Tag: Travel

Annual Surgery in China – 2023 Edition

A trip to Thailand and then to the Hospital. The Year of the Rabbit has the good and the bad.

The year of the Tiger, 2022, came and went.

Cue the Year of the Rabbit – 2023.

This is my year, at least according the Chinese Zodiac thing. So that means 2023 was going to be great, right? It certainly started off that way, for sure! Covid-19 slowly began to not be a problem as China finally started opening back up to the world. We celebrated the start of his new year by taking a two-week family vacation to the absolutely amazing country of Thailand.

We split the time between Krabi and Phuket, doing really cool stuff like this:

Seriously, we had a blast after basically being stuck in China for vacations since 2019. Don’t get me wrong, our vacations in China kicked big ol’ booty, but we moved to this part of the world to also visit other amazing places like – Thailand. As you can see, we did everything. We hung out and relaxed at resorts, took longboat trips to tropical islands, swim with the fishies in crystal clear ocean water, ate scrumptious island food, got stung by jellyfish, watched a family do a fire show on the beach, visited Hard Rock Cafe, got our hair “did”, received 30 minute leg massages for 6 USD, spent time at an elephant sanctuary, saw a dude who was missing fingers kiss king cobras, visited the Big Buddha, hung out with monks, got sunburnt, went parasailing, not to mention of bunch of other things I’m already forgetting. It was exactly the type of trip we have dreamed about, and exactly what we needed in the moment. My better half is already wanting a return trip there and/or to just move to Thailand straight away.

We returned to China in mid-January totally relaxed. This winter was super mild. I’m a hairy beast, so I’m normally not cold, but even my family rarely even needed a light jacket to battle these “harsh” conditions. Before the kids headed back to school, we even spent another mini-vacation in Macau where we shopped and got fatter on American style food. My beautiful bride celebrated her birthday at a super cool French restaurant. The actual French chef came out from the back to wish her a happy birthday and treated us like VIPs. I even found a little barbershop in the historical Portuguese section of Macau where the owner gave me my first truly professional beard trim in four years.

Next up was Chinese New Year, the yearly celebration where China goes ALL OUT. It has been mostly subdued during the pandemic, but this year returned to all its previous glory. I kid you not, there were fireworks every night, hours long, for 3 weeks straight. And since we live right near the South China sea, these fireworks were as close to us as your standard July 4th celebration. We may have gotten a bit tired of them after, oh I dunno, day 2. After the annual festivities, the kids went back to school, and we went back to work. February came and went. That mild winter turned into an early spring. China officially cancelled all Covid policies in March, heralding in my wife immediate booking a trip back to the homeland this summer. They even told us to stop wearing masks (in most places). It was truly a excellent start to 2023.

Aaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnddd….. then it happened. Come on, we all knew it was too good to be true. Look, I’m generally a very positive person, but after 3 surgeries since coming to China, I’m always looking over my shoulder. Not the bad shoulder though. That’s the right one that I completely shattered in 2019. No no, I look over my left shoulder, cause I’m a Southpaw. Anyway, back to “it”. In the middle of March, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen and then eventually that pain moved slowly around to the lower left side of my back. I immediately knew what it was, as way back in 1997, during my senior year of university, I had the exact same issue. A kidney stone. In 1997, I freaked out about it and spent the night in the hospital because I didn’t know what it was. This time period was where my phobia of hospitals comes from. I think I’ve mentioned that issue before, so here’s the background story. Back then, my parents drove up to hang out with me in the hospital. The next morning, they wheeled me down to radiology for an x-ray. While I was waiting, I was placed beside this elderly lady who was lying on a gurney. This lady proceeded to scream the entire time I was there, yelling literally right beside me how she was in so much pain and wanted nothing more to die. My Dad was with me, and felt so bad for me that he tried to stand in between me and the screaming woman. I “felt” her pain. There was no exaggeration in her voice. She was 100% real. It scarred me. Since that moment, I’ve always been super scared of hospitals. I HATE going to them. They make my blood pressure rise through the roof. Jumping out of airplanes, bungeying off towers, bugs, horror movies, American politics, none of that bothers me as much as a trip to the local hospital.

Let’s return to present day – March of 2023. So, I felt that same stabbing pain in my left kidney area. Now, I won’t be getting into a pissing match about whose pain is worst, which disease hurts more or any of that jazz. But for me, kidney stones are absolutely horrible. My Dad had at least 7 of them that I know of. My Dad is my hero. My Dad never showed pain. But I knew when he had the stones. I started feeling this pain and my first thought was to be a typical man. I’ll wait it out. I’ll pass it. Everything will be fine. So that’s what I did. I started feeling the pain on a Sunday, went to work all the next week, soldiered through like a real champ, not even telling a soul about the issue other than my rock, my wife. She’s the good type of rock, not like a kidney stone. But, by the end of the week, the pain was worse, much worse and I was having trouble doing the one thing you should do the most when you have a kidney stone – urinating. So, with the pain through the roof and my blood pressure looking like two numbers that were surface temperatures on the Sun, I headed up late one evening to Guangzhou, to the hospital that really caters to expats. They all know me and my family there. We have issues, okay? We go there. A LOT. By the time I got the hospital, I was in so much pain that I rushed out of the car and straight to the bathroom. I figured that they would need a urine sample, so I just did my business in a water bottle. The nurse told me later that I contaminated it and it couldn’t be used, but thankfully I had another gallon of urine in me to force out for her. They checked me into the ER at that time of night, stuffed an IV in me, ran some x-rays and a very nice doctor eventually told me the news. I had kidney stones. In fact, I had not 1 but 3 KIDNEY STONES. One was in my left ureter, one was in my left kidney, and one was in my right kidney.

The ER doctor recommended I see the urologist first thing the next morning. So that’s what I did. And of course they ran some more scans of me. Through an MRI, or Cat Scan, CT Scan (I obviously have limited knowledge of medical terminology), it was determined that the stone in my ureter was 3mm and “may” pass on its own. But the two stones in my kidneys were 5mm each and would require immediate surgery to remove because they were basically blocking the flow of urine from my kidneys to my bladder. My urologist explained it like this: Robert… you have 3 stones. 1 small, 2 big. Robert, you are too fat to do laser surgery, so we’re gonna go up your hoo-ha, break the stones apart with magical soundwaves, pull those broken apart stones out your hoo-ha, then put 2 stents in your ureters for two weeks so that any parts of the stones left can better flow out of your body. Side note – I may have slightly exaggerated the way my urologist spoke to me, but most of it is true and he did say I was too fat.

After going back and forth with the hospital and my insurance company to make sure everything would be covered, I was scheduled for surgery two days later. The family came up to be with me then, as they love any excuse to stay in a hotel. Although, with as many times we’ve stayed in hotels for medical trips, they have started to tire of the experience. So, my surgery was scheduled for April Fools Day. Yes, yes, I know… very apropos isn’t it? I was prepped for surgery early that morning, then wheeled down to the surgical ward. Everything is always a little weird in China. They speak a lot of Chinese to each other, then a little bit of English to me now and then. They are really concerned about contamination, so of course they put a shower cap on my head, then they put not one but two surgical masks around my face, chin and neck to cover up my ginormous beard. My doctor was a little late to the surgery, so I was waiting there patiently on the operating table, IV in, anesthesia ready to go. Did I mention my doctor is about 4’11’, 95 lbs and has bright yellow/orange hair? He also looked like he was 14 years old. Anyway, he finally made his grandiose appearance, I feel asleep and surgery got underway.

The surgery was successful, I guess. At least that’s what the doctor said. He got most of the stone fragments out, and inserted two ureteral stents inside me that would remain in there for two weeks, at which time I would come back for another quick surgery to remove them.

Here are some lovely medical pictures of my stones and the stents. If you don’t like medical stuff, please skip ahead.

Right Kidney Stone
Left Ureter Stone
Left Kidney Stone
Post Surgery Stents

So, while the surgery was successful, my diminutive doctor friend told me the stents would have to stay in for two weeks, they might be quite painful, and I could expect to regularly urinate blood for a fortnight. Good times. I was discharged the next day and sent home to recover. The first few days went well. I had some pain medication, and that seemed to work for the time being. I did indeed pee a lot of blood though. Then day three came and the pain returned, tenfold. I suffered through as best I could, but by the fifth day, the second in a row that I hadn’t gotten sleep, we were starting to get worried. I was in a ton of pain. I had a fever. I was nauseous. The left side of my chest was tight and hurting. My blood pressure was through the roof again. I was finding it hard to get a full breath. I know what you’re thinking. We were thinking the same thing. My better half rushed me back to the hospital, first up to see the urologist. Once my wife basically verbally assaulted them (in a nice way) because I wouldn’t advocate for myself, they immediately transferred me over to the ER just in case my heart was going to give out. I had a different ER doctor this time, but even better than the first. He ran me through all the battery of tests, and then asked a question we hadn’t even considered – “have you been coughing this week? Do you feel sick?” Why yes, I had been coughing at the beginning of the week, and I did feel like I had a cold. But I figured that was just me feeling icky after surgery. This good doctor then rammed a tester thingy up my nose and I’m pretty sure touched my brain. Sometime later, he comes back to inform me that I had H1N1 Flu. That explained all the sick symptoms and the tightness in my chest. All the cardio results were normal. As was a test for pneumonia. But, on top of the flu, I also had a kidney infection from the surgery. The stents themselves were fine, but as my urologist explained a little later when he dropped by, “Robert… you are too fat. The surgery was difficult. It probably caused the infection.” Thanks, you tiny person. They pumped my arm full of painkillers, which thankfully helped. We begged them to take the stents out, but they insisted that they needed to remain in for one more week. So once again, we headed back home, this time with antibiotics, Tamiflu and super duper strong pain pills.

