Down With People

A few more notes on the People with which we were recently Up.

• Was never sure where this name came from.  "Up" with people?  What?  Down With People, I would get.  You know--"I'm down with that. . ."

Then I learned that it was started in 1965 by hippies, though I don't know if they called themselves that.  And there's a lot of language from those days that isn't around anymore and that I've never heard reference to.  It's the nature of language.  Only the few phrases can survive.  "Up with. . ." wasn't one of them.

•  These 3 guys ate a lot of food.  I bought a ton to stock up for their stay, all the while with my special paranoia hovering.  If we don't have enough to feed them, Gramma will be so disappointed as she watches from Heaven. 

So I bought plenty.  Plenty.  Plenty.  And then had just enough to make it through the week.

This was great, of course.  It was just a reality check: normally, I'm cooking enough to feed 2 small children, 1 woman who eats light in the evening and 1 man who eats like a 40-something and not a 20-something. 

•  We played a game with them called 10 Days in Africa.  The Superheroes play this together and a game takes about 15 minutes.  Bryan actually likes it (which hardly happens when it comes to games) because it's all about planning.  When we play together, Joshua is on Bryan's team.

This time, there were 4 players with the kids on teams with 2 of the guys.  Something about that 4th player. . .The game dragged into 45 minutes when Hans asked, "Are we allowed to have 2 plane cards together?"

I consulted the rules.  There was no statement about 2 plane cards together.  So I ruled, 45 minutes into what should be a 15 minute game, "Go for it."  And then Hans and Josh won.

Drew was looking at the rules, too.   Then he whipped out his smart phone to dial the number provided.  "I'm going to call to ask them."  And as he dialed, he started laughing and said, "This is going to be epic!" 

It was 9:45 in Wisconsin where the answering machine picked up.  He left a message, including his phone number. 

Something about this I love.  When you're 36, you don't think to call in this question.  And if you do think to, you don't actually call.  You might say, 'It would be funny if we called,' but there is no dialing.  No message.  No thinking about it ever again. 

When you're 21 and armed with a phone, you call. 

It is epic.

Josh and Gemma asked him each evening when he got home, 'Did they call you back about the rule yet?'  Nope.  They never did. . .

•  The kids and I went to the performance.  Bryan did not because a) there was a lot of work we had to get ready for a Cubbies training session later that weekend and b) his capacity for enjoying live theater is about 2 or 3%. He doesn't complain when I ask him to take me to these things.  But I, uh, have more fun without him. . .

It was a fun show.  The cast and crew had spent the week on Ft. Carson, both doing service in their schools and spending time with soldiers.  A bit of boot camp action, even.  The show was staged in one of the Ft. all-purpose buildings, which is code for, "We do a lot of stuff in this space, and so the space is designed so that nothing we do here can be done well." 

Is there a way to run sound inside a wooden-floor gymnasium lined with bleachers that's going to sound really terrific? 

No matter.  We got there early and sat in the front row and had a lot of fun picking out our 3 guys whenever they were on stage.  After the second song, Gemma asked, 'So are they, like, going to tell a story?'

No.  Not that kind of show.

It was a collection of song and dance.  The general message was, "Be a positive person.  Have a positive impact on those around you.  If everyone did this, the world would be a much, much better place.  So go out there and sing your song." 

You know what?  I was glad to hear it.  Glad to see it.  When you're 36, you see the cynicism of nearly every other adult.  You see it in yourself.  It creeps in when you're not watching out for it. It makes your dreams and hopes sick if you don't guard your heart closely.

But when you're 21, and you're going to spend your money to tour with a cast to share a message of hope and you actually believe what you're singing, that in itself is a hopeful thing.  Good for them.

What a great way to experience this country and others, by the way.  Worth every penny they spend for the privilege.  I would be delighted if Gemma or Joshua wanted to pursue it one day.

•  About that message, though. . .  It's a call to be an effective person.  I want that.  I believe I have found the keys to the kingdom of being the most effective version of the best version of myself.  I don't believe anyone can get to this version of self without the power of the resurrected Christ.  That's the song I have to sing.

•  These People, I noticed--and I was around more of them one evening when a different host family hosted a BBQ--are collectors of experiences.  Stories of what they had done, where they had been, or even just the statement that they had done and been, were a currency among them. 

Not in an ugly way.  Maybe a little one-up-manship here and there.  But mostly in the way any collector displays his collection. 

You might be a traveller and so would prefer hotels and blocks of time in one place.  But if you're a collector of experiences, touring with Up With People is probably the way to go.

I realized that I'm a collector of stories.  I really didn't know that about myself until this past week.  I'll have to tell Bryan, as he's been hounding me for 12 years now to start a collection of something. . .

•  On they go, to increase their collection.  Here I stay, where I can still grow mine.