"'That is sufficient, sir. I have heard of you. Go to the First Auditor of the Treasury.'
I did so. He sent me to the Second Auditor. The Second Auditor sent me to the Third, and the Third sent me to the First comptroller of the Corn-Beef Division. This began to look business. He examined his books and all his loose papers, but found no minute of the beef contract. I went to the Second Comptroller of the Corn-Beef Division. He examined his books and his loose papers, but with no success. I was encouraged. During that week I got as far as the Sixth Comptroller in that division; the next week I got through the Claims Department; the third week I began and completed the Mislaid Contracts Department, and got a foothold in the Dead Reckoning Department.
..." - Mark Twain, The Facts in the Great Beef Contract
On the evening of June 21, 2013, Mike and I observed the arrival of a Utilities Locating Services employee at our house. He parked in front and walked immediately to the backyard, where he began spray painting our grass, trees and flowers. He painted green arrows, blue boxes, and orange lines. After he departed, we went out to inspect his diagram.
"The sewer company is going to dig up our yard again" was all Mike had to say about that.
Last year the sewer department replaced ten feet of pipe that had collapsed and the employee overseeing the repair observed that the next segment of pipe would probably collapse soon. He hoped to stay long enough to replace the next segment too but was called to another job.
Apparently the predicted collapse had occurred.
On the morning of June 22, 2013 a crew from the sewer department parked their trucks in front of our house and walked around to the back yard to prepare their attack on the offending sewer pipe. They looked at the green arrows and the orange line. They stood around the blue rectangle.
Mike remembered that first attempts from last year's crew had yielded no pipe and that they had been forced to take down the fence in our back yard and dig there. He informed the sewer department crew of this history, but of course they had no authority to deviate from the green arrows, orange lines, and blue rectangle.
We left home to run some errands and returned to find the entire crew standing around a giant hole, looking somewhat discouraged. They had missed the pipe. The blue rectangle had led them astray.
That afternoon we left for St. Louis with promises from the head of the crew that their work would be finished by the end of the day and that our yard would be back to its previous state of healthy green grass by Monday morning.
When we got home Sunday evening, we found a large hole, covered with sheets of plywood, surrounded by cones and caution tape. Next to the hole was an equally large pile of dirt and a backhoe.
No one came on Monday, but some crews work Tuesday through Friday, so we waited.
No one came on Tuesday.
On Wednesday, June 26, 2013, Mike called the water department to ask about the plans for the hole in our back yard. They informed him that they were unaware of a hole and promised they would send an inspector to verify our complaint.
No one came on Thursday or Friday.
On Monday, July 1, 2013, Mike received a call from the water department asking if we live at 5200 Broadmoor Street. He informed them that we do not live at 5200 Broadmoor Street. The employee informed Mike that the aforementioned backhoe was at 5200 Broadmoor Street, and that since we did not live at 5200 Broadmoor Street, there could not possibly be a backhoe in our backyard. Mike informed him that there was, in fact, a backhoe in our back yard. The employee responded, sounding rather irritated, that he would have to send another inspector to our location to verify the presence of the backhoe.
On Wednesday, July 3, 2013, we left home again for a few weeks. The hole, pile of dirt, cones (labeled KCWW: Kansas City Water Works), and backhoe were still in our back yard. At 11:30am, Mike received an update to his open case with the city water department. It read, "Informed homeowner that there is no backhoe in his back yard. Case closed."
Mike promptly called the water department to reopen his case. The receptionist looked at his case and let him know that there was definitely not a backhoe in our back yard. Since this did not satisfy Mike, she informed him that if he would like to reopen his case, they would need to send an inspector to the site. She asked if he lived at 5200 Broadmoor Street. She said there was a note on his case that the backhoe he claimed was in our back yard was actually at 5200 Broadmoor Street. She suggested that it might be helpful to change our address.
Mike once again described the hole, pile of dirt, cones, and backhoe, including the id number and gave her our address. She promised to send an inspector.
"He took [my papers], and for a long time he ransacked his odds and ends. Finally he found the Northwest Passage, as I regarded it--he found the long-lost record of that beef contract--he found the rock upon which so many of my ancestors had split before they ever got to it. I was deeply moved. And yet I rejoiced--for I had survived."
On July 10, 2013, one of our neighbors called to report the arrival of a crew from the sewer department in our back yard.
We returned home on July 14, 2013. Our grass was gone. Our tree was mangled. Our retaining wall was put back together in a way that resulted in an extra brick. But the hole, the cones, the pile of dirt, and the backhoe were all gone.