The next week was rough. I’m not one to take pain medication, but I needed it about every 8 hours just to make it through each day. By the end of that second week though, I was ready to get those stents the heck out of dodge. Dodge, being my ureters of course. Thankfully, they put me back asleep again, as I did not want to be awake for anything hoo-ha related. When I woke up, once again I was told everything went well. I even got to go home a couple hours later. I was told to take it easy for four weeks. Not to do any lifting, exercise, drive a car, even go to work. That was on Sunday. Last Monday, I drove to work. And then I did it again on Wednesday. I avoided the 5 flights of stairs though and settled for the elevator. Thankfully I haven’t gotten any worse this past week. I still feel lousy though. And just plain tired. Like I need a nap after putting a bag of groceries away tired. As I’m writing this on Sunday night, April 23rd, I’m just starting to feel a little better, minus what feels like a UTI and still dog tired. But hey, I think I got my annual surgery out of the way! In 62 days, we’ll be in the good old US of A for summer vacation, a 30 year high school reunion, and much needed time with both sides of the family and dear friends. We’ll then be coming back to China for at least one more year.

Why?

Tiny doctors.

Here’s to the Year of the Rabbit.

How 2022 Quickly Became the Year of the Sheep (Guest Blog by Alanna)

It’s official. I’m adding a 13th animal to the Chinese zodiac calendar. Instead of the tiger, I say we change 2022 to the year of the sheep. Let me explain. 

Less than a month ago, our daily lives here changed overnight. Prior to the announcement in early December that zero-Covid was changing to a more scientific and dynamic policy, we lived a life that ensured we would be safe from the virus. For years, we’ve stood in lines in all kinds of weather to get our daily COVID test. The results of which were bound to our QR code.

Getting our COVID tests in all kinds of weather
I didn’t take this photo, but it circulated in our chat groups on a typhoon day here in Zhuhai when the brave weathered to storm to get their daily COVID tests.

This code is something needed for everyday life; from entering the grocery store, to crossing the bridge on my commute to work at a checkpoint, to entering our home. The code would remain green if you were negative, yellow if you had crossed paths with someone who might have also crossed paths with a COVID positive person, and red if you were positive.

My green code

Close contacts would be sent to a quarantine facility for up to 14 days, and secondary close contacts would have their entire building locked down. We were only in this situation one time in three years when there was a secondary close contact in our high rise. Around midnight that night we had a team of hazmat workers knock on our door, asking us to all come downstairs for a COVID test. The next morning when I took our dog down the elevator to go outside to pee, the building was locked. I went to the basement. The door to the garage was locked. I tried the back. It was locked. I saw someone in a hazmat suit outside the window and typed into my Google Translate app: “My dog needs to pee. Can you please unlock the door? My test came back negative.” I then held the translated message on my phone up to the window. Mr. Hazmat just shook his head no and walked back to guarding his post. I had a Chinese friend call the apartment complex for advice. They apologized, but said due to safety, they could not unlock the door until they were sure everyone in the building was COVID free. Perhaps he could pee in the lobby? My friend suggested the roof. The roof it was. And thankfully, 12 hours later we were free. Not too bad, but it was the day that started my anxiety. Okay, I wish I could blame all my anxiety on that day. I’m just an anxious person in general, but I started becoming a Doomsday Prepper. I had a suitcase packed by the door with 12 cans of spaghetti, powdered milk, a box of cereal, a box of Pop Tarts, paper bowls, 4 spoons, eye masks, ear plugs, a first aid kit, a bivvy, books, and an emergency packing list for each person in the family. I also had a Doomsday thumb drive with at least 40 hours of movies on it for me and the kids. Why? Well, if we were to one day be sent to a quarantine facility, I would be prepared. I would ensure my kids would have food and entertainment. It sometimes took over 12 hours for our PCR results to come back after our daily tests, and I would obsessively check the results before being able to fall asleep each night. I’m not ashamed to admit I sought medical help and started some anti-anxiety medications and more regular therapy during this time. 

Why didn’t you just leave? (You might be wondering). Other than the fact that we couldn’t due to closed borders… We love it here! We really do. Did I mention we have a sea front apartment with phenomenal sunrise and sunset views every day, in a tropical weather environment? Did I mention Rob and I love our jobs and our kids are getting an excellent education? That we’ve had the opportunity to walk along the Great Wall with a dusting of snow coming down, or that we were face to face with the Terracotta Warriors, or that we were never able to afford a trip to Disney before moving here, but now we’ve been to Disney Shanghai and Hong Kong? And as much as the zero-COVID policy gave me anxiety, it worked. So we went with it. It’s a wonderful life here after all. 

So imagine living in a way that involves scanning a code multiple times a day everyday, standing in line for daily PCR tests, and constantly wondering if today would be the day you would need to use your Doomsday suitcase; and then overnight you find out the policy is gone. The first few days were surreal. Everyone was walking around in a bit of disbelief. Was this real? But that afternoon when we didn’t get our temperature taken to enter our apartment, and the next day when I didn’t have to drive through a QR checkpoint on the way to work… It definitely became more real. It was as if the past three years were all fading away. And then it hit. The wave of sheep. Within one week I started noticing sheep emojis popping up on Chinese social media. I found out the Chinese  word for ‘positive’ (yáng 阳) has the same pronunciation as the word for ‘sheep’ (yáng 羊). So people were indicating they were now COVID positive with the use of a sheep emoji. Within 2 weeks, several people at my school were sheep. The next week, so many people were sheep that we had to move to online learning again. And just a few days later my family also became sheep. On Christmas. I was a bit surprised by how quickly we became infected once the floodgates opened, but I’m glad to get it out of the way.

Because I know that most of you have already been sheep, I won’t go into detail about how awful this virus makes us feel. It has not been fun. We also had to cancel our anniversary/New Year’s Eve trip to Macau. So I get why we were shielded from it for so long. But soon this will all be a distant memory and we will be able to travel again! Quarantine for international arrivals is ending on January 8, and the world will once again be our oyster. We may plan a trip next month to Thailand or the Philippines. We even have a flight booked to come home this summer for the first time in four years.

This experience, living here during such an interesting and sometimes scary time, has changed me and my children for the better. I truly believe it’s made us more resilient. I love the quote from Mr. Rogers: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.‘” This was true in every single instance of scary times here. China possess a unique strength in the fact that there are helpers everywhere. So many willing to help when needed. I took this photo below on one of the days when we were stuck in a COVID testing line during a sudden downpour with no umbrella. I wanted to remember the moment because in the midst of being upset about yet another frustrating COVID moment, a very kind Chinese gentleman behind us in line simply extended his umbrella over our heads and walked that way with us until we reached the testing tent. He spoke no English and we only spoke enough Chinese to express our gratitude. He got soaked, I’m sure. But he was a helper. And I’m happy to join that flock of sheep.

Yours truly,

Baa Baa 🐑

That Time I Was a Professional Volleyball Player

Look, I know what you’re thinking. This guy never blogs. It’s been what… half a year? It is kind of hard to be a full-time blogger though when I’m also a PROFESSIONAL VOLLEYBALL PLAYER. Many of us have the dream of being an independently wealthy sports athlete, and I just happened to make that dream come true. By playing volleyball. On my university volleyball team. I got paid a small stipend to be on the team. Therefore, I am a professional volleyball player. I’m still working on the whole “independently wealthy” thing though.

I’ve played on the university volleyball team every year that I’ve been in China, save for last year when my shoulder decided that I shouldn’t be sporty during the fall sports’ season. I’m on a team of faculty and staff who play other’s schools’ faculty and staff in a tournament. A Chinese tournament. A Chinese tournament that makes absolutely zero sense. Until this year, we’ve never even won a match, just a few games here and there. Why? Well, firstly, we’ve never been very good. And secondly, the Chinese take their volleyball VERY seriously. Most of the school’s we play against have coaches barking orders during the matches. And they all have uniforms. I’m out there in my workout clothes looking like the 40 something has-been I really am.

I was on the IR for most of 2022. But, do to my extensive rehab and intestinal fortitude, I was given the okay (reluctantly… by my wife) to rejoin the volleyball team this year in time for the mid-November tournament. Our first game, on a Monday… was rained out. Our second game on Tuesday… the court was still wet from the first rainout and we once again did not play. Finally, on the third day… Wednesday, my teammates and I took the court.

Let me try to explain this tournament bracket as best as I can remember. Here’s a picture of part of the schedule:

Look, I understand tournaments. I’ve played in tournaments. I’ve even scheduled some tournaments. I watch tournaments on TV. I am obsessed with March Madness. But this tournament…. the Super Duper Chinese University Volleyball Tournament… I surely did not understand. I think there were 16 schools playing. And the first few games, you play some schools. Sometimes you play one match a night, sometimes you play two matches. When you win, you play more. Then somehow, there’s an Elite Eight, and then a Final Four. But then one of the four teams is the P.E. School, which, because they’re all super good, really can’t be allowed to play in the tournament. But we still play them, kind of like an international friendly. So, that leaves three teams out of the final four to be crowned champion. At this point, the tournament, inexplicably, switches to a points system, where you get points for winning. The team with the most points is champion, with the other two teams coming in second and third. Are you still following me? I’m pretty sure they just made up new tournament rules each night. I never knew who we were playing, why were playing, how many matches we would play, and what it meant if we won or loss.

