatever reason, I thought that was enormously profound, particularly as he noted how he struggles to strike the same balance with his own kids.

In a room full of Ph.Ds, fellows at major think tanks, and assorted other decorated big-wigs, many people turned first to relationships with family and friends when discussing their proudest accomplishments.

Spirituality is defined differently by many people, but is, at root, tied to personal growth.

All in all a great weekend.  I've struggled quite a bit with how church fits in my life over the past few years, but this retreat, as a manifestation of the sense of grounding and support that I value and a jumping off point for thoughtful reflection, was pretty close to perfect.

Democracy, alive and well

With less fanfare and significantly fewer tears than in 2008, I walked the two blocks from my house to the neighborhood school that doubles as my polling station.  As the chilly, 7:30 am sun crept higher in the sky, a long line of residents in DC's Ward 4 gathered to vote.  Over an hour and a half later, my warm winter coat, hat, gloves, and scarf could not keep my toes from going numb (nor could they prevent the parking ticket that appeared on the windshield my car for "failure to properly affix registration stickers").

On a day when Nate Silver makes dizzyingly positive predictions about the national election and when I learned, to my great relief, that my mom voted in favor of same sex marriage in Maryland, it is difficult not to feel optimistic about the possibilities to come. No matter who prevails tonight, however, I simply hope that he leads our citizens forth to success, security, and opportunity; that he projects humility, confidence, and intellectual curiosity; and that he conducts our foreign affairs in a way that earns the respect and admiration of the world.

My feet are still cold, but I feel great.  Like the broad cross section of society present at the polls this morning, I proudly took part in the most important of civic duties.  That alone is reason to smile.

An early spring

It is now officially spring, though, judging by the weather, winter checked out sometime around the end of February.  Aside from the occasional rainstorm, we have had three weeks of nearly perfect weather.  I can't remember the last time that's happened, in any season.

Despite the apparently nasty, cascading ecological consequences of a warm, nearly snowless winter, I am basking in it for the moment.  And, in our backyard, the lack of cold has had a bonus effect on last year's garden: the parsley, arugula and rosemary survived and are now thriving in all of their spring glory.

Our rosemary has actually survived a couple years now - I think it is quite hardy, though its size is limited by the shallow window box that it calls home.  But parsley is not supposed to be a year-round plant.  I should not be able to walk out the backdoor with a dusting of snow on the ground in January and fetch a handful of fresh parsley to garnish a pot of lentil soup.  Yet I cooked with it throughout the winter and here it is, standing tall and approaching bush-like vitality in March.  Let's see if my brown thumb can keep it alive through the actual growing season.

Parsley: Too Bushy for March

Organized chaos

Unfortunately, I don’t often have the opportunity to listen to Public Radio International’s The World, which airs locally Monday - Thursday on WAMU at 8 pm.  The program features an hour of in depth reporting about global topics – both current events and interest pieces, like NPR’s newsmagazines.  I try to tune in when I’m alone at home, often while making and eating dinner.

Last night’s broadcast featured a brief profile of a new art form springing up in post-revolution Tunisia called collaborative painting.  One artist starts a painting, and up to five others join in.  Anyone can jump in at any time, and all are free to paint over anything that has already been painted.  Described in the piece as organized chaos, the exercise often results in a work of art that could have easily been produced by a sole artist.  This ability of an organically evolving group effort to mimic the talent of an individual is fascinating.

Over the past several days, I’ve been reconsidering my desire to go to Egypt, Jordan, and Israel next spring or fall in favor of a possible trip to Tunisia.  That swing through the Middle East is still exceptionally appealing, but Egypt has some significant issues to work out related to the role of the military in civilian government that seem farther from resolution than I thought and some suggest that Jordan may be teetering on the brink.  Tunisia, on the other hand, held laudably open and non-violent elections last month.

