A Little Too Close for Comfort...

I'll start by saying that I've become quite used to different societal norms. I'm no stranger to shows of affection between people that are not what we normally see in the United States, and quite honestly I really don't notice it much at this point. Have I become numbed to it? Yeah, I'd say so. Different cultures, different norms, no problem. Some things though just don't quite translate well for me, and that usually revolves around too much touchy-feeliness. Not that I'm against a handshake or a warm hug. I love those things. Most of us don't really mind them when they come from friends or family members. There is a line that exists for me.

Our most recent stopover in Dubai, en route to the United States, gave me an opportunity to ponder this little matter a bit more seriously. I've grown accustomed to the increased scrutiny of my personal possessions when coming home to the U.S. and have even come to tolerate being treated as a suspect every time I go through with a medical device that is always singled out for closer inspection. After all, I want to be safe when I travel. I do find the "randomness" of the selection process for being wanded or patted down at some airports to be questionable, namely recalling a particular time we came through an airport in the U.S. and we were the only two in sight at security. We were asked to submit (perhaps "asked" isn't the right word) to a random secondary screening. Now, I don't know about you but I don't exactly find two people chosen from a population of two to be a random sampling.

Anyway, back to the most recent event. Anyone who has ever changed planes in Dubai knows that you always have your carry-on baggage screened when you are on your way to your connecting gate. No problem. They're generally pretty efficient and it doesn't take too long to get through, except when you have a huge herd of people with no concept of a queue trying to cut in front of you at the scanners. Still, the overall process goes fairly well and we usually spend less than 10 minutes getting through the screening there. This time was no different, and in fact was better than usual. Most of the time we're heading east, but this time we were on an American carrier heading west and for whatever reason we went in a different direction to our boarding gate, happily strolling through the screening checkpoint in mere seconds. We arrived at our gate to the U.S. government-mandated inspection already under way. Not only were our possessions inspected, yet again (and again, I don't really mind that) but I had a rather close encounter with one of the fellows conducting the pat-down inspections.

Now I've submitted to being wanded and patted down before, and usually it's not much of a problem. In most cases it's a simple enough process that reveals that I wear a belt and carry a mobile phone and some keys. Not really anything I'm too put off by. This time was a bit different though. Apparently the jerk that tried to blow up his underwear in December has aroused enough suspicion of anyone who shows up fully clothed to the airport to warrant a highly intimate encounter. I gladly emptied my pockets of any and all items that the screener detected with his hands, showing that I did have a wallet, an iPod, some keys, a mobile phone and one ball of lint per pocket. No major problems there.

Then my friend put on the smooth move. You've seen the TV shows and movies where the guy is at the movies with the girl and he does the big yawn and stretch hoping to land an arm around her. Well this guy was far beyond such subtle approaches. As he knelt down on one knee to check my legs out, apparently checking to see if I had anything wrapped around my ankles, I noticed a hand creeping upward. The last time another man's hand got to that point I was obliged to turn my head and cough. And it wasn't just the one hand that caught me a bit off guard, but the other hand that was thrust through the gap between my legs and resting squarely on my backside while the other one did its unwelcome exploration of areas where explosives neither reside nor are desired.

Now, I understand that this guy was simply doing his job. I can't fault him for not being thorough, as he may now know me better than my doctor does. I don't envy him his job either, as those parts of another man's anatomy I'd prefer to leave well enough alone and shrouded in mystery. At this point the only thing I can say is that the next security screener at the airport who needs to do such a thorough inspection should really consider buying me dinner first.

It's The Little Things That Matter Most...

Funny how it is that sometimes the smallest things are what make the biggest difference to us. We take a lot for granted overall, then when certain things are not readily available we discover empty holes in our lives. They're not always giant potholes, like those craters that create the pockmarked landscape we call the Doha road system. Many times they're more like the telltale signs of a long-passed case of childhood chicken pox, minor blemishes that we would prefer to be without.

This is a time for us to apply a nice Michael Jackson effect to those blemishes and fill in a few holes. For starters, you just don't realize how much you like having TV playing until you don't have it. We took satellite TV for granted while living in the U.S., then went without it for the better part of a year until earlier this spring when we decided to hook up the combined TV and Internet package through Qatar's sole provider of such things, Qtel. Actually we could have gone with Showtime Arabia and spent way too much money for way too little programming. Tried that right after we arrived here and we were quite disappointed with what we got. And to be fair, Vodafone is in Qatar trying to establish itself by offering mobile phone service, but several people I know changed back to Qtel after a less than impressive experience with Vodafone. However, that's just a matter of full disclosure. The real story is that I am writing this entry while watching Daffy Duck beamed onto my wall, thus plugging two holes in my life at the same time: TV and Looney Tunes.