Let’s return to the actual matches. Like I said, we’ve never won a match. But this year, we had a few ringers on the team. One of our faculty stands a stout 6’9″. We also have a husband/wife duo both close to 6 feet each. We have a tiny guy who runs around the court like a freaking cheetah. We also have a member of the Communist party on the team. She will smite people if they don’t so as they’re told. And then there’s me – I’m serviceable. We also had a nice squad of quality benchwarmers who could come in to deliver quality serves and kills. Speaking of that, when did those terms change? In 8th grade gym class, I learned bump, set, spike. Now people are like… ” YOU GOTTA SAY PASS…. YOU HAVE TO SAY KILL…. IF YOU DON’T, YOU’RE A NOOOOOOB.” We also had a great fanbase. Many of the faculty and staff who weren’t playing, along with a ton of our students came out to cheer us on. Most of them cheered in Chinese, so I have clue what they were saying. But I assume, when translated, it sounded something like “Rob is the G.O.A.T. of Chinese Volleyball.”

So yeah, our team was better than previous seasons. We won our first match. We won our second match. We made it to that magical elite eight, and then the final four! Because of the rain, the tournament was broken up between two weeks. I was thankful. as my lower bank, knees and ankles hate me. I mean HATE me. Epsom salt baths, massage rollers, ice and rest did little to alleviate the hate my body parts had for me. But we all made it safe and sound to the finals. We lost our first match there, meaning we didn’t get a point for winning. The next night, we played the P.E. Team, which again, I don’t think it counted. Someone said we could have received a point for winning, but since we didn’t know that, we just mostly tanked the game and relaxed. We then played the other team, and in a lovely three game match, I served an ACE on the final point to win the whole dang thing. By whole dang thing, I am speaking about the match, not the tournament. That other team that beat us also beat the team we beat, so they had more points in the end. You read that correctly. So, we came in second. Which, out of 16 schools, was pretty damn impressive.

Oh… it doesn’t end here.

Immediately following the final game, there was an awards ceremony. Some dude rolled out a portable speaker system on the court and instructed us to all stand in lines. I mean… like… a relay race type of line, with each of us facing straight ahead and one behind the other. They said some things in Chinese, then brought over the 3rd place team to receive a team trophy… AND….. milk… AND…. shampoo. Yes, those were the actual prizes for each member of the team. Next up, was us, in 2nd place. We were given a trophy, and then each member of our team was awarded… milk… and… a bag a rice. If you’re scoring at home, Shampoo < Rice. They then called on the Champs, and that team got a trophy…. and milk… and… wait for it… a GIGANTIC BOTTLE OF COOKING OIL. Again, if you’re scoring at home – Shampoo < Rice < Cooking Oil. Finally, even though they technically couldn’t win, they brought the PE team up to give them some awards too. Honestly, I have no idea what they were given because I was too busy toting around my milk and rice.

Rice and Milk

We all took some pictures afterwards, and now there’s talk of having an end of tournament dinner for the team. And, since I’m a professional, I’ll get a tiny bonus on my paycheck at the end of the month. Maybe next year we can win the whole thing! Or just spring for some actual uniforms! Or finally understand how Chinese Volleyball Tournaments work.

How to Become a Zombie Cyborg

“Hey… wanna have a catch?”

A great line from a great movie.  But no, I won’t be talking about cornfields or baseball this time. Rather, I’m talking about catch as in catching up – you know, what the heck we’ve been up to lately. 

Another quote, err, this time lyric just popped in my head – “Wake me up when September Ends.”  Let’s change it up a bit and make it more personal, shall we?  Wake me up, when NOVEMBER ends. For the most part, I have an amazing life.  But for the past 3 Novembers, unfortunate circumstances have reared their heads.

Case(s) in point:

November 2019 – Grade 5 separated shoulder and my father’s passing

The Shoulder

November 2020 – Blood clot in my sinus

The Blood Clot

Both of these events required surgery, in a hospital, with doctors, and drugs and in general things that make me very nervous.

I did say the past 3 Novembers didn’t I?  We of course can’t forget about this last November. It was a lovely day. Actually, I have no idea if it was a lovely day, because I have no idea when this happened.  I woke up one morning in November with shoulder pain. The same shoulder that I surgery on in 2019. I thought it was probably just soreness from working out.  I’d been doing a lot of that recently. A lot of pushups and pullups to be exact. Let’s throw in some dumbbell work and kettlebells swings for good measure as well.  The soreness didn’t go away though, and after a few days, I couldn’t sleep on the shoulder and could barely get out of bed in the morning. I talked it over with my better half, and she suggested in a calm and polite way for me to, “GO TO THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW YOU BIG STUPID PERSON.” I may have left out some adjectives there. Or added a few. Who knows, I had shoulder pain.

I had no intention of going back to the dreaded Hospital Number 5. Too many bad memories in that place. I had been told by a few of my colleagues at work that there was more of an expat hospital in Guangzhou.  Guangzhou is about an hour and a half away from us.  So… like Charlotte to Hickory.  Or 5 blocks in NYC. You get the picture.  Anyway, this hospital was supposed to be really nice.  Mostly everyone spoke English, and they even took my insurance. That was a big deal.  Hospital Number 5 did NOT take my insurance.  So anytime I went there, I’d had to pay up front, and then get reimbursed by my insurance company whenever they got around to it.

I gave the hospital a call, and a pleasant lady who spoke perfect English walked me through making an appointment. I was immediately sent a text confirming my appointment. Off to a good start. Because my wife enjoys any chance to get away, we made an appointment at the hospital on a Saturday. That way, we could head to Guangzhou on a Friday and stay in a hotel, then do the doctor stuff the next day. She of course booked us some boujee hotel that my children will never fully appreciate. We may or may not have told one of our children to hide in the hotel lobby bathroom while we checked in so we wouldn’t be charged for a second child.

Hotel Hot tub with a view

I prefer to bring my better half with me to all doctor visits. Why?  Because I’m a stupid man who will not ask the right questions and most of the time completely forget whatever the doctor tells me to do.  So having the smarter gender beside me is beneficial in such situations. After showing 2 different QR Green Codes just to get into the hospital, we wandered around just a bit before we found where I needed to go.  The nurses were great.  They all spoke English and had super-duper customer service. This hospital was also super-duper clean and NOT super-duper crowded. We met with an orthopedic surgeon.  He was the head of the department and has performed over 10,000 surgeries.  He was a very nice dude. Once he examined my shoulder, he ordered a x-ray.  So some security dude came and got me, then took me town to get that done.  There was no wait, and even the people in that room spoke English and had amazing customer service.  That whole process took 10 minutes from leaving the doctor’s office to getting back to him. By the time I had returned, my doctor already had the x-ray up on his computer and… didn’t look happy.

AMAZING CT Scan (Yes, that’s really my skeleton)

The good news? It was not a grade 5 shoulder separation like 2 years ago.  The bad news? It was a grade 3 shoulder separation. He said something else looked a little funny and wanted me to get an MRI.  Now this is where I got worried.  Not about the shoulder, but the MRI.  I’ve avoided getting one for 46 years.  My Dad told me horror stories about freaking out inside the MRI machine. So yeah, I wasn’t excited about the process. The security guard took me back down and they made sure I was metal free before plunging me, as nice as possible I might add, inside the MRI machine. They gave me some headphones, which I assumed would have some music, but no, there was only silence.  The headphones just slightly muffled the banging and clicking sound the machine made for the next 30 minutes. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad.  At most, I was bored and a little hot.  I’m pretty sure I fell asleep for a bit during the process.

Right back to the doctor, who once again was already looking at the results when I got back to him.  Diagnosis? A complete tear of my rotator cuff. So yeah, I had re-separated my shoulder and torn a tendon. Good times. I asked the doctor if this would require surgery. He laughed and said of course it would. My better half wanted me to have the surgery immediately. By immediately, I think she meant that very same day. Or maybe as soon as possible. You’ll have to ask her. I, however, wanted to wait. I didn’t want to take time off work.  I’ve had to do that for the past 2 Novembers, and I didn’t want to have to do it again. So it was agreed between the doctor and I, and begrudgingly by my lady, that we would wait until the end of the year to do the surgery.  We set the date for December 28th, which yes, was over a month away. I asked the doctor if I needed some kind of cast or sling. He laughed and said no. My wife was able to force some medication out of the man, but that did very little to help with the pain.  So yes, I spent the rest of the month and basically all of December walking around with a broken shoulder.

I was able to manage the pain, for the most part, though sleeping was a major issue.  The bed wasn’t working, so I moved to the couch where I could prop myself up.  That worked okay, with me getting 4 to 5 hours of restless sleep most nights. My wife suggested we order some kind of recliner.  I used one in the States when I was recovering from the first surgery, and it helped me sleep better. I bought a recliner off the internet the next day. And yes, you get what you pay for.  I bought a super cheap recliner that, while it feels perfectly fine to sit in, is in no way made for sleeping in. Even my daughter tried to sleep in it recently and ended in bed beside her mother.

Let’s pump the breaks before we get to the gory surgery details. Other things happened in my life, our lives.  There was a gala, Thanksgiving, Christmas, a new mall, Outback, a speech competition, oh… Halloween, a puppy.  Dammit, sad news there. I won’t even rehash that one.  And yes, it happened in November.

Halloween went well here, as we did some more adult oriented things. The kids still had their fun, mostly at school, as well.  We decided to do a family Marvel theme this year. Me as Fat Thor, the wifey as Scarlett Witch, my son as Loki and my daughter as… well… she said no to marvel and instead was a zombie skater girl.  Which technically still counts if you include her in the Marvel “What If?” zombie episode.  The adulting came in the form of a costumed trivia night at the local pub, and then another mostly Squid Game themed party the next night.  I still went as Fat Thor to the Squid Game party though, because I’m a man of simple pleasures.

We once again attended a special Gala in town that helped raise money for local Autistic Children.  The event was at a super nice hotel, and the wifey and I even booked a room to stay over for the night. I’m pretty sure it’s the best hotel room we’ve ever stayed in, and that’s saying a LOT, but we’ve stayed in a BUNCH of hotel rooms throughout our adventures.