I do not fear traveling to countries working through the aftermath of the Arab Spring and, indeed, am doubly excited by the prospect of observing the birth and growing pains of fresh democracy.  Ongoing violence and civil unrest, however, is likely best avoided.

Drawing with crayons on eggs

Managed to find some time this afternoon, in between church, the farmers' market, mowing the lawn, and preparing for family dinner to indulge in an Easter favorite of mine: dyeing eggs.  I particularly like drawing on them with crayon beforehand (so much so that I made a special trip to CVS to buy a pack of Crayolas for almost $3), because of all of the creativity it inspires.

Until relatively recently, I lacked the context to celebrate Easter for religious reasons.  Dyeing eggs has always featured prominently in my understanding of this holiday and it continues to do so.  I find it comfortingly childish and, admittedly, really fun.  Moreover, the bright colors and happy spirit of the whole exercise seems in keeping with everyone's joyful mood on this day.  The challenge now, I guess, will be to eat a dozen hard boiled eggs in the next few days before they go bad.

Happy Easter!

A busy March

I've had a hectic month, with several deadlines at work and commitments on the weekends.  The world has been busy lately too, and I've been following the events of the Middle East, North Africa, and Japan with a mixture of awe, sadness, and fascination.  I want to put voice to some of these thoughts, and hope to in the coming days.  But first, an update on my own adventures.

I just got back from a long weekend in Ireland.  Reminiscent of my 2009 jaunt to Germany, this trip cropped up very quickly.  Spurred by a cheap plane ticket and the flexibility of having just finished a project at work, I booked the trip a mere week before leaving.  After some hectic, cursory planning and a serendipitous encounter at a DC bar, Jimmy, Dan, Dave, and I set off for Ireland.

Our first stop was Belfast, the largest city in the North, which is still a part of the United Kingdom but, after many years of discord and violence, is largely at peace with the Republic of Ireland in the south.  Similar to Berlin and Dresden, Belfast is packed with very interesting, recent history.  It is also a lively, young city, with a large university and eclectic restaurants near our hostel.

While there, we took a black cab tour of the sectarian neighborhoods to learn more about the political history of the region.  Our driver, Bobby, showed us several murals, some more recent than others, and the 5 km long, 11 m high peace wall, which still divides the Catholic neighborhoods from the Protestant ones and helps to ensure that no small incident sparks a renewed escalation of tensions.

I often think about religion's place in world history, and how much strife it seems to have caused.  But I'm not convinced that blaming religion is the answer.  Granted, religion represents a powerful aspect of life over which to disagree, but The Troubles in Ireland were as much about nationalism as they were faith.  People, particularly when confronted with intolerant leaders, are remarkably good at finding reasons to dislike others for their differences.  It is important, then, that we constantly work to control the darker sides of our human nature and embrace the things that bring us together, rather than tear us apart.  Things like... Guinness.

We did lots of sampling of Guinness in a wide variety of friendly pubs, warm with richly colored wood and occasional live music.  Before leaving Belfast, we rented a car and drove (again, on the wrong side of the road) around the northern Antrim Coast, viewing small towns, nature, a castle, a scary rope bridge, and lots of spray painted sheep.  In Dublin, we hit most of the main tourist destinations and did a lot of walking, as evidenced by my still-achy legs.

Maybe my favorite thing about the trip, though, was the time spent with good friends.  I really do enjoy traveling alone, especially for the chance to set my own pace and take photos without holding anyone up.  But there is nothing better than cherishing the company of people you like - gathered around a comfy pub table, crammed into a small European rental car, hiking over rolling green hills - together laughing and exploring the wonders of an unfamiliar place.

Dim sum for lunch and dinner

Well, you know there's something wrong when you've eaten all three of the day's meals at your desk at work.  On the bright side, two of those meals were made up of my mom's homemade char siu baos (baked this time, as opposed to steamed).  Delicious, particularly when punctuated with homemade cookies, which she also sent in today as a Valentine's Day gift.  Something else to learn how to cook, at some point...