We don't know if they ever fixed or even found the collapsed sewer pipe, but at least we weren't forced to sell a city-owned backhoe on Craig's List. And we survived.
"We do things by routine here. You have followed the routine and found out what you wanted to know. It is the best way. It is the only way. It is very regular, and very slow, but it is very certain."
I think someone at the Kansas City Water Department has been reading Mark Twain.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
A Long Obedience
"The essential thing 'in heaven and earth' is ... that there should be a long obedience in the same direction; there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living." - Friedrich Nietzsche (quoted by Eugene Peterson)
The last couple days have been long run kinds of days. The baby did not take his naps on Monday, which left me totally exhausted and frazzled. I went to bed at 8:15. It's not like he's all that demanding when he's awake, but I need those little breaks! Yesterday was better, just really busy. I know that I'm supposed to be "enjoying every minute" while I have a baby, but some days seem less like a walk in the park and more like a hike up a mountain.
If you've ever done a tough hike, you know how you get to a point where you see nothing, you feel nothing, you think nothing--you just put one foot in front of the next, hoping that something will happen, whether it is reaching the peak or just falling over.
Some days are easy. Other days are a marathon. You just keep putting one foot in front of the next. It's nice to look at the bigger questions in life like purpose and meaning, but I suspect that not a few mountain climbers have thought at some point, "Why did I want to do this?" On the long, tedious journey, purpose and meaning often fade away in the face of sore feet, burning muscles, blisters, exhaustion, and hunger.
One of the best books on leadership I have read is called Leading at the Edge: Leadership Lessons from the Extraordinary Saga of Shackleton's Antarctic Expedition, written by Dennis Perkins. The author's "leadership lessons" were pretty good, but the part that will never leave me was the story of Ernest Shackleton.
His attempt to cross Antarctica in 1914 met with disaster when his ship was crushed in the ice. I cannot imagine the feeling of sitting at the bottom of the world watching the only thing that could possibly get you home slowly crack and then sink into the water as the ice closed around it.
His crew camped out on ice floes for the next six months. Again, I cannot imagine spending six months camped on ice, seeing nothing but various shades of white, gray, and black.
You can read the whole story of Shackleton's voyage in Perkins' book or on Wikipedia. I don't want to spoil the ending because Shackleton met with impossible obstacles at every stage of the journey, and the way he moved forward is riveting.
Shackleton's leadership throughout the ordeal was incredible. He never lost focus of what he wanted to accomplish. He never resorted to self-preservation at the expense of his crew. In fact, at one point, he gave his gloves to a crew member, which resulted in the loss of some of his fingers to frostbite. He never gave up. He sat on that piece of ice in the middle of the most brutal part of the ocean in the world and kept planning and hoping and moving forward.
My day without a baby nap pales in comparison to the endless days Shackleton and his crew spent sitting on a frozen bit of the Atlantic Ocean. If they can survive with purpose and hope, so can I. After all, it is a long obedience in the same direction that makes life worth living, even though it might not seem very exciting or fun sometimes.
The last couple days have been long run kinds of days. The baby did not take his naps on Monday, which left me totally exhausted and frazzled. I went to bed at 8:15. It's not like he's all that demanding when he's awake, but I need those little breaks! Yesterday was better, just really busy. I know that I'm supposed to be "enjoying every minute" while I have a baby, but some days seem less like a walk in the park and more like a hike up a mountain.
If you've ever done a tough hike, you know how you get to a point where you see nothing, you feel nothing, you think nothing--you just put one foot in front of the next, hoping that something will happen, whether it is reaching the peak or just falling over.
Some days are easy. Other days are a marathon. You just keep putting one foot in front of the next. It's nice to look at the bigger questions in life like purpose and meaning, but I suspect that not a few mountain climbers have thought at some point, "Why did I want to do this?" On the long, tedious journey, purpose and meaning often fade away in the face of sore feet, burning muscles, blisters, exhaustion, and hunger.
One of the best books on leadership I have read is called Leading at the Edge: Leadership Lessons from the Extraordinary Saga of Shackleton's Antarctic Expedition, written by Dennis Perkins. The author's "leadership lessons" were pretty good, but the part that will never leave me was the story of Ernest Shackleton.
His attempt to cross Antarctica in 1914 met with disaster when his ship was crushed in the ice. I cannot imagine the feeling of sitting at the bottom of the world watching the only thing that could possibly get you home slowly crack and then sink into the water as the ice closed around it.