We celebrated Thanksgiving with my colleagues, as the college hosted a small Thanksgiving dinner for us, plus bring your own potluck type of deal. We brought deviled eggs, which many of our of Chinese friends thought were a dessert.  I mean, what are they, exactly? I could eat them as an appetizer, during the main course, as a dessert, a midnight snack.  I submit to you that there is no wrong time to eat deviled eggs. They’re really high up on my list of favorite foods. Anyway, the turkey was decent, the desserts were amazing and my son… mostly ate pizza. And some brownies!

December was a blur.  The family was winding down the end of the semester, both at the school and the university. There were Christmas carnivals, final exams, final papers, presentations, all the normal schooly stuff. I even took my history students on a field trip to a local history museum.  It was a fun trip! The museum is relatively new and super nice.  I even brought the family along and my kids (my real ones and my students) didn’t hate it. Success! Christmas also went all. The elf on the shelf only forgot to move one time during the month and Santa showed up and did his thing. We even did a gift exchange with our awesome neighbors/friends on Christmas Eve. We also had Christmas day dinner at a Thai restaurant with friends.  Great food! The restaurant is in a brand-new mall that’s pretty close to us. It even has an indoor go-kart track so of course the kiddos were happy. The holiday was magical was usual.

Annnnnnd…. now back to my shoulder. We decided to spend the week after Christmas in Guangzhou, for both my surgery and a vacation for the family.  We headed up to GZ on the 26th. I did a pre-op visit with the doc, where he fully explained the procedure – he was going to put some metal buttons on either side of my bones and splice them together with human cadaver tissue. They may be one of the strangest sentences I’ve ever typed.  Yes, to small metal plates to hold the bone in place, and human skin to tie it all down. And then he’d go over and fix up my torn tendon as well. Essentially, I’d walk out of the hospital as a Zombie (human cadaver tissue) Cyborg (metal implant). I know what you’re thinking: Yes, it would be neat to see a Zombie Cyborg movie.  No, you cannot steal this idea for your book and/or screenplay.

We did get to do some needed vacation stuff while in Guangzhou. We found out there was an Outback in a mall there and went multiple times. It’s not as good at the Outback in the States, but it’s a little taste of home – as little of a taste as an Australian-themed, US based restaurant located in China can be. We also hit up a really cool aquarium and zoo… both of which were… in a mall. China is a little… err… different about their animals. So yes, we were able to see beluga whales, artic foxes, wolves, sea turtles, and walruses at an aquarium in a mall, and then also saw a sloth, prairie dogs and pigs… at a zoo… in a mall.

  • Sea Turtles
  • Wolf
  • Seal
  • Artic Fox
  • Whatever this is
  • Sloth
  • Hottie McHotterson

And now… finally to the main event of the evening – surgery. I checked in to my super nice private hotel room late in the day and then signed my life away on a bunch of forms.  They made me do quite a bit of manscaping on my chest and arms, then told me I had to take a shower.  I dunno, I just do what they tell me.  They finally whisked me away to surgery, knocked me out and the doctor did what he’s paid to do.  I woke up feeling hunky dory, and was wheeled back to my room where my family awaited my triumphant return. It was a little weird that they had some kind of bleeding tube connected to my chest, but I guess that’s how the Chinese do it.  I spent an extra day in the hospital to recover and be monitored, then spent one more night in the hotel before we headed home. We had a driver pick us up and take us home, and of course got in a car accident 30 minutes from making it to our place.  Rear ended, everyone was okay, but pretty shaken up, and all of us were sore the next day.  But we’re alive and look better than either one of the cars.  New Years? I went to bed at 9:30. I think my son made it to midnight.

Okay, let’s wrap this up.  We’re into 2022 now. The wife and kids are back in school and I’m at home recovering nicely. I had my first follow up appointment yesterday and the doctor says everything looks good. I am currently planning on taking over the world, or killing everyone. It depends on which part of my Zombie Cyborg body decides to be more dominant.  Only time will tell.

More photos!

Men Should Cry More

I cried today. I was from working home and listening to music on YouTube, when My Old Man by the Zac Brown Band came on my TV. I cried. Buckets. I’ve heard this song before. I’ve cried listening to this song before. Heck, I cry every single time I hear this song.

Crying isn’t natural for me though. I’m a man after all. I won’t bad mouth my folks and tell you that they forbid me to cry, but growing up, whether it was family, teachers, friends or just society, I was told… as a boy… as I man… I shouldn’t cry. Maybe not even told, but I knew what was expected of me. Now, as a man, I should be strong. I should be Vulcan-like, and keep my emotions, especially crying, in check. You know something? That’s bullshit. Men can and should be as emotional and cry just like women and children.

I cried when that (SPOILER) old man died in Squid Game (Or… did he? Sorry, SPOILER). I randomly cry sometimes when I’m watching America’s Got Talent auditions and some emotional story moment pops up. I cry thinking about just how much I love my wife. I cry when I talk about my children. Tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of utter despair. I cry them all. But, for the most part, I feel pretty guilty about it. I shouldn’t. And I’m gonna try to stop feeling guilty.

I did some quick research. By quick, I mean Google. I ran across an article by Michael Murphy. It helped me a little. The article says what I was thinking, but in a better way than I can put down in words. So here it is for you, gentleman, and for the women who support you:

5 Reasons Why Men Need To Learn How To Cry

Men are expected to be very strong creatures who shouldn’t cry but are expected to just “man up” and deal with whatever comes their way. However, there is no law or written rule that says men aren’t supposed to cry, especially when dealing with some of life’s most challenging obstacles.

Crying is often associated with weakness, but that is not the truth — crying shows humanity and passion. It is seen as the norm for women and children to cry, but even at a young age men have been taught that crying is for women or that it makes them less of a man if they cry. This is untrue — if anything, crying truly shows the ability to deal with problems.

Here are a few of the reasons why learning to cry is an important thing for all men.

1. They Can Relieve Stress

Each day of our lives we are faced with something that isn’t ideal, a circumstance that could break us or make us. Sometimes these situations seem as if they are too much, but even when faced with these things, crying can act as a stress reliever and allow for built-up emotions to be released.

Stress is something that we all have to struggle with — from our daily tasks and duties at our jobs to having to afford rent and bills and car notes. It’s all too much sometimes and the best way that you can respond to it is through a healthy manner, such as exercise, crying, or meditation.

2. They Can Prevent The Need To Swear To Express Anger

When faced with adversity, many of us yell out an expletive or resort to anger as a resolution. It’s important to learn that cursing and getting angry or even violent doesn’t solve anything.

Crying is a healthy outlet for those frustrations. No one likes someone with a dirty “sailor’s mouth,” and sometimes crying is the best way, and the healthier way, to release that anger. We are all guilty of using profanity, especially when angry, but if we would only decide to cry instead, perhaps we could prevent that next ?#*@%!

3. They Can Show A Softer Side

Many men put up a tough exterior in order to prove that they are a man, or at least what society has created as the idea of a man. A man can show strength and vulnerability at the same time and crying can link him to his significant other and show that he cares. Crying reflects truly caring about the situation at hand as well as showing care for the person you love.

4. They Can Show Their Children That It’s Okay To Cry

Children look up to their fathers and many boys mirror their father depending on how relevant he was in their life growing up. Men are strong figures in their children’s lives and have to deal with a lot in life — raising and providing for the child, paying a mortgage, etc. This all must be done under the facade of a never-wavering figure who doesn’t cry and just deals with things. However, this is not true — sometimes men have to cry to show their children that it’s okay for them to cry. This shows their children that their father cares, and also shows that their father is human.

5. They Can Show Joy

Crying isn’t always a bad thing, crying can sometimes display joy or happiness. For instance, crying when a child is born or when graduating school. Crying is a healthy and necessary thing for all people — including men. Crying can help to release stress hormones and toxins from the body and aid in soothing certain emotions. So many associate crying with pain or hurt and sometimes crying is not to show those emotions at all but to show sincerity and honesty.

A historical record of the lost city of Atlantis (The one in China)

The hot and humid season of summer is almost over here in China. What does that mean you say? Nothing. It means nothing. The area we live in here in China will be sweltering until Christmas. Many folks in this region tend to get away from the heat by heading to the northern or western regions of China where the temps can be slightly cooler and the humidity isn’t constantly bashing you over your sweaty head. So, for our vacation this summer we… well we just went somewhere even hotter. But there were pools. And waterslides. And beaches. And Cronuts. So there’s that.

According to Wikipedia, which I quote here because my history students seem to think it’s the best source for factual information says that Atlantis ” is a fictional island mentioned in an allegory on the hubris of nations in Plato‘s works Timaeus and Critias, wherein it represents the antagonist naval power that besieges “Ancient Athens”, the pseudo-historic embodiment of Plato’s ideal state in The Republic.[1] In the story, Athens repels the Atlantean attack unlike any other nation of the known world,[2] supposedly bearing witness to the superiority of Plato’s concept of a state.[3][4] The story concludes with Atlantis falling out of favor with the deities and submerging into the Atlantic Ocean.”

I’m going to leave all those links in there in case you, like me, sometimes like to slip down the rabbit hole of often unverified information that is Wikipedia. Anyway, yes, we went to Atlantis. No, not the Bahamas. No, no, not the one in the UAE. No, my good friend, the lost city of Atlantis is actually in China. I mean yes, the Atlantis resorts have locations in Nassau and Dubai, but we choose the one in China for obvious reasons that are mostly due to an ongoing pandemic. We didn’t even know such a thing existed. It’s a little different to just search the web for things to do here in China because of many factors, but as I was randomly net surfing last fall, I stumbled upon Atlantis here in China that’s only an hour flight away. Plan A for this summer was to go back to the States, but that didn’t happen so we switched to plan B: spend too much money at an amazing resort and have a kick ass time in the process all while not strangling each other.