Another narrow miss

Here we go again.  Last summer, buffeted by driving wind and rain, a large limb fell from our (former) neighbor Marketa's tree, crushing the fence and pinning a telephone wire in our yard.  After resting there for weeks (months?), we finally used a chainsaw to turn it into firewood.

Wednesday evening, bogged down by wet, heavy snow, a tree fell from our other neighbor's property onto ours, demolishing the roof of a third neighbor's shed, tangling another telephone wire, and doing as yet undetermined damage to our holly tree.  We're lucky it didn't fall differently, though, since it could have very easily wound up destroying someone's bedroom.  Since we have never met the people who live in that house and it seems too large and dangerous to tackle ourselves, there is no telling how long this huge tree will be in our yard.

At least we'll have no shortage of firewood.

Hello, world

So I bought a computer the other day, which means I am now able to do things that I haven't been able to do (easily, at least) in a long time: look at facebook, sit on my bed and check my email, organize my pictures/music/thoughts, and, of course, keep up with this blog.  So I am going to be better about that.

There are a lot of exciting things to play with on this new computer.  What background will I choose?  When will I get to try out the video chat plug-in I just downloaded?  How long will it take to sort all of my photos and restore my music collection?  Also: the letters on the keyboard light up.  Very, very cool.

Time to watch the state of the union address.  I'm hoping it'll make me feel better about politics, but I doubt it.

Update - Just finished watching.  I shouldn't have doubted Obama's ability to deliver an uplifting speech.  There is a lot that is still upsetting about the political atmosphere, but it helps to be reminded once in awhile of some of the just, worthwhile things that this administration has accomplished and that, at heart, our country represents.

Look both ways

Last night on the way home from work, I nearly struck a pedestrian. Shortly after turning onto 16th St. from Georgia Ave., I noticed a woman jogging on the right sidewalk. I was in the left lane and had a green light, so I thought nothing of this and continued driving. The next thing I knew, there was a gray sweatshirt in front of my car and I was slamming on the brakes and blindly swerving into the lane next to me. After nearly causing an accident, this hooded women had the audacity to glare at me. Had my window been open, I would've screamed something rude.

Feeling shaken up about this when I got home, I decided to go running myself (in a gray shirt, no less). I've actually been jogging a lot lately, since we've had such nice weather this fall. Growing up, I always thought I hated jogging. Sprinting over short distances to beat my cousins at races was one thing, but sustained exertion was always quite another. But these past couple months, I've discovered that I like it a lot more than I ever thought I could.

For one thing, it's nice to know that I'm getting some exercise. It's probably been about a decade since I last had any sort of regular physical exertion in my life. Combined with my love of food, I know how unhealthy that lifestyle is. Long term health benefits aside, exercise also just makes me feel good. Part of this might be endorphins, but I think a lot of it is mental too.

Another aspect of running that I've come to appreciate is the rhythm. Building a jog into my daily schedule provides another familiar wrinkle to my routine, even if I don't choose to run every evening. Beyond that, the physical act of jogging - feet pounding on the sidewalk, heavy breathing - is soothing. I often find myself turning this sounds into a pattern in my mind, repeating the same couple bars of a song that's stuck in my head. All of this is very conducive to uninterrupted thinking, much like driving with the radio off.

What might appeal to me most about running, though, is the sense of exploration associated with it. Maggie and I used to talk about how envious we were of our friend Tom for being able to just trot around for miles and see new places at will. Even though I barely jog for more than a mile, and almost always take the same route through the neighborhood, I've started to feel hints of this. Running after work, I'm occasionally treated to the savory scent of dinner wafting from the windows of houses. As I pass people and trees and schools on the sidewalk, my mind is constantly stimulated: "That's a friendly looking dog." "I'd hate to have to mow that lawn." "Those leaves are a really nice color." Jogging is freeing.