We are but a short time away from some time outside of the Gulf, now preparing our re-tuned digestive systems for culinary bliss that is rarely found in this oven we call home. I speak of the creature of the curly-Q tail and cloven hooves, the pig. How much we took for granted a nice plate of pork chops or some real honest-to-goodness sausage for a biscuit, but we now find that the highway to ham is at 35,000 feet and frequently means leaving the region. So, allow me to place all American swine on alert. We are inbound and craving what lies beneath your pink surface. Quite simply put, there may soon be a new addition to the U.S. endangered species list.

I am also going to be watching some other people plug a few holes this weekend. We've reached the end for the seniors in our school. They are out the door today. Other students still have work left to do, but we'll be bidding farewell to the Class of 2010 on Saturday night. I've had the opportunity to work with some of these students now for two years and I've found them to be fascinating people. Many of them will go on to great things. At the moment though, before they can continue on to the aforementioned great things they must apply a little putty to a pit. They need that high school diploma, and they will be proceeding across the stage Saturday night to receive them and join the ranks of people who have crossed one of life's first big hurdles: high school graduation. I remember that day, and I recall how big it was at the time. It may seem small in comparison today, but without that hole being filled my life would more closely resemble the surface of Edward James Olmos' cheeks than the ProActiv-enhanced complexion proudly displayed by the likes of Jessica Simpson. Add a pockmark for a missing college degree, a missing masters degree, no teaching credentials, no overseas life, and so forth. Well, you get the picture. I'd be on TV telling the world how much I wished that ProActiv had been available when I was a younger man.

Anyway, sometimes it truly is the little things that make a different in our lives, whether it be TV service, a German sausage from the grill, or a piece of paper representing that you know enough to move on to the next stage in life. I for one will take all of the little things I can get.

The Heat is On

I'm guessing when Glenn Frey sang the song The Heat is On, the one from the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack, it probably wasn't from the perspective that I'm writing about today. In fact, I know quite well what that song was about and I'd say it's anything but. On the flip side, the title fits so I'll borrow it.

Summer has officially arrived in Doha and someone has definitely turned up the temperature just a bit. Just like last year it seemed like overnight we went from beautiful 80s and nice breezes to 104 and hot dusty wind. OK, so it really isn't quite as bad as I make it sound. After all, it is a dry heat. Unfortunately if you spend too much time out in it, it can soon become a case of dry heaves. Now more than ever water is essential, and a little sunscreen isn't a bad idea either. Even the nights are toasty, dropping into the upper 80s and low 90s. Soon however we will be heading back to the United States and we will have a little bit different experience awaiting us: humidity.

Collectively the experiences in Doha in the spring and early summer, followed by summer in the mid-Atlantic prepare us for August and our return to Doha. Instead of a dry heat, as mentioned previously, August and September bring intense heat and moisture to this place we call home. We'll be returning to a place where it's almost possible to swim in the surrounding air and where a short walk outside turns your sweat glands into a sprinkler system stuck on spray. Two years ago when we first arrived here, when we came off of the plane at 10:00 at night, we were hit in the face by a wall of heat and steam that nearly sent me back onto the plane for a return flight to the U.S. Now I have to admit that I'm glad I resisted that temptation as Doha has turned out to be an OK place to be. Still, that first blast was pretty intense.

In a lot of cases, harsh weather brings out the worst in people. We get cranky when we're uncomfortable, irritable when the temps are outside of our preferred zone. Yet we were quite fortunate to have encountered some people recently who were positively lovely people even in the blazing heat that is becoming Doha. Granted they were natives to this land of Qatar, so they're used to it. One of them who works for a petroleum company had commented on how blasted hot it gets where he works when he goes out into the field. Yet at the same time he and his friends were friendly and jovial as they helped us start our vehicle after we let our battery discharge by leaving the lights on. At one point we were unsure if we would get enough of a charge off of the vehicle we were connected to and were seeking a place to drift start it (gotta love a manual transmission) and the one guy said, "My friends will help you push it, of course." Warm smiles and handshakes as we parted company left us very pleased with the experience and the new acquaintances we had made.