My better half made all the plans, as is her way. She loves planning and is really good at it, which of course frees me up to be lazy, so its a win/win all around. We planned to stay for a week in the area total, spending a few days in the tourist beach town of Sanya for a few days before heading further up the coast to Atlantis. We hit up Sanya last summer as well, so plans were a little easier this time. I’m not sure if my wife would agree with that though so you better ask her. But at least we were better prepared this time. We had our little green codes on our phones up and ready to show anywhere that was needed – the departing airport, the arrival airport, checking into hotels, going to some restaurants and wherever else anyone is worried about Covid-19. I think many in the US would freak out with these type of regulations, but honestly to me I feel safer and it gives me more freedom to easily go and do what I want. We also have our vaccines. We got the Chinese one of course. Don’t ask me what it’s called, or how effective it is, I just got stabbed in the arm twice so I could travel easier. Side note – I’m not sure, other than saving lives (obviously), what good the vaccine is for. I thought it would somehow make it easier to travel. I had this idea I could just show them my vaccination record and they’d be like, “Cool.. you got the shot. Have at it. Go crazy.” This didn’t happen though. Maybe it will in the future, but right now we’re smackdab in the middle of wherever this pandemic is going to take all of us, so everyone buckle up. And by buckle up, I mean get the damn vaccine.

Okay, back to the vacay. We spent the first few nights in Sanya at a lovely hotel that had a pool directly off our balcony. We booked a family room, because we just wanted two beds instead of one. What family meant at this hotel, was a room that our children would love – aqua-themed pandas on the wall, a tent, lot’s of color, a starry ceiling light thingamajig and numerous stuffed animals. The beds were moderately comfortable, the pool was fantastic and the breakfast buffet had enough western options so my super picky son could get enough calories. We did very little at this hotel other than swim and eat. We did head into town a few times. One trip was to an outlet mall. Yes, they have those here in China. It was kind like Tanger Outlets (for my NC and SC peeps) but much more upscale with a Prada store thrown into boot. On a second trip in town, we went back to the same little entertainment/shopping/restaurant area we visited last summer. On the previous trip, the place was a ghost town as the pandemic was just getting into full swing, but this time the joint was hopping. We went at my son’s favorite restaurant in all the land – Pizza Hut, explored the numerous shops and then, for no particular reason at all, I decided I’d bungee jump off a tall tower. My family was genuinely concerned for my life, but those things are totally safe right? What’s more, it was super cheap. That inspired confidence. Oh yeah – the guy at the top strapping me in and giving me all the safety instructions? He only spoke Chinese. So we communicated through a series of hand gestures and grunts, but by the end of my briefing I was pretty much sure I would jump successfully… to my death. Just kidding, more like only serious injuries. In the end though, I closed my eyes, did a backflip off the tower and bungeed safely down and back up without so much as a stain of pee pee on my shorts.

I have teased Atlantis thus far, but fear not, we are finally getting to the meat and potatoes of this blog post. We got ourselves a DiDi (the Uber of China) and headed up the coast from Sanya proper to the lost city of Atlantis. I keep calling it that because it sounds cooler. I mean, the DiDi driver just used his phone’s map to get us there, so obviously this place isn’t as lost as it seems. We got there way too early to check in, but we were allowed free entrance into their waterpark. So we dropped off our luggage, took some quick pics and then headed on to every waterslide Atlantis had to offer. Ok, I… me… just Dad, Rob… did all the waterslides. My wife doesn’t really like spinning around in circles while getting water up your nose. My daughter also doesn’t enjoy even the casual trip down a lazy river. My son, the champion that he is, did only a few of the slides with me, and then made his way back to the wave pool. So, that left me to do the more crazy stuff, like plunging through a see through tunnel surrounded by sharks (which were hard to see because there was so much water up my nose and in my eyes) all by myself – cue Celine Dion music here. The waterpark itself is pretty amazing though. Instead of actual tickets, or scanning something on our phone, the resort just took pictures of our faces and used facial recognition to let us inside the place quickly and efficiently. They have all the typical waterparky things – the slide that drops you down a pyramid at a mostly vertical angle. It reminded me of my days at the PTL waterpark. Ah, Jim and Tammy Fay. There were a number of other waterslides, the lazy river (that had tiny rapids), a wave pool with a full concert stage in the middle of it, a good selection of western food options, a kiddie section with surprisingly fast waterslides that I couldn’t ride because I’m an adult whatever dumb rule anyway, a dolphin show, a sea lion show, and a Cirque du Soleil type show in the water complete with some extremely attractive Russian performers.

Even with all the offering of the actual waterpark, I was a little worried we would get bored after numerous days we’d be spending there. Thankfully, Atlantis is a full resort with much more to offer than just a waterpark. They have an aquarium, 3 different large hotel pools, the BEACH of course, a train, helicopter rides, a small mall, a Gordan Ramsey restaurant and a bunch of other stuff I can’t remember because I’m old and forget things. We even forgoed the waterpark on a few occasions just to fit in as much as the rest of the resort had to offer.

Here are some highlights:

  • The Train Ride around the resort – It’s like a backstage pass to all the inner workings. We even got the see the dolphins lazily swimming in a behind-the-scenes area.
  • Gordan Ramsey Restaurant – This was a date night for the Mr. and Mrs. The food was excellent, but overpriced and there wasn’t nearly enough of it.
  • The Beach – China doesn’t have a lot of nice beaches. But this one is amazing. You snake through a lovely little path of trees and then the beach just is there, looking lovely both day and night. But they still won’t let me ride a jet ski without some dude attached to my back. Mobius would be so disappointed.
  • The Aquarium – Lost city themed, so the design is very cool. Most of your typical aquatic life, but they also had Belugas. One of them was being very inappropriate while we were there. I feel like he is my Patronus.
  • The Cirque du Soleil Show with Hot Russians – Surprisingly good water show with high dives, one of those ring of death things, hot Russians (Did I mention them?), a sea lion and a plot that make no sense whatsoever.
  • Cronuts – The waterpark had a shop that sold these delectable treats. We missed the craze in the States so it was nice to have them here. VERY good, and even my son craved them.
  • A full on Water Concert/Laser/Fire Show every night – Remember that stage at the wave pool? We saw a magic show, the hot Russian performers and then a wild DJ dance party where my kids proudly displayed how white we all are.
  • The Hotel Pool in the evening – a nice way to wind down with kids activities, a band playing Richard Marx tunes, and an excellent place to smash your forehead on the bottom of a pool.

I am the type of guy who usually wants to do something different every time we go somewhere. But I’d be more than happy to go back to Atlantis again anytime. All in all, we had an amazing vacation. The family is now gearing up for school starting in a few short weeks. Both me and my love are transitioning into new (better) roles with our companies and are excited to continue this phase of life. We continue to miss our friends and families in the States and around the world. I hope you stay healthy and happy and you too can one day have the privilege of seeing beautiful Russians swimming in a pool for your personal entertainment.

A Guest Blog Post

Rob’s been asking me for awhile now to be a guest blogger on his site. I feel that he always has the best words, and is certainly far more entertaining than I am, so I’ve yet to take him up on this offer. Until now, because this post is about him. 


You see, it seems that we now have an annual tradition for each November to bring forth turkey, stuffing, and major surgery. Last Thanksgiving he was recovering from reconstructive shoulder surgery after his scooter accident. 


On Thanksgiving Day this year, Rob had part 3 of a root canal procedure. He called me from the dentist’s office because the dentist found something on his X-ray that they felt needed to be addressed at the hospital. Of course this worried me because it accompanied bad translations like “blood clot,” and “hospital, now.” It wasn’t a blood clot, but it wasn’t just a cloudy tooth either. A full day and a CT scan later, I get this text:

Okay, so yes I worry a lot. My mind immediately went to cancer. Because large grey growth that isn’t supposed to be there is scary. See that large grey circle where the arrow is? Yup. See why I was worried?


I’ll go ahead and get to the good ending now. it wasn’t cancer. But it was a full week of worry and recovering from surgery before we found that out. He was admitted to the hospital the next day, and they ran all sorts of tests on him for two days prior to his surgery date: more CTs of his heart, lungs, other organs, etc., more bloodwork, an EKG in which they had to shave his chest and wrists, endoscopies, of course COVID, etc. … all to rule out “other possibilities.” Oh, and because surgery was to be in the facial area he had to shave most of his beard. While doing that, I also had a COVID test done so I could get permission to visit him in the hospital. Thankfully, it only takes one day for results to come back here, so I got to visit on day 2. I was quickly greeted by a nurse upon my arrival who was eager to tell me to go buy him a proper nose hair remover because his nose hair was not up to surgical standards. I looked at her like, ‘say what now?’ Yes, she gave me a piece of paper with “nose hair remover” written in Chinese and told me to go find the store near another little store where they could give me one. I did not walk in to the right store at first, but a kind man directed me to the nose hair remover store, and Rob successfully got his nose hair to appropriate surgical length.


In order to have that thing removed they had to put him under general anesthesia and take it out through his nose. They also sent some of it out for a biopsy. Here he is right after:

When we did a video call with him the day after surgery Abby started crying because she was shocked by his black eye and bloody nose. His nose continued to bleed non-stop all week. 


Throughout the rest of the week Rob endured a few more painful sinus endoscopies to remove surgery padding, clean out the surgical site, and put fresh dissolvable padding inside his face- wondering each day when he would be released from the hospital.

Meanwhile, I was only able to visit him twice this week because I got so incredibly sick with flu-like symptoms and was down for the count at home. I’m sure it was from the stress of it all. So I won’t be able to tell you all of the fun details of being in a Chinese hospital for a week. I’ll leave that up to him. I know it wasn’t fun. Finally, he was cleared to come home today! Although we don’t have official biopsy results yet, the doctors have told him from all the other tests and from everything they see, the growth looks to be benign.