As the weather gets colder, I'm not sure if I can keep up the habit. I'd certainly like to, and if I can manage to jog semi-regularly over the winter, I've promised myself new running sneakers next spring. I'm having fun doing something healthy. And, despite my gray tshirt in the dusk, I am always careful not to dart out in front of oncoming traffic.

Brown thumb

From a young age, I’ve been rather fascinated by raising plants. A plant is, in some ways, like an inanimate pet. Properly nurtured, it grows and thrives.

Despite this enthusiasm, I have never really been very good at keeping my plants alive. My first potted plant - a unique looking combination of rounded, waxy looking leaves, soft, cactus-y growth, and little red flowers – sat atop the bookshelf in my north-facing bedroom. Without sufficient sunlight, the cactus-looking part of it immediately died and the rest of it remained a dull shade of olive for years, cascading over the lip of the pot and shedding dried leaves onto my unvacuumed floor.

The next plant in my life, an evergreen sapling brought home from school on Earth Day in 4th grade, swiftly succumbed to the lawn mower. In college, I had to send two successive Ikea plants home due to lack of sunlight – Akimbo and Charlie. Luckily both recovered, and Charlie now adorns my sun-drenched bookshelf.

Recovery at the hands of my dad is a common theme for my plants. Growing up, I germinated a lemon seed in a plastic cup lined with a wet paper towel (a trick I have attempted to recreate, unsuccessfully, many times since). It has since grown into a tall, skinny lemon tree, kept indoors and incapable of bearing fruit because of the Maryland climate. But, if you rub your fingers against its leaves, it smells like lemons!

Ignoring past failures, I decided this spring that I very much wanted to grow a basil plant. Dreams of a summer filled with homemade pesto and caprese salad spurred me to buy a packet of seeds. In early May, I filled a pot with soil, stuck in the seeds (ignoring instructions on proper spacing), added some water and set it in front of a window to grow.

At first, my basil seemed to be doing quite well. Dozens of little green sproutlets sprung out of the dirt, growing taller every day. I went to Germany feeling quite satisfied with myself, sure of the fact that we would be enjoying freshly picked basil by June. But the plant stopped growing. The shoots began to wither and die, and continued to do so all summer. Now, a whopping four and a half months after planting, only one sprig of basil remains. It is about two inches tall, and has maybe three small leaves. On the bright side, it seems to be growing, which leads me to believe that maybe the packet was right about needing several inches in between each plant. In the meantime, however, we’ve still been buying $4 packets of basil at the store.

Uncowed, Steve and I have already begun to discuss plans for next spring. We have a couple planter boxes for our deck’s railing at home, and I’ve been thinking that they would look awfully good adorned with a host of fresh herbs. Why stop at basil when you could have mint and dill too? To solve the pesky problem of my brown thumb, we’ll buy pre-grown baby plants from the farmers’ market in early spring. And give them plenty of space to expand. And lots of sunshine and water. And maybe, just maybe, next summer I’ll have a success story to share.

Is that an airplane?

My rate of blogging has been rather tepid this summer, but I'm making a concerted effort to post more frequently. By recently re-examining the reasons I enjoy keeping a blog, I hoped to reawaken some of the novelty that inspired me to post almost every day last fall. Another tactic: fresh design.

I've been toying with the idea of freshening the look of my blog for awhile. Aside from a couple minor changes, it has featured the most basic, pre-packaged default color scheme available. Though this means the page can look somewhat bland, particularly when compared to the many other blogs that look the same, the simplicity of the colors is also what appeals to me. So, for now, rather than dramatically alter the design of the blog, I've added a new title block. I like it so far, but maybe I'll make more changes later.

I have a lot of topics that I'd like to write about in the coming weeks - healthcare reform, being two (plus) years out of college, summer in the D.C., the nagging desire to travel this October, the impact of seemingly small decisions on our lives... Unfortunately, several of these ideas have been lingering in the back of my mind for months, prevented by laziness from taking shape. But I'm going to try!

