Luqman

 My son sent me this picture today that he snapped in the Wadi Rum, and although I look to be around fifteen hundred years old I actually like this picture. He had just climbed to the top of a massive sand dune that had built up next to a rock outcropping and I was waiting his return. It's a nice fit for me at this stage of my life: 1) the Wadi Rum; 2) tinkering with the new camera; 3) the weathered Cincinnati Reds sweatshirt (doubtless with the weathered Rising Sun, Indiana t-shirt underneath); and 4) the weathered old man pushing stubbornly onward.

Or maybe I just look like Luqman, taking the opportunity to share (doubtless specious) wisdom with my son.

The Boy - an Endless Series

 Not surprisingly, I took so many pictures of G3 on the trip, many of which will find their way to my walls. The apartment is starting to fill up with pictures, about half of which, as any parent would expect, are of my son.

While there are more to come, I suspect this one will remain my favorite. It was snapped on our first full day in Amman, walking around the Roman Theater.

The Young Man and the Red Sea

 As I pointed out yesterday, for some inexcusable reasoning I had never made it to Aqaba before. Our stop was way too short, although I suspect that most of the charm of the place truly related to snorkeling or diving. That said, it did have a bustling downtown area which should be a good fit for allowing the students to do some exploring on the March trip.  With snorkeling in mind, the Boy and I were signed up for some time in the water. In the end I had to bail because I tweaked my back pretty thoroughly while we were still in Amman so I had to nurse it through the rest of the week (I was determined to climb the outcropping above Suleyman's camp to watch the sunset (yet again) and also to get back into Petra (which I missed out two years ago with a twisted knee), and thus I left G3 to do the snorkeling. He had a wonderful time and was stunned by the clear water and pristine views.

Looking at these pictures I'm thinking about the new apartments I saw for sale in Aqaba for 50,000 JD. Hmmm . . .

The dock from yesterday's picture.

The Boy preparing for the adventure. For some reason they initially handed him a Small.

G3 walking me through the process, and telling me that my students will definitely love the experience.

I think we definitely have a winner.

Missing Jordan - Again

 I haven't been back for twelve hours - and I'm clearly already working through some jet lag - but I miss Jordan already, and am looking forward to getting back there again in March.

Inexplicably, despite all my trips to Jordan, I had never made it to  Aqaba and the Red Sea. I'll definitely be back. And I saw some new apartments for sale there . . .

Mahmoud Again

 On the trip we spent most of the time with our driver Mohammed (much more on him soon) but when I was looking at the itinerary I saw that Fadi and Hossam from Petra Moon Travel had assigned us a guide for our day in Petra. We had asked for a driver and not a guide for the week, so that was a little mysterious but I also appreciate how they always look after us. Also, truthfully, I had this suspicion that they might slip in Mahmoud, our long-time guide (as anyone who reads this blog - and why do you read this blog, seriously?) knows. And, sure enough, we popped down into the lobby at the Petra Moon Hotel on Thursday morning (and what better way to spend Thanksgiving than touring Petra - unless it's riding a camel through the Wadi rum and enjoying Bedouin-prepared turkey that night?) to find Mahmoud hanging out. As I've proposed, Mahmoud is the best guide we've had in any of our trips in any part of the world.  Plus, in addition, he's a good friend.

It was great to spend time with my friend Mahmoud, and he's definitely excited to meet the new crop of students in March.

Obstacles and Paths

 My son and I made it back safe and sound - and relatively unscathed - from our Lab Rat Tour of Jordan. Mainly, I went because I wanted to spend time with him and introduce him to my favorite place on earth, but I was also interested in working through the potential obstacles (at least the ones right now) for the upcoming student trip in March. We faced some definite COVID-related obstacles, but nothing that couldn't be overcome with a little intentionality, detail-focus, and refusal to surrender (I have few virtues, but I suppose I have these in some fashion or another). It helped that we had physical copies of every conceivable document - and uploaded information into every conceivable travel app - but, overall, while at times a little frustrating if not mystifying (at several points in the trip my son and I would debrief and eventually come back around to: "And what was the point of the that app - and the hours we spent uploading info into it - again?"), but it was manageable. Expect a lot more pictures to follow.

Warning: Clumsy Metaphor Alert.

Closer and Further

 I think this may be my favorite picture so far, but that may speak more to my love of cemeteries than its aesthetic merit.

And this is when I wish I had a better lens, and thus you can see the slippery slope of buying a nice camera.

But then the beauty of having more pixels is that cropping and focusing in gets easier.

Now, which is the best version?