So as usual, the Statons come out of situations like this on top. I feel like we’ve been able to prove time and time again we are resilient, so I’m not sure why these reminders need to keep popping up. Nonetheless, we endure. And this Thanksgiving, even though we had to cancel our little dinner, and postpone putting up the Christmas tree, it kicks off the Christmas season with an extra sprinkle of thankfulness for each other. I have a poster in my office that says “Nothing is worth more than this day.” It’s true friends. Now go hug your loved one.

One Mississippi… Two Mississippi… Three Mississippi…

Over my 10+ years of on again/off again travel blogging, I often find myself apologizing for months of no new content. So, yet again, I apologize non-constant readers, for my lack of new content. But behold, I now bring you a new blog post!

So what has my clan been up to the last 3+ months? Oh you know, same old same old. After our summer tour of China, we settled back into our hometown. My daughter had a birthday at the end of July, so we celebrated that by getting her some weird flamingo cake, a GIANT stuffed animal and, just as we did with my son, another visit the the trampoline park. Only this time, I forced my wife to join us all on the trampolines. Pro tip – wearing a skirt, even a long one, is not the best when jumping on trampolines. We ended the birthday festivities with a make-up tutorial and a sweaty dance party back at the crib.

August was mostly getting ready for Alanna and the kids to go back to school, though we did have our own sets of non-school related ups and downs. At the beginning of the month, we stumbled on two abandoned 15-day old kittens in a shoebox. Someone had left them outside our complex, in the rain. So, of course, we had to take them. We initially named them Mario and Luigi, but once we got them to a Vet, we switched that to Mario and Zelda for obvious reasons. The vet said the kittens were both sickly, had a few cat diseases and that he wasn’t hopeful of their survival, but we did our best to care of them anyway. They both seemed to be making great improvements but then about two weeks later, one of them faded and died, and the next week the other one did the same thing. Losing anything like that isn’t fun. It was hard on the kids, even though we thought we had prepared them by not giving false hope. In the end, we gave those two strays a warm, safe place to stay for their short lives. We are all okay with that.

Thankfully after that we focused the kids attention on family activities such as board games and outdoor exploration, as well as refocused them on getting ready to go back to school. China is pretty much in the clear as far as Covid-19 right now. Masks are worn on the school bus, but other than that, there is very little that’s different from anything that happened before the virus. Seriously, international schools are the bomb diggity. I’m sure there are plenty of bad apples out there, but the schools we’ve enrolled our kids in have all been pretty awesome. It also helps that I’m married to the principal of the school. I can send my complaints directly to her over dinner. The kids being back in school also gave me a little more free time, as my university didn’t really get up and running again until September. Even better for me, I am only teaching Freshmen courses this semester, and they didn’t come to campus until after the Mid-Autumn Festival in October. In addition to all the back-to-school prep, Alanna and I also randomly began to play in a pub trivia league. Our team came in 3rd the first time, and then we won the whole dang thing at the next event. Our prize? A massage package for both of us! Massages in China can be a bit extreme. Even though they started and ended with pomp and circumstance (some kind of hand washing ceremony at the beginning and a tea ceremony at the end), those massage ladies gave both of us a workover. I was sore for a week. We also celebrated my birthday in September as well. No big deal. 45. I’m middle-aged. Woohoo.

Before I got back to work, one of the university administrators retired. Her name is Mrs. Hu. No, I can’t pronounce it correctly. She was a nice lady that I rarely saw, but always smiled and spoke to me when we passed by each other. They gave her a retirement dinner and invited all of us to attend. I didn’t go to many of these functions last year for one reason or another, so I felt like I should make the effort for this one. Many of the Chinese staff I knew well were going, so I felt safe enough to give it the old college try – literally. They were even having it at a fancy schmancy hot springs resort. We weren’t actually going to the hot springs, just the hotel restaurant, but I did some scouting for Alanna, cause she will want to be going there soon. I bummed a ride with a co-worker to the event, as the chartered bus that they rented seemed like it was going to be crowded, and with our own ride, we could leave early if we wanted. So, we got there a little early and waited on the bus. I quickly knew this was going to be a little different of an occasion when the bus arrived and everyone filed off of it one by one. I learned from a quick looksie that I was the only white person in attendance. Everyone else was Chinese. Most expats are still stuck in their home countries, trying to get a visa and flights back to China. So there are a precious few of us working here in China, and I was the only one in attendance at the retirement party. Mrs. Hu came right up to me, thanked me for coming, and made some small talk about how our summer had gone. We then went inside. I tried to join my Chinese friends at their table, but then I was told that Mrs. Hu had requested my presence at her table. At this head table, sat basically what you would call a board of directors of the university. I really didn’t know any of them. I’m sure they make more money in one month than I make all year. They gave me a chair right next to Mrs. Hu and from there, the night got a little fuzzy.

Traditional Chinese dinners are served “family style”, with large plates of food being brought to our big round table. In the middle of the table, is like, I dunno… a lazy Susan type of turn table thing? So, they just sit the food there, and we all spin the thing around, using our chopsticks to grab portions and put them on our plates or in our bowls. I made sure to watch what everyone was doing first, as I am very cautious about doing anything stupid and breaking some unknown Chinese rule of eating. Apparently I was taking too long though, as Mrs. Hu just began to scoop things up with her chopsticks and drop them on my plate. I want to tell you about how amazing the food was. It really was. I think. But I wasn’t allowed to spend any measurable amount of time enjoying the food because of the constant toasting process. Everyone at the table individually toasted Mrs. Hu. They would say something in Chinese, and thankfully the Chinese professor on my left spoke some English and would give me a rough translation. So yeah, they’d toast, then we’d all drink. In between these toasts to Mrs. Hu, everyone at the table also came up to me, one at a time, and toasted me. Now, I get what’s happening. I’m literally the only white person there. I’m the elephant in the room. The white elephant. I had heard rumors of how the Chinese enjoy their drinking at parties like this and, truth be told, I was eager to see the process in action. So I took it as a bit of a challenge. I toasted everyone back. I drank every time they did, or they told me to. I am not smart.

Chinese drink a liquor called Baijiu. It is a clear grain-based liquor that is not unlike vodka or gin. Perhaps its a little sweeter. The “strength” of this liquor though is quite high on the old alcohol by volume list. Pretty much everyone at my table was drinking baijiu, but also had a glass of red wine. Neither of these glasses were ever empty, for as soon as you finished it, someone at the table or a waiter would immediately fill it right back up again. So yeah, each one of these distinguished guests came up to me, toasted me and made me drink their crazy Chinese alcohol. I would thankfully gain a small reprieve now and then as someone would come up with only their wine glass for a toast. But even then… you are… okay… I was… expected to “empty my glass” after each toast. The default toast in China is “ganbei” (sounds like: “gon bay”) which literally means “dry cup.” Yes, each time I would drink they would tell me to FINISH IT.

GANBEI! GANBEI! GANBEI!

There were also a LOT of people at my table. Honestly, I can’t tell you how great the food was, or even how memorable the hotel resort was due to the fact that the rest of the evening seemed a bit of a blur. I do sort of remember someone asking me to visit them in the their office for tea and another couple inviting me on their yacht to watch the pink dolphins. Thankfully I had a ride home and was no worse for the wear the next day.

I’m back at work now full time, no online teaching for me. Live classrooms are so much better. I helped run the Freshmen orientation program this fall for the university. I spoke at Convocation. They even invited my better half to give the keynote speech at a special conference day. It’s a LOT of work. Imagine your normal college orientation program, but with students who have never spoken English on a regular basis. Most Chinese students are taught English from a very young age. While their reading and writing of the language can be okay, their speaking and listening usually aren’t, because its just not something you practice. So looking at those kids faces on the first day of class, knowing many of them can’t understand what I’m saying, can be quite the challenge for both professor and student alike. One of my courses this semester is your general Public Speaking class. One of the first class exercises I do is an eye contact lesson where each student stands in front of the class, makes eye contact with 3 different people, and says…

One Mississippi…

Two Mississippi…

Three Mississippi…

Look, I can’t speak Chinese. Like, at all. Every time I try to say something in Chinese, people give me the “huh?” look, or many times just laugh at my mispronunciation. So, I may have had a little bit of sick satisfaction listening to ESL learners try to pronounce a word than many Americans rarely even spell correctly – Mississippi. Chinese pride themselves on being perfect. And for them, this was such a hard word. Most of them stumbled through the exercise at best, but seemed to enjoy themselves when I made them understand not to take the exercise too seriously and just have fun. So, yeah… we’re back in the swing of things here in China. Heck, I even have a Chinese volleyball tournament I’m in next week. I was in it last year. We lost all 3 of our games. This year though… probably the same. Who am I kidding? Hey, you folks in the US of A, errr… good luck on Tuesday. I’m very happy NOT to be there. Y’all take care.

A Whirlwind Tour of China

China. Two Weeks. Over 3000 miles traveled. Terracotta. Disney. 2nd Tallest Building in the world. Tropical Beach. I’m tired.

Our summer vacation, which we began setting up in the fall, turned out to be drastically different than we anticipated. Thanks, Obama. Kidding. But really… Thanks, Covid. Let me just preface this post by saying though – we actually had a summer vacation. Most people probably aren’t getting one, so we are very thankful for our situation.

Our original vacation plans were to travel to Italy and France this summer. I even had an inkling of a notion to slip over into Spain and run with the bulls. And the… Covid. Currently, we can’t even leave China. If we do, like many of our colleagues, we won’t be allowed back into the country until who knows when. So, we scrapped any out of the country plans. No going to Italy and France. No going home to the US for a few weeks. We can’t even go to Hong Kong or Macau, which are technically part of China. Plan A was a European vacation. Plan B was an American vacation. Onto Plan C… a Chinese vacation. Which of course, turned into a Plan D.