How I've spent June so far

I've been too busy at work lately to write blog postings, and I'm still too busy. But it's late now, and I have several things I've been meaning to get down. I generally consider my bulleted list postings to be cop-outs, but in this case it'll do.

• The recent Air France plane crash really bothered me. Maybe because I had just taken a long, trans-Atlantic flight myself or maybe because my sister is in Denmark right now. Either way, I found that I was unusually moved by thinking about all of the people on that flight. News coverage so often turns casualties into mere numbers, allowing us to escape the full weight of the tragedy.
  
  Each of those 228 dead people has a distinct life story and, in the days following the crash, I found myself pondering the faces and brief (sometimes imagined) descriptions of some of the passengers aboard my Lufthansa flight: Birgitte, the #2 flight attendant with dyed orange hair, the disagreeable fat man whose personal video screen was broken, the kid in the row in front of me who spent the entire flight feeling sick, the Indian woman with digestive troubles who took frequent trips to the bathroom and seeped unpleasant fumes from the folds of her sari, the guy from Thailand sitting next to me who borrowed my pen to fill out the customs form. All of these people have families and dynamic lives, as did everyone on that Air France jet. Every time something forces me to remember this deep sense of humanity, reading the news gets a lot sadder.
  
  
• I've been out of college now for more than two years. An extensive posting on this topic to come.
  
  
• Although I generally believe in most of what Barack Obama says and does, I am getting increasingly worried about the skyrocketing budget deficits. I agree wholeheartedly that healthcare needs a lot of fixing and understand that all of the bailouts are needed to avoid disaster. But it still makes me uncomfortable, both because huge deficits are, in the long run, a bad idea and because I can hear the Republican attack ads already.
  
  
• On Friday I smoked a (Cuban) cigar for the first time. Saturday morning I threw up. And now, on Monday, my voice is still hoarse.
  
  
• If I allow myself to think too hard about 2009 being halfway over, I get somewhat existentially depressed.
  
  
• I recently became briefly fed up with church, but have since decided I was overreacting. The church picnic this past Sunday was great, although I think 11:30 am is too early in the morning to have eaten a sloppy joe, a hot dog, mac n cheese, salad, baked beans, a pickle, 2 slices of watermelon, and Snickers ice cream bar. Watching all of the kids play made me wish (for the umpteenth time) that I'd had the opportunity to experience all of this while growing up.

That's all I can think of right now. I'm hungry and probably too distracted to get any more work done, so I think I'll go home.

Using chop sticks in Berlin

I arrived in Berlin this morning, and set about the task of finding my hostel, Circus. Rick was not particularly helpful, but luckily I had copied down directions from the hostel's website and was able to follow them without too much trouble. At least Rick's maps didn't actively confuse me, like they did in Dresden.

After checking in, I explored a little bit this afternoon, walking all the way down Unter den Linden, the main drag through old East Berlin. I passed by it all pretty quickly and saw the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag. Tomorrow I think I'll do one of the organized walking tours, so I thought that today I would just roam around at will.

First impressions of Berlin are pretty positive. It's immediately obvious that this city dwarfs all of the others that I've visited this trip, both in size and the humming vibe of activity. There are people everywhere, and it feels very international. Most excitingly, this is reflected in the food. I had a delicious meal at a Vietnamese place tonight. Sitting outside eating soup and yellow curry chicken with coconut milk was a nice change from sausages and sauerkraut and schnitzels. And, perhaps most importantly, this tasty food went quite well with dunkles beer too.

A random aside: this morning, in Dresden, I decided that I could not wait another day before doing laundry. So I headed to a laundromat and puzzled through the German instructions. It was drizzling outside and there were about 400 lost socks hanging from the ceiling. I was listening to my ipod and watching my clothes bounce around in circles in the dryer. As much as I normally hate doing laundry, I don't think I would've wanted to spend the morning any other way.