His crew camped out on ice floes for the next six months. Again, I cannot imagine spending six months camped on ice, seeing nothing but various shades of white, gray, and black.
You can read the whole story of Shackleton's voyage in Perkins' book or on Wikipedia. I don't want to spoil the ending because Shackleton met with impossible obstacles at every stage of the journey, and the way he moved forward is riveting.
Shackleton's leadership throughout the ordeal was incredible. He never lost focus of what he wanted to accomplish. He never resorted to self-preservation at the expense of his crew. In fact, at one point, he gave his gloves to a crew member, which resulted in the loss of some of his fingers to frostbite. He never gave up. He sat on that piece of ice in the middle of the most brutal part of the ocean in the world and kept planning and hoping and moving forward.
My day without a baby nap pales in comparison to the endless days Shackleton and his crew spent sitting on a frozen bit of the Atlantic Ocean. If they can survive with purpose and hope, so can I. After all, it is a long obedience in the same direction that makes life worth living, even though it might not seem very exciting or fun sometimes.
 |
| Contemplating the journey |
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Parenthood Is Complicated
"I lay in bed and looked at the painting on the hotel-room wall. It was a print of a detailed and lifelike painting of a smiling clown's head, made out of vegetables. It was a painting of the sort that you do not intend to look at and that, alas, you never forget. Some tasteless fate presses it upon you; it becomes part of the complex interior junk you carry with you wherever you go." - Annie Dillard, The Eclipse
According to Anne Lamott, when you sit down to write, all your neuroses pull up chairs and gather round. I like that idea. I like it because it implies that although your neuroses are you, they are also somehow not you. It also implies that your neuroses can be easily quantified and identified.
I don't think that is quite what Anne Lamott meant when she wrote it, but stay with me.
My husband and I watched all of the first four seasons of the television show Parenthood in a few months this past year. We loved the show. The characters are likeable and easy to relate to; the difficulties they face are complex but not impossible; the soundtrack is an eclectic blend of great music. Sounds like a great show, right?
But after we watched it for a while, I began to notice a disconnect between the show and my life.
Unlike Anne Lamott's neuroses and unlike the insightful characters on Parenthood, I cannot always identify the "complex interior junk" I carry with me. I can't always remember that the reason I don't like cabbage is because it was the skull of some creepy clown painting in a hotel room. (I really don't like cabbage, but I don't think that's why.)
And more importantly, I can't always figure out that my irrational response to my husband's actions is because of the traumatic break-up I experienced in junior high. Nor am I able to realize that my husband's irrational response to my actions is because of some traumatic event in his past. It could be because of any of the thousands of pieces of life that are stuck with us.
I read somewhere that people who watch shows like CSI expect cops to dust for fingerprints, put tape on the floor, and declare a crime scene on every call. They want to see crimes solved now! The huge number of detective shows on television draw us in by the lure of truth. We eagerly anticipate when the good guys will get to the bottom of things and nail the bad guys. But in real life, a lot of bad guys get away. Or even if they do get caught, the truth remains elusive, and the mystery of "what really happened on the night of ___" is never solved.
Likewise, shows like House appeal to the same desire for truth. We think that if we can only find that one doctor who can think outside the box and consider the most unlikely of possibilities, whatever disease we have will be cured once and for all. If one doctor can't figure it out, maybe the next can. We just need someone who can get to the bottom of this!
Shows like Parenthood do the same for our emotional lives. Why was Kristina so upset when her sixteen-year-old daughter was dating a 20-year-old recovering alcoholic? Maybe because, as her husband pointed out, her own mother got married young and suffered through a terrible marriage. See how nicely he wrapped that up!
Why can't my husband help me get to the bottom of my feelings? Why can't my brother listen to me talk for a few minutes and then remind me of that time when we were young when I did the same thing? Why can't I suddenly remember the exact time and place when my opinion on some subject was irrevocably changed?
Sometimes we do get to know. Sometimes we catch the criminal. Sometimes we cure the disease. Sometimes we understand what made us feel this way.
And sometimes even if we don't ever get to the bottom of things, everything turns out all right anyway.
But more often than not, we figure out a little bit of the truth and do what we can with that, hoping for the best.
I will probably keep watching Parenthood, but I do wonder how much discontentment is created by the disconnect between the world of television where everything is nicely wrapped up within thirty minutes to an hour and real life where some things only make sense after years and others remain a mystery forever.