Plan C was simple – hit up all the touristy Chinese vacation spots – The Great Wall, Terracotta Army, and finally Shanghai… cause you know… Disney. My better half does all the planning legwork. I just sit back and argue about it when she brings up an idea I don’t like. She quickly had us lined up for Beijing to visit the Great Wall, but then it fell through. There was a “flare up” of Covid in Beijing and we were warned to steer clear. So we did. Maybe next year for the Great Wall. We then moved to plan D – Which would be Xi’an (Terracotta Army), Shanghai (Disney and tour Shanghai), then there was an option to visit Sanya, which is a tropical island in southern china for some beach R&R.

Before our trip could begin, we decided to teach two weeks at my wife’s school for a summer camp. Cause… they would pay us. So even though I can barely tolerate my own children sometimes, I signed on to teach a whole butt load of them. Two weeks of crazy humidity and crazy, but surprisingly well-behaved elementary children later, we were done, had pockets full of cash and were ready for our summer adventure to begin. We had a few travel options – one of them being by train. China has an extensive rail network with bullet trains, sleeper trains, all that jazz. And we’ve never taken a train as a family. Yes, we travel all over and back again and have never been on a train (Subway doesn’t count). Did we take the train this time? Nope. Maybe next time! We had some people tell us and read some reviews about their train experience, so we decided against it, for now. And besides, flights are DIRT CHEAP at the moment. I mean, DIRT CHEAP. The wifey found us some super inexpensive seats to Xi’an, and we were on the plane bright and early on a Monday morning.

This city has some history. It has, on multiple occasions, been the capital of China, since its founding around 200 BCE. They even have a WALL around the city. No, it’s not the original wall, but a re-constructed 14th century version of it. So, it’s not an ancient wall, but a Medieval wall. It still looks really cool. We stayed in a hotel that was a stone’s throw from the wall. We had only planned 2 days in Xi’an, though now I wished we would have had more, if nothing else than to eat all the delicious food there. There’s also a Muslim quarter, which came because Xi’an was a major hub of the Silk Road. There are three main streets (more like big alleys) that we walked through – food and collectibles abounded in this area. We also visited the Drum Tower – which has all the drums that were used back into the day to signify things, such start of the work day, end of the work day, storm approaching, etc. The drums were huge. Modern technology has made them obsolete but it was still neat to see them well preserved.

Day 2 of Xi’an is when we headed out to the Terracotta Army. Its about a 45 minute trip out of the city, but our taxi driver got us there in under 30 because he drove like an absolute maniac. We were totally confused when we got there though – where to go, where to buy tickets, do we pay in cash, do we need masks. We finally got all sorted out and then headed inside the giant complex. It’s a nice 5 minute walk from the road, through a lovely park area, and then you arrive at the “pits”. There are four of them, each at different levels of excavation. Pit 1 is the most famous, and largest, with mostly everything already excavated. The other pits are in various forms of excavation, with some of the pits only half way completed. It truly was an amazing experience, a must-see for anyone who is into history. The army was buried with China’s first emperor in 210 BCE. Yeah, like a long time ago. I won’t bore you with more history, but this was one of the main things I looked forward to when we knew we were going to be living in China. It did not disappoint. And to make our son happy, there’s a McDonald’s at the complex. But they didn’t have Chicken McNuggets. How can you be a McDonald’s and not have McNuggets???

After another night in Xi’an, we packed up and headed out uber early for our flight to Shanghai and Disney. Traveling right now is kind of hectic. China is broken up into provinces (think States), and each province or sometimes city wants you to have a special health code that they can scan on your phone to make sure you’re Covid free. You basically scan a QR code, fill in your information and you’re good to go. It’s not that simple though as most of the time the language is in Chinese or it’s just confusing in English.

We had to show these QR codes everywhere – getting on planes, coming into a hotel, going into Disney. We “thought” we had it all figured out as we waited in line at our gate to board our flight to Xi’an. We get to the dude that scans our tickets and he tells us to step aside for a moment. And then we were racially profiled. For being White. Or American, one or both I dunno. Even though we had our QR codes, and my wife even had a printed note (in Chinese) of where we live/where we’ve been, they still grilled us about everything. It was awkward and annoying, as everyone on the flight was staring at us like we had a disease. In retrospect, it was a mild inconvenience and pales in comparison to what other people go through all the time. So I’m not complaining. Silver lining – when we take these flights, my better half sits in a three seat row with the kids and I’m stuck sitting with strangers in the row across. On one of the flights, the two ladies beside me weren’t too happy sitting next to me, and in fact, waited until I had finished my plane-served snack and put back on my mask before they took off their masks and touched their food. But on another flight. I was sat next to a Mom and her son. As I looked over to my son to give him the Vulcan “live long and prosper” sign, the Mom and her son laughed, and then commenced to trying to make the sign with their hands. Through broken English/Chinese, I schooled them in the ways of the Trek and as I left the flight, we exchanged a Live Long and Prosper salute to each other.

We made it safe and sound to Shanghai and were whisked to a Disney resort to spend a few nights. Covid compliance is in full effect though, so we had to mask up pretty much everywhere on Disney properties, there are no meet and greets with characters, no fireworks, no parades. Other than that, it was Disney as usual. Well… Chinese Disney. At Hong Kong Disneyland, mostly everything is bilingual – in Chinese and English. Not so much in Shanghai. While the signage around the park has both Chinese and English, all the performances, rides, voice-overs were all in Chinese, so there were plenty of times when we just smiled and had no idea what was happening. Again though, it’s Disney and it’s fun.

Here are some highlights of Shanghai Disneyland:

Disney Hotel guests are allowed into the park a full hour before the general public. This let us knock out a whole section of the park each morning before it got crowded. Worth the money.

TRON Lightcycle was a blast. It replaces Space Mountain. You sit on motorcycles in this roller coaster and go both inside and outside at a fast clip.

Camp Discovery. It’s a ropes course. Yeah, I know… a ropes course. I’ve been on plenty, they are all basically the same. This one was awesome. It’s built around a Disney made mountain with waterfalls. There are three different trails you can climb around on. Each trail has different “levels” of ways to go. So, if you’re like my wife, you can take the easy route each time and just walk across simple bridges. Or, if you’re like me and my son, you can literally climb around a cliff edge against a waterfall as water is splashing down on you. This was by far my son’s favorite thing he did at Disney and a total surprise at how fun it was for me.

Blue Frog – Best restaurant we ate at while at Disney. There was a Cheesecake Factory close by, but we opted for this place and thankfully made the right choice. This spot had plenty of western options for the kids. The burger I had was excellent and my wife was able to curb her Mexican food craving as well.

Pirates of the Caribbean ride – Pretty cool experience. You sit in a “boat” and go through the different POTC movie experiences inside a huge indoor facility. They spent a lot of money here as the special effects were top notch. But in true fashion, the ride seemed to have a hiccup half way through – it stopped and we sat in mostly darkness for about 5 minutes before it started up again. They did make some kind of Chinese announcement, but we had no idea what it was about. I blame my wife. She broke a ride at Hong Kong Disney too. That’s her super power – breaking technology.

We rode pretty much every ride and saw most of the shows at Disney, but as this isn’t just a Disney Post, I’ll leave you with those highlights and of course pictures.

After a few days, we checked out of Disney and headed to downtown Shanghai – to the best hotel we’ve ever stayed in. I am not in charge of our finances, so my wife could have paid a fortune for all I know, but this place was the bomb. Have you ever tried a bidet? So here’s the thing. I lived in the UAE for a year. In our bathroom, there was a seperate bidet that sat next to the toilet. I never used it though, other than to wash my feet off. Well, this boujee hotel in Shanghai had one built into the toilet. The toilet seat was also heated, which is literally the smartest idea ever. Back to the bidet – it had a remote on the wall next to the toilet. You just pushed it, it did the business, and even dried you. The western world is missing out on this amazing device.

So, Shanghai. It’s the NYC of China. But cleaner. In 2010, we went to the world’s tallest building in Dubai. Shanghai has the current second tallest building, the Shanghai Tower, so we had to hit it up as well. The observation deck of this building is even higher than the one in Dubai. We did this on a weekday as well, so it wasn’t as nearly as crowded as it could have been. While it was a little overcast, we could see everything pretty well and enjoyed our ride to the clouds. We also heard there was a Taco Bell near our hotel. We got kind of excited. Is Taco Bell the most amazing thing ever? No. But, when you haven’t had some of it in a year, it’s a nice treat. So We headed over… and… it was closed. But wait! There was another location. We ordered for delivery and also got Papa John’s for the kids. We all gained 10 lbs from this experience. We also visited an aquarium while in the city, which is what tourists with kids do. I wish I could have stayed longer in Shanghai, if not for anything other than the hotel’s bidet.

Our final destination was Sanya. We left it as an option, but gave it the green light when we heard back from some expat friends who had a blast there. Sanya is a beach town on the island of Hainan in Southern China. It also happens to be on roughly the same latitude line as Hawaii, so well… we were in. We booked it last minute, so our hotel, although still pretty nice, was the last one we could find on short notice. Long story short – the pool was amazing, the views were spectacular and we still found western fast food for our kids. The only bummer was the watersports. The dude running them would only allow me on a jetski if HE went with me. I turned him down. But still, Chinese Hawaii was a great way to end our trip.

After two weeks and 3000 miles of travel, its good to be back home. We still have the rest of the summer to relax before our schools start up again, in whatever capacity Covid will allow.