My life in the Neustadt

I've been doing a lot of moving around the past couple of days. Yesterday morning, I left Munich, which I was kind of sad to do. Munich was a great, well-rounded city. It had a lot of beautiful, historic buildings in the Old Town, along with a vibrant, but manageable "real" area. There were several convenient nearby day trips. My hostel was within easy walking distance of both the sights and the train station, not to mention at least five Döner Kebab shops. I met a lot of people, both in the hostel and walking around with Rick. And the staff at Wombat's Hostel was fantastic - extremely friendly and helpful. It made me feel very welcome there.

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon and night in Rothenburg ob der Tauber, a well preserved medieval village. Rick warned that it was going to be painfully touristy, but I didn't find this to be the case at all. The streets were fairly quiet, and I really enjoyed photographing my way through the town. I stayed at a guest house called Pension Elke, run by a charming old man and his son, who also run the family grocery store down below. It was neat to stay in my own room, and a nice change from the hostels. This place was centrally located to the main town square. In fact, the facade of the store was even visible in one of the postcards I bought.

Today I took a long, early train ride to Dresden. I like it a lot so far. There are a good number of tourists roaming around in the Old Town, but it seems like most of them are other Europeans. My hostel is located in the Neustadt (new town) area, which is a lot more "real people" oriented. Architecturally, these buildings were mostly undamaged by the WWII Allied firebombing, so they're authentic (and many are covered in graffiti). There are also random, blocky communist buildings mixed in all over the place - relics from East Germany. I did some afternoon roaming and had a tasty dinner (and a liter of dark, delicious beer), but I'm looking forward to more sightseeing tomorrow. The history of this city really, really fascinates me.

Traveling alone has been ok so far. I actually prefer it in some ways, since I can do absolutely whatever I feel like at any point in time and there is no one to get exasperated with my constant picture-taking. In other cases, though, especially for dinner and beer, it would be nice to have a friend along. There are a lot of really cool looking bars here in the Neustadt. It would be fun to go out tonight. Maybe I'll meet someone at the hostel...

München on Bavarian pretzels and beer

So here's a quick internet cafe update on my life in Deutschland:

• It is no joke, German beer is delicious
• Big soft pretzels in Bavaria are also the real deal
• I have chatted extensively with four sets of people (making perhaps three potentially lasting friendships) based almost solely on the topic of Rick Steves
• Being spontaneous is working out pretty well, except that i may need to try to reserve hostels farther in advance. Last night I got stuck sleeping in an expensive hotel
  

Time is running out here, I'll write more later. Having a great time.

My next adventure

I've been toying with the idea of traveling this summer for awhile. Initially I was determined to save money for future trips by not taking a long vacation. But a couple months ago I heard a story on NPR about how the cost of airline tickets has been plummeting, and it's been a swift tumble downhill from there.

It wasn't long before I had decided that plane tickets were so cheap that there was no way I could realistically justify not taking a trip. So I checked out about eight travel guides from the library and set about trying to find a destination and a buddy. Although I strongly considered Asia (you can get just about anywhere right now for under $1000!), monsoon season and the desire to take advantage of cheap May airfare convinced me to look to Europe. Since no one was able to come with me, I picked Germany.

Germany has actually never been on the top of my list of places to visit, but the more I read about it, the more I like it. There are castles and beer everywhere, which sounds pretty good to me. It's also close to Switzerland and Scandinavia, which are both on my list. So maybe some cross-border hopping will be in order. The venerable and hilarious Rick Steves has a book on Germany, which guarantees that I'll never be short on cheesy, witty observations and local history. Mostly, though, I think I was attracted to the $375 round trip tickets that kept popping up on kayak.com. So I'm going, alone, in 11 days.