Texas Toy Museum

 Recently I went to Austin, Texas, which was my first time on a plane since the Zombie Apocalypse began almost two years ago. My first international flight in a long time will be this Friday, but that's another post in and of itself. I'll certainly have more to say about the Austin trip, which was wonderful. My long-time friend Jack (when did I reach the point when I can honestly say that I've had friends for fifty years?) was supposed to be taking his wife to Austin for a romantic getaway, centered around the Austin City Limits Hall of Fame Induction, but at the last minute she couldn't get off work. So, I pinch-hit. It was an absolute blur, but what an amazing time.

Like all great trips it was a combination of the planned and the unplanned, the profound and the silly. In regards to the unplanned and the silly you'd definitely have to include our trip to the Texas Toy Museum, which is located right on the main drag in Austin. We had passed it a couple times and I eventually dragooned Jack into heading there. It cost $9 to get in, but you also got unlimited free game play so it quickly paid for itself. We were going to go in for about ten minutes to say we visited, but I'm sure we stayed a couple hours. There was no great order to the place, just mainly a mosh pit of different toys, which actually worked because it felt like a trip down memory lane of my son's childhood (including the chaos).

My son was a big Aliens fan.

I didn't see this until I was leaving. This is brilliant.

I think I spent more time playing pinball than my previous life put together. Jack, of course, wearing his Los Angeles Rams shirt. Our friendship has been tested (hardened and purified) by way too many Rams vs Vikings games over the years.

Jack definitely found his groove on Centipede, where he set the high score.

Oh, and you could buy beer in the museum, which clearly would have fueled the competitive drive of our younger selves.

And Even More Faffing About

 And here's another picture from the early evening I spent down at the lake experimenting with filters.

This filter was supposed to make the blue sky more blue, which I guess it did, although I think in the process it made the clouds a bit too dirty, sort of late winter roadside snow.

Free Clinic Team

 At certain points when I'm explaining to my friends why I'm buried I'll say something like, "It began innocently enough, and I wasn't really interested in getting that involved . . .," and that's when they begin smiling. They smile because they've heard this story multiple times. It's like with the Food Shelf. It came around as an option and I was one of five or six people at the mosque who volunteered, and but when it came to an actual meeting I said, "OK, I'll send around an email invitation, but I'm just arranging the initial meeting and that's it. I'm way too busy to even think about getting involved. Fast forward a couple months and I'm volunteering four times a week, am on the advisory committee, and have a key to the building. Recently the mosque decided to open a free clinic and I volunteered, figuring that it would just show up to greet people at the door and sign them in. I was asked if I knew where we could get a couple tablets - and if I knew someone who could set up the clinic webpage - and I, of course, said that I worked with Techdren (our non-profit that brings laptops to Zanzibar) and . . . OK, so you can see where this is going. Now we meet every Friday evening at 5:30 to work out the intricacies of the webpage, which also requires a fair bit of editing material, and you know who is probably good at editing, probably a college professor . . . and . . . and . . . All of this is fine, of course, and I'm really enjoying the process - and setting up a free clinic is a wonderful gift to the community. I'm blessed to play even a small role. Mainly I'm laughing at myself. 

I'm telling you though, next time when I volunteer for something I'm seriously going to just attend the first meeting and that's it . . . 

I think my main job on the committee is to keep the meeting moving and to make people laugh; of course, they're probably laughing at my thought that this would stop at me greeting people at the door.

Complicated

 A recent ex proposed, in exasperation, why all the men in her life were/are crazy (clearly I was in the frame). I responded, perilously, "What's the common denominator?" I've thought about that conversation more than a few times, including the danger inherent in the question. However, it also makes me think about my relationship with my parents. The other day, 12 November, was my mom's birthday, and I posted this picture on Facebook. If someone were to ask me to define my relationship with my mother I would have said it was complicated. When I spoke at her funeral I, gently, described her as a complicated woman. If you were going to ask me to describe my current relationship with my father I'd doubtless say, complicated. It's not that I didn't/don't love them both - and I know they loved/love me - but the relationships were never as close or full as they should have been. And this brings me back to the anecdote that began this narrative. What's the common denominator? Obviously, it's me. Marcus Aurelius always reminds us that, before we turn our analytical lens on someone else, we need to start with ourselves. I don't know if I have a good answer, although I suspect that answer probably helps explain why I'm sixty-one and living alone in a one bedroom apartment. In my imagined universe I'm the one who gives more, who tries more, who forgives more, loves more, but maybe it's exactly the opposite. 

It's a picture I snapped from another picture, so it's more than a tad blurry, but the mood comes through. This was one Christmas in Atlanta, in the first house that Brenda and I owned out northeast of Atlanta. This picture is the rarity of all rarities: my mother and I are both smiling.