According to Anne Lamott, when you sit down to write, all your neuroses pull up chairs and gather round. I like that idea. I like it because it implies that although your neuroses are you, they are also somehow not you. It also implies that your neuroses can be easily quantified and identified.
I don't think that is quite what Anne Lamott meant when she wrote it, but stay with me.
My husband and I watched all of the first four seasons of the television show Parenthood in a few months this past year. We loved the show. The characters are likeable and easy to relate to; the difficulties they face are complex but not impossible; the soundtrack is an eclectic blend of great music. Sounds like a great show, right?
But after we watched it for a while, I began to notice a disconnect between the show and my life.
Unlike Anne Lamott's neuroses and unlike the insightful characters on Parenthood, I cannot always identify the "complex interior junk" I carry with me. I can't always remember that the reason I don't like cabbage is because it was the skull of some creepy clown painting in a hotel room. (I really don't like cabbage, but I don't think that's why.)
And more importantly, I can't always figure out that my irrational response to my husband's actions is because of the traumatic break-up I experienced in junior high. Nor am I able to realize that my husband's irrational response to my actions is because of some traumatic event in his past. It could be because of any of the thousands of pieces of life that are stuck with us.
I read somewhere that people who watch shows like CSI expect cops to dust for fingerprints, put tape on the floor, and declare a crime scene on every call. They want to see crimes solved now! The huge number of detective shows on television draw us in by the lure of truth. We eagerly anticipate when the good guys will get to the bottom of things and nail the bad guys. But in real life, a lot of bad guys get away. Or even if they do get caught, the truth remains elusive, and the mystery of "what really happened on the night of ___" is never solved.
Likewise, shows like House appeal to the same desire for truth. We think that if we can only find that one doctor who can think outside the box and consider the most unlikely of possibilities, whatever disease we have will be cured once and for all. If one doctor can't figure it out, maybe the next can. We just need someone who can get to the bottom of this!
Shows like Parenthood do the same for our emotional lives. Why was Kristina so upset when her sixteen-year-old daughter was dating a 20-year-old recovering alcoholic? Maybe because, as her husband pointed out, her own mother got married young and suffered through a terrible marriage. See how nicely he wrapped that up!
Why can't my husband help me get to the bottom of my feelings? Why can't my brother listen to me talk for a few minutes and then remind me of that time when we were young when I did the same thing? Why can't I suddenly remember the exact time and place when my opinion on some subject was irrevocably changed?
Sometimes we do get to know. Sometimes we catch the criminal. Sometimes we cure the disease. Sometimes we understand what made us feel this way.
And sometimes even if we don't ever get to the bottom of things, everything turns out all right anyway.
But more often than not, we figure out a little bit of the truth and do what we can with that, hoping for the best.
I will probably keep watching Parenthood, but I do wonder how much discontentment is created by the disconnect between the world of television where everything is nicely wrapped up within thirty minutes to an hour and real life where some things only make sense after years and others remain a mystery forever.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Cousins (and other awesome people)
We have finally returned from our wonderful family vacation. We were able to see lots of friends and family, but it is good to be home again!
Here are some highlights from our trip.
Sondra took some time to do a photoshoot with her new background. She did such an amazing job, and we are so lucky to have such great pictures of little Amos. Here is one of my favorites:
We made the trip up to see Mike's parents and sister and her family. Amos LOVED his little cousins, and they loved him. They kept walking around saying, "Baby Amos! Baby Amos!" It was like a dream come true for little Amos. He loves other babies and he loves attention, so babies that pay attention to him are awesome. Here are a couple pictures of Amos and the little cousins.
We also got to stop and see little Charity on the way home. She is ten months old. I think Amos went into withdrawal when we got back on Monday and there weren't any babies to play with!
It was really good to see our families, and the time away from Kansas City made a nice break from our routine, but I'm happy to be home again!
And now, let the blogging, recommence!
(And also the laundry and cooking and weeding the garden and other home-type activities.)
Here are some highlights from our trip.
We went to fireworks with the Odon Church of the Nazarene, where Amos reconnected with the little girl who is one day older than him. She wanted to touch him, but he wasn't too sure about that!
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| Amos and Everlee |
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| Photo by Sondra Laughlin |
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| Amos and Isaac |
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| Amos and Maggie sitting on Grandma's lap |
It was really good to see our families, and the time away from Kansas City made a nice break from our routine, but I'm happy to be home again!
And now, let the blogging, recommence!
(And also the laundry and cooking and weeding the garden and other home-type activities.)
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