I've never really taken a trip like this alone before. My parents are both convinced that I'll hate it. It's true, I think, that enjoying food and "biergartens" would be much more enjoyable with a friend. But I've actually always kind of been fascinated by traveling by myself. Part of it may be that lingering urge to pick up and do something spontaneous and different. Or maybe I like the idea that I'll have a lot of cool looking pictures to share afterwards that no one else will have seen yet. Certainly traveling solo allows me the flexibility to do whatever I want every day. I'm even considering not booking all of my hostels, so that I can roam on whim (so long as I make my way to Berlin the afternoon of May 25th to catch the flight home).

I hope that, journal and camera in hand and Rick-mandated money belt strapped around my waist, I'll really enjoy the experience. And if I hate it, then at least the ticket was cheap.

Skip 'em

Several months ago, I wrote at length about my confusion surrounding the place of spirituality in my life. Without a definitive upbringing to serve as framework, I argued, it has always been exceptionally difficult to feel at ease with religion. I traced this discomfort to a lack of knowledge on my part. Indeed, save one visit to my neighbor’s youth group, a couple of weddings, and touring a number of magnificent cathedrals abroad, I had never really even been inside a church before, let alone experienced a worship service.

This changed, however, in early January. Joe accepted an invitation to sing with a local church’s choir around Christmastime. Though he didn’t at first intend to join the choir permanently, he liked it so much that he decided to continue. Considering our typical Saturday night activities, committing to waking up at 8:00 every Sunday morning is a pretty big deal. We spoke a bit about it and, despite not knowing what to expect (or even what denomination the church was), I was curious enough to join him one weekend.

Since Joe had to don his robe and prepare to sing, I stood alone for awhile in the front entryway (what I would later learn is called the narthex). Unsure what to do, I feigned intense interest in studying the bulletin boards and artwork on the walls. Fortunately, Maryn and Janet, two older women, approached me to say hello. They were exceptionally welcoming, as was everyone else I met that first day – John, the retired Foreign Service employee, Shirley, the perky member of one of the church’s many committees, and Leon, choir stalwart and husband of Maryn. I observed at least four separate people come up and welcome a very old man back, presumably from an extended illness that had prevented him from coming to church. Even at first glance, the community seemed so closely knit – it says a lot that people know each other well enough to have immediately recognized a stranger in their midst. It says even more, I’d contend, that they actively sought to welcome that stranger with open arms.

For that reason alone, I think, I would’ve come back. But the rest of the service was great too, though a little bewildering to my uninitiated senses. During the passing of the peace, for instance, people rise from their seats and warmly greet just about everyone within handshaking distance. “Children’s time” dumbs down the preceding scripture reading to help all of the young kids (and me) better understand it and relate it to their lives. The hymns are kind of fun to sing and the wide variety of music is beautiful. And Rich Smith, the reverend, delivers a great sermon. He’s not overly preachy and is able to realistically relate the scripture to current events and modern, daily life. In fact, on that first Sunday (days before Inauguration), he titled his sermon “An Open Letter to President Barack Obama.”

Over the following few months, I’ve attended services regularly and come to know much more about Westmoreland Congregational United Church of Christ. The UCC has evolved over time from the merger of several Protestant denominations. It is run from the bottom-up, with individual congregations suggesting changes in policy, which are then voted on by an annual conference of representatives. Subsequently, each local congregation is independently able to vote on whether or not to accept these changes. For example, several years ago the UCC voted to recognize same-sex marriages. Westmoreland, in turn, democratically decided to embrace this and become an “open and affirming congregation.” There are surely other local branches of the UCC that chose not to take this step.

I greatly respect this emphasis on individuality. One of the things that has always bothered me about organized religion is the perception that many church-going people are like parrots, repeating verbatim what is written in the Bible. Rather than apply religious teachings to their lives, they allow the church to dictate their views, seemingly without room for dissenting thought.