The Whitest of White

The Whitest of White

A few years ago, for Father’s Day my wife bought me a DNA kit from 23AndMe.  I did the swab test, sent it in and waited about a month for the results.  When the results came back, they confirmed what I suspected all along – I was white.  Not only was I white, I was 99.9% European.  Like… very white.  The bulk of my ancestry is British & Irish, with a scattering of French/German and some Scandinavian to boot.  Here’s the statistical breakdown of Rob –

I’ve been interested in “where I’m from” for quite some time. But it took me until my 40s to stop being lazy and delve into my distant past.  I had some help.  A “history of” book about my family name was written in the 1960s. It covered present day (at that time) all the way back to the Middle Ages in England.  So, I grew up with this book.  It even said we originally were called Staunton and that we owned a castle in Northern England. But once the information age rolled around, some of this “history” quickly became outdated.  And by outdated, I mean false.  We didn’t own a castle.  In 2010, I visited this castle.  It’s beautiful. Everyone there was nice to us. They gave us the grand tour and we felt like VIPs the entire afternoon. But my ancestors never owned this castle.  They did, however, have a tower in the castle named after them. That being said, I had no authority to usurp ownership of said castle from the present-day occupants, The Duke of Rutland and his family. I took the named tower as a consolation prize though.

The family history book, though well researched, was a product of the time.  The writer, a distant cousin, did the research the old-fashioned way – visiting places, writing letters and making phone calls.  My father and sister were much more interested in our family history about 20 years ago, back when I was a college student and only cared about chasing girls all over campus. Dad and my sis, on the other hand, took a quick jaunt around North Carolina, visiting the graves of my grandfather, great-grandfather, and my great-great-great grandfather, Captain Frederick.  There’s a small family graveyard in Anson County, NC where quite a few of my ancestors, including Captain Frederick, are buried.  I finally took this same trip with my wife and children a few years go as well, visiting each grave and taking some pictures.  The land surrounding the cemetery in Anson County was owned by my ancestors, but fell out of the name many years ago. It was even up for sale and I was trying to think of a way to buy it so I could preserve the family heritage. I even have a VERY cool set of pictures – one of my Dad 20 years ago, and then me in the same spot a couple years ago.

Recent events however have given me a different perspective on heritage. Living in China and watching from afar as Covid-19 began to cripple the United States was horrible, but for me, it paled in comparison to what has been happening in the last few weeks. Race has suddenly become the most important hot button issue of the year – and for good reason. If you’re reading this, pretty much anywhere in the world right now, you know what I’m talking about – racial injustice. As I watched the news, the protests, and spoke to friends and family, I started to wonder where I, the whitest of white guys, fit in during all this. What role should I play? What role could I play?  I couldn’t protest.  I’m in China.  There are no protests here to attend.  Instead I supported my friends who were protesting – mostly privately though social media messages letting them know I loved them and supported them. That’s all I’ve really done though during this whole thing – support people privately.  I didn’t black out my FB profile picture on that day like many people did. I haven’t plastered my social media accounts with open anger towards injustice or unconditional love for those that are suffering right now. And I am ashamed of myself. I have basically done nothing except sit back and watch. And during this monumental moment in time, sitting back and doing nothing is the wrong thing to do. This shame propelled me to do some soul searching. It led me to re-evaluate many of my life choices – some that were good, but many that were bad.

Let me explain. When I thought about race and race relations this week, here are some of the memories that spilled over into my consciousness –

When I was in 5th grade at Wolf Meadow Elementary School, I saw a 3rd grader on the playground. His name was Kevin. Kevin was black. I saw Kevin kick a red rubber ball further than I thought anyone could ever kick a red rubber ball. Kevin, to this day is one of best athletes I’ve had the privilege of knowing. I went over to his house as a kid.  I ate apples from a tree in his back yard. I didn’t see anything different about him, other than his vastly superior athletic ability. But after those few times at his house, I never went back. The only times I saw him were at school or on the ball field. I made no effort to get to know him on a more personal level. I did nothing. Thankfully I still call him a friend today, even though I didn’t put much effort into it.

A few years later, my father brought home a young black boy to our house to spend the night, just so he could be comfortable and play with my toys.  That was what kind of man my Dad was.  He would do spontaneous acts of kindness for people.  The kid came from a poor family. They lived in an area I believe was called Silver Hill.  Though many white people referred to it as N**** Town. I don’t think I used the term, but knew what it meant, and never corrected anyone else when they said it. Here my Dad was, being nice to whoever/whenever, for no other reason than because he knew that’s what a Christian should do, and there I was, doing nothing when it mattered most.

In my Freshman year of high school, I played football for the JV Team. No, I wasn’t very good.  I also lacked motivation.  And was scared to get hit. Every day at practice, the defensive backs would participate in a tackling drill.  Basically, you had to get past one defender and then tackle the ball carrier.  I rarely made it to the ball carrier, because I could never get past Corey.  Corey was a Sophomore.  Corey was bigger than me and way more athletic. Corey was also black.  Even though Corey could dominate me anytime he wanted, he always encouraged me, even when he was knocking the crap out of me.  When I wanted to quit those drills, he forced me to continue.  He forced me to get better.  I liked Corey from the moment I met him. Corey started dating a white girl that year.  It was a huge scandal. Yes, even in 1990, decades after the Civil Rights Movement, a black dude dating a white girl was still a big deal. Many of my classmates didn’t like that Corey was dating a white girl.  They called him names behind his back. They said it wasn’t right. Many of them cited the Bible as a reference for why it wasn’t right. I didn’t see the big deal.  I liked Corey. I liked the girl he was dating.  They seemed happy. But, when people said those things about the couple, I said nothing. I had no vocal opinion of my own. I did nothing.

College upended my way of thinking in many ways.  For the first time in my life, I met an openly gay guy.  He was a great dude. We even became roommates. His name was Rick. Many of my fondest memories of college involve Rick in some capacity. Yet, when I went home from college for the weekend during my freshman year, and someone asked me if I had a gay roommate, I said no.  I lied. I didn’t want them to think I was gay, right? Rick was white.  But Kris was not. Kris came to college a year after I did. Kris was black. Kris was gay. Kris was one of the most talented performers I had every been on a stage with. Kris had more talent in his pinky than I in my entire body. Both Kris and Rick helped me understand how to love someone who didn’t love exactly like I did. But when assholes called and left hurtful, ignorant messages on our answering machine, I just erased them and moved on. I tried to hide the bad things from my gay friends, in hopes that they would have it easier. I didn’t protest with them. I didn’t speak out on their behalf when they were wronged. I did nothing.

My Senior year of college I was a Residential Assistant.  I was placed on a Freshman hall, with mostly black football players.  I got along with all of them and we mutually respected each other.  One night I heard screaming in the hallway.  I rushed out of my door to see a black kid running down the hallway with a chair in his hand, getting ready to bash it over the head of a white kid.  I intervened, put my body in between them, stopping someone from crushing someone’s skull in with a metal chair. The white kid had called the black kid a n*****.  While I was able to de-escalate the situation, I did nothing else.  I didn’t speak up for the black guy, nor did I confront the white kid and use it as a teachable moment.  I just went back to my room and hid away once it was all over.  I. Did. Nothing.

I did nothing for so many years.  I’m still doing nothing. I worked with a group of amazing young folks for two years.  I was their boss for most of those two years.  Some of them were white, some of them were black.  Some of them were Latino.  Some were gay, some were straight. All of them were amazing. These young kids, still wet behind the ears in many ways, were the first people to march, the first people protest on Social media, and they haven’t stopped. They are relentless. These kids deserve a much better life.  They – Jasmine, Taylor, Burns, Travis, Alyssa,Carter,CJ, Amanda, Aaron, Courtney, and the others I am forgetting to mention – they are warriors.  Social justice warriors. They are heroes. They are the fighters. They are the ones who are going to make this world a better place.  Watching them these last few weeks has made me want to do…. something.  I still don’t even know exactly what the something is, but damned if I’m not going to try to figure it out.

This is the first part of my plan – opening up about who I’ve been and who I want to be.

I started this blog post talking about my ancestors.  About my great-great-great Grandfather Captain Frederick.  I even showed you a picture of his grave.  That huge headstone/memorial honoring his memory.  What I didn’t show you though, was this –

See those smaller headstones? Those small, seemingly insignificant gravestones… are slave graves.  My ancestor was a slave owner. The man whose land I wanted to buy to preserve my heritage, owned… people.  Because of the color of their skin. I always knew slavery was wrong.  I also was ashamed of America’s past, yet I still wanted to pay tribute to someone in my family who OWNED PEOPLE. It doesn’t matter if he was nice to them. It doesn’t matter if he let them be buried on the same plot of land that he was buried on. That doesn’t change what he did, or who he was.  That’s not who I am though. That’s not who my father was, thankfully. I was raised to love people, no matter who they are. That doesn’t change my ancestor’s past, but it forces me to forge a better future. I won’t be honoring my ancestors. The people who were forced into slavery should be honored, not their horrible white master.

If the first part of my plan was opening up, the second part has to be stepping up.  I’m starting with baby steps, please forgive me.  I’m talking to my black friends.  I’m reading articles about racism.  I am reading books by black authors. I am supporting black businesses. I am denouncing the systematic injustice black people deal with every single day. I am voting for change this November. I am donating to causes that directly support Black Lives Matter.  Do All Lives Matter?  Hell yes.  But right now, Black Lives are the ones that matter most to me. Black Lives are the ones who are being targeted. Black Lives are the ones who are being wiped away simply because of their color.

Black Lives Matter.

I’m the whitest of white.  I’m Whitey McWhiterson. Most of my friends are white. Some of my friends might read this and disagree.  If you disagree with me, know that I love you, but this post is probably more for you than anyone else. I am no longer hiding behind my white privilege.  I am no longer hiding in a foreign country until everyone else makes things better. I am here.  I stand beside the oppressed.  I stand in front of them, as a shield, from anyone who would seek to oppress them. Black Lives do Matter.  Black Lives should Matter. And it’s time I did my part to make sure they do.

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