That followed on the heals of a dealing with a very nice 23-year-old man working at Qtel, our local telecom provider. Having just changed villas we needed to get Internet, phone and TV connected and that meant a trip to Qtel. We love the branch at Villagio because we've always found the people working there to be polite, helpful and of a generally good disposition. Some other dealings with local companies and government offices have not felt quite as positive and the workers have not always been so accommodating, even some other Qtel branches have not been excessively pleasurable experiences. This one is different though. For whatever reason we get in and out, usually quickly, with everything taken care of. The young man working there was quite interested in conversation as he was entering our details and making the arrangements, and as we parted company with him we commented to each other on how fortuitous it was to have stopped there that evening.

Now, what exactly does this have to do with the heat? Well, nothing really. It's more a matter of examining how we are not necessarily defined by our circumstances. A visit to Qtel and a drained battery could have easily been a rotten evening. We met people who made our circumstances much more pleasant and we arrived back home with smiles upon our faces.

Earlier in the day, I had taken the opportunity to have a little stroll on the track at the school. It's become a bit of a routine to walk on the track for about 20-30 minutes each day when I find a break in the action. That varies from day to day, and I'm still technically on call during those times. Mobile phone for calls and iPod Touch for email, either of which could send me elsewhere on campus at a moment's notice. Still, walking allows me to collect my thoughts a bit and gets me out from behind my computer, where I've spent a lot of time recently getting some work done toward the end of this school year and the beginning of the next. So as I'm taking my walk one of our administrators says to me, "I can't believe you're out walking in this heat. Don't you know it's 46 degrees?" Keep in mind that he's Canadian and that 46 is Celsius, so do the math and you'll understand that it was quite warm. My reply? "I have my water and it's about the only time I have to get a little exercise. Besides if I do it now in this heat nothing I will face in the States this summer will bother me." He smiled, nodded in agreement and walked off, most likely thinking I'm a complete lunatic.

The heat indeed is on. The weather is hot. There's work left to be done. Things happen. Yet, at the end of it all it's our attitudes in those circumstances that matter.

A Thing Or Two About Mothers...

Some have said that I have an impeccable sense of timing. Others have said I get it right every once in a while. Either way, with Mother's Day right around the corner I guess now is as good a time as any to say a few things about mothers and motherly behavior. No, this won't be sappy like a Hallmark card with flowers, lace, cute little puppies and a sound clip of some gosh awful Barry Manilow song. Actually this is more an observation of what a mother is from my perspective.

Now, I don't really know what it means to be a mother. I do know however what it is to have one. Actually I've lucked out a bit in that department and have a couple of them. No, my father was not a member of some polygamist cult, and I'll thank you for not continuing to spread those horrid rumors. It has not been good for my reputation and it has the neighbors staring at me in a rather peculiar way whenever I leave the house. That aside, I do believe I am qualified to give commentary on mothers from a son's perspective.

First off, what is the job of a mother? What does she do anyway? Some would say she is the loving comforter among the parents. Some suggest she's the cook when friends are over. Still others say she's the person who keeps the house and has dinner ready on time for everyone to sit around the table and chow down. As nice as this sounds, it barely scratches the surface.

We have two dogs, and even though both are spayed females and neither has ever had a litter, and they are less than six months apart in age, I can draw some lessons from observing them. In fact, quite recently some of my observations have shed light on what being a mother is really all about. It's really not about conception, incubation and birth. I say that because I've seen one of our dogs act in a very motherly way toward the other, and they are entirely unrelated. On many occasions the older one will lie down beside the younger one and lick her a bit to clean her up, much like most of our mothers did for us when we were infants, only they put us into the bathtub instead because there was too much surface area on us to lick clean without running out of saliva. But she doesn't just clean the other dog up a bit. She also occasionally forgets that she's a dog and tries to hatch the other dog's head by sitting upon it. Now how is this motherly behavior, you ask? Easy. From time to time mothers need to demonstrate who is really in charge by sitting on their childr...I mean by putting their children in their place. And it's always for their own good, or so we've been told.

But motherhood isn't always that much fun. You can't sit on your children all the time and claim to be a candidate for Mother of the Year. It takes a more complete skill set than that. It involves acquiring skills that people spend lots of time and money mastering, but mothers do it without pay. They are chauffeurs in really large automobiles. I've seen mothers here in Doha driving vehicles large enough to live in and give each child his own room, with closets. I have a theory that some quite possibly might have indoor plumbing for such a purpose. On top of that, mothers have to be somewhat proficient in the skills of a nurse, at least a triage nurse. Bandages, kisses on boo-boos and an excessive supply of virtually any liquid that can sting like a nest of hornets when applied to a scrape or cut are her specialties. Many people spend years of their lives in college learning such skills. Mothers do it instinctively, and again without pay. Frequently mothers are highly skilled chefs, mastering everything from canned ravioli to a Thanksgiving smorgasbord. Friends who randomly show up are always welcome too. Mothers don't really seem to mind too much.

Exterminators. They can overcome paralyzing fears of mice, spiders, roaches, and the neighborhood bully to successfully dispatch them all. Some take care of such problems with a paper towel (with a healthy dose of ether for the bully) while others become trick shot artists with a shoe. No matter what though, they seem to find a way to get things taken care of, probably all while cooking some elaborate roast for the evening meal.

Experts at math. Many a mother has taken time to help her children get homework done. OK, so the homework may not be done right, but it is done. And all because of a mother's love.

So really, what is it that makes a mother? It's an unwavering sacrifice of self. Caring, sharing, loving, shouting, hugging, smacking, feeding, and ordering an occasional night in a bedroom without dinner. Most of all, it's doing what she believes is the best thing for her children and trying to prepare them to become good adults.

The mother figures in my life, both mother and stepmother, were not perfect. It wasn't their job to be perfect. It was to do what they believed was right for me. Did they succeed? Well, I'm still alive and I'm not in jail. I learned a lot from them. For example, I know that a hatchet and green paint in hand with the neighbor's white picket fence chosen as a subject for modern art won't endear a five year old boy to those neighbors. I really did only want to make it look nicer. Honest.

I guess what I'm getting at is that a mother is more than just a biological contributor to a child's DNA. A mother will love you no matter what, and hopefully will be able to forgive you for all of those things she still doesn't know about.

Anyway, since Mother's Day is upon us and I have two people to call (oh, and my wife will certainly want to call her mother too) I'm going to wrap this all up and wish all mothers a Happy Mother's Day. Thanks for everything.

Pride of the Yankees

Anyone who has ever seen The Pride of the Yankees recalls vividly Gary Cooper's incredible performance playing Lou Gehrig, the Yankees' great first baseman from those amazing teams of the 20s and 30s. So potent was the 1927 Yankees lineup that included Gehrig, Ruth, Meusel, and Lazzeri that it became known as Murderer's Row. Gehrig was a mainstay with the Yankees, playing 2,130 consecutive games through aches and pains. He was voted the greatest first baseman ever by the Baseball Writers Association in 1969, and not many have come along since that could challenge what Gehrig accomplished. It seems the only thing that finally slowed down the Iron Horse was a cruel disease. Gehrig was stricken with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a motor neuron disease that progressively weakens a person through muscle atrophy to the point that it is terminal for most people within five years.

Gehrig gave a famous speech in Yankees Stadium in which he said:

Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans.

Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day? Sure, I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t consider it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins? Then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Sure, I'm lucky.

When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice versa, sends you a gift — that’s something. When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies — that’s something. When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles with her own daughter — that's something. When you have a father and a mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body — it's a blessing. When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed — that's the finest I know.
So I close in saying that I might have been given a bad break, but I've got an awful lot to live for. Thank you.

Gehrig's farewell speech encapsulated his view of life quite succinctly. He did not believe that he had been given a raw deal. He did not think of himself as royally screwed. No, he valued the blessing he'd been given and the experiences he'd had. He showed dignity and class in the face of adversity.

They say you never know the true character of a person until you see him in the worst of circumstances. I know a man who reminds me a bit of Gehrig. A colleague and friend is facing the same cruel adversary that Gehrig's name is forever attached to. He is fighting a difficult battle with ALS. And yet in the face of insurmountable odds he carries on. His fight is not one that can be won, but the way those battles are fought shows the true character of the warrior. This man is a warrior who is fighting the brave fight. He is a model for the rest of us and I am proud to call him my friend.



This man is the one who brought me to Doha, seeing in me the qualities of a teacher that would fit in well at the American School of Doha. There are people that we meet and we remember the circumstances quite vividly. I remember Skyping to interview for the job and seeing him in his office with palm trees outside his window. I remember his friendly smile and pleasant demeanor putting me at ease as I pondered making the leap to the Gulf. I even remember vividly enough the first meeting that I recall exactly what I was wearing. That is the profound impact that some people have on others. Not everyone has it, but those that do are truly unforgettable.

My friend is leaving today to spend time with his family back home. He has earned the opportunity to be with them and to take as complete advantage as possible of the time he has remaining. I will remember what I am wearing today, for I am wearing black in remembrance of a friend and a colleague I am likely not to see again in this life. My friend, thank you for being a fine example of compassion and discipline, listening and leading, struggling and persevering no matter what the odds. You are an inspiration.

Games Geeks Play

I've long pondered what an Olympiad would look like if left to the inhabitants of the United States' deep south. I have these visions of toilet seat horseshoes, pole vaulting out of the bull ring, and the cannonball high dive. However, as of late my mind has wandered a bit more in the direction of wondering what geek Olympiad would look like.

Now before you go getting all upset with me and accuse me of lobbing nasty words like "geek" around carelessly let me just be on the level and declare proudly that I am a geek. It's OK. I'm comfortable with that. I revel in it sometimes, especially when I have three or four different desktop operating systems running at the same time -- on the same computer.

So why might I have such a sudden interest in envisioning a steady stream of awkward people who can spell their names in binary code from memory participating in such a series of events? Probably because of this last weekend's happenings. See I coach a robotics team at my school and we have just participated in our culminating event of the year. 33 teams from all over the region gathered here in Doha to compete in the Botball Challenge at Carnegie Mellon University - Qatar. Our team went, competed and finished second. We were strongly in the running to win it too, but a couple of unforeseen issues snagged us and we had to settle for second. Still, this is a huge accomplishment for a team of students who will all return next year, save the lone senior who was our most skilled programmer.

Out of this it occurs to me that there are indeed games that geeks play that collectively could be consolidated into an Olympiad of sorts. Aside from the robotics work our kids did we had two other teams compete in a programming competition at CMU-Q, finishing second and fourth respectively. Definitely another geek game there as it's just not something that the rest of society does with great regularity. But the people we teach thrive on these things. Place them in front of a bank of computers, or better yet let them bring in their own laptops, and watch them bask in the glow of a backlit monitor. They draw energy from it. They are like plants in the sunlight, undertaking a form of digital photosynthesis. Oddly enough, after a time you will notice that they even lean toward their monitors as if soaking up radiation from the EMF put off by the devices themselves. It's almost a symbiotic relationship, where the computer draws digital stimulation from the student and the student gets mental nourishment from the computer. Quite a sight to behold, and quite gratifying when you've invested so much time in working with the kids to see them take on the same enthusiasm you have.



So where does this grand spectacle that is geek sport go from here? For us, it takes us to preparation for our next competition. We must defend our national championship in the National Robot Olympiad and hope to be a strong enough team next year to get to Manila to compete at the world level again. We are quite proud of our team this year. They are a great group of kids. They will be missed when they have gone, but we will expect great things from them in the future when they have gone on to compete in mental sports at the professional level.

You Should Have Heard Just What I Seen.

The vintage song Who Do You Love by Bo Diddley has that famous line in it. An incredible music artist whose music inspired some incredible acts, and a great guitarist that the world lost almost two years ago. Sometimes I just have that urge to listen to the old rock and blues classics, and Bo is one that periodically whets my musical palette. Not a great vocalist in the classic sense, but the deep down feeling in his music was what helped set him apart from many others of his generation. He inspired the likes of Buddy Holly, Jimi Hendrix, and Clapton (if you need me to include a first name you've lived a deprived life.)

So why am I having one of those Bo Knows moments? Well, I'm looking back upon the week or ten days that have just passed and somehow it seems that in that time period I've seen a significant variety of stuff in just a day to day life. Someone I know once quipped that Doha is one of those rare places where you can see a Lamborghini and a truck load of goats on the same street. This is truer than most people realize, and extends well beyond just the fancy cars and livestock scenario.

For starters, we had the annual Powderpuff Football game at school. Now, a bunch of girls playing football is actually a lot of fun, especially when they've obviously put time into preparation for it. But what do you do when a bunch of junior and senior guys wear their cheerleader outfits to school on the last school day before the game? I for one gained a new-found appreciation for abayas. I've always found it interesting how well Scots can pull it off but it doesn't necessarily translate well to other cultures. Case and point:



So, with that behind us attention turned to other things, like bidding farewell to a couple of colleagues. Our principal is leaving us this year, and not necessarily on terms any of us might have preferred. He is struggling with an illness that will eventually consume him, and yet through it all he has persevered and has been an example to the rest of us of determination and class. A beautiful dinner on the lawn at the home of one of the employees was a fitting send-off to a good man and a fine leader. He and his wife, also in the school's employ, will be missed here. We shared some good times, good food, and wonderful tributes to a man who has helped shape this place into a great environment. Emotional for sure, but in a celebratory sense