This is not the case at Westmoreland. Rev. Bob Maddox, who treated me to dinner a few weeks ago, helped me to understand this better. He told me that there are plenty of old traditions at the church, but that the congregation has kept them alive because people enjoy them, not because anyone from the national UCC has declared that it should be so. We were discussing the possibility of me formally joining the church, and being baptized. (Having come from a background as a Baptist minister, Bob was quite excited by this). I was concerned that I might be acting hypocritically – that my enthusiasm for the church community would be somehow cheapened by my uncertainty regarding my internal beliefs about religion.

Bob was quick to reassure me. Westmoreland, he explained, has no creed that its members are required to recite. The Bible, to him, is much more a book about ancient interpretations of God’s teachings than an inflexible doctrine, passed down directly from God Himself. To lack certainty and understanding is natural. Bob promised me that I was not alone in this. Further, he suggested that I use aspects of religion that baffle me as the impetus for greater personal exploration. And his advice regarding parts of the Bible that seem outmoded or don’t sit well with me? “Skip ‘em.”

In a lot of ways, that is all I’m looking for in religion – a supportive source of grounding and stability that makes no judgments about my past or future beliefs. This experience shouldn’t be unpleasant or exclusive – without growing up with a religious background, why would I choose to join a church that made me feel uncomfortable? At Westmoreland, the sense of inclusiveness is profound. And the church’s progressive and active stance on social issues helps to minimize any disconnect I might feel between religion on a theological level and its relevance to everyday life.

Even without having read more than a few passages of the Bible and without fully sorting out my internal confusion, I’m considering joining Westmoreland in the next month or two. And I’m confident I’ll be warmly welcomed, because despite not being a formal member, I already feel like a part of the community.

Stagnetti and Mr. Brown

Some brief Tuesday evening thoughts:

• I'm proud of Maryland students for standing up to the state legislature. Not because I particularly care about the right to screen porn flicks on campus, but because it demonstrates the growing will of our generation. Anytime we 20-somethings overcome apathy to act on our beliefs, it is a big deal. I'm just glad that we can now mobilize around important things, like free speech and Barack Obama's campaign, instead of the latest creepy innovation at Facebook.
• Vermont's legislature overturned the Republican governor's veto on gay marriage and the D.C. council voted unanimously to recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states. This is beginning to feel like a movement. I skimmed a live Q&A on washingtonpost.com this afternoon between David Catania, a (gay) D.C. council member and some fool from the National Organization for Marriage named "Mr. Brown." Mr. Brown repeatedly dodged very intelligent, lucid questions by quoting nebulous research and repeating, mantra-like, that 30 out of 30 states that have given their citizens a chance to vote on this matter have outlawed gay marriage. Not for long.
• Joe is an uncle (again)! I am really envious that he has a new, little family member living so close by. And I'm obviously excited to meet Robby.
• Bangmerang! I want to watch Hook.
• I'd like the spring sunshine to return.
• Baseball season got underway with the Orioles stomping on the Yankees last night. So as of right now, they are on track to go undefeated... I'm planning on going to the game this Saturday with Sam.

That is about it. I hope to be able to write more in depth thoughts soon.

Obviously I picked Villanova

At least Duke won't be winning the tournament this year. That alone is enough to put me in a very good mood. Other great things include:

• It's Friday
• Really dense, cool-looking fog this morning
• A sesame seed bagel with cream cheese
• Leaving work at 10:45 am
• Going to Brooklyn to visit Maggie and Alex
• A possible nap on the bus??
• 65 degree weather
• Feeling very comfortable about possibly joining Westmoreland UCC
• Having a respectable president (this will absolutely never, ever, ever get old)

I haven't been to New York since last summer, for my great-grandmother's funeral. In fact, I've only ever really been there to visit family. We've done some limited sight-seeing, but I've never really hung out in "the city" with friends. Supposedly they have delicious bagels and pizza there. Although I generally detest New York snobbery (or really snobbery of almost any sort), I will dutifully taste these things and report back.

It's the start of a weekend of plentiful food, basketball, and windbagging. I have a feeling this will be very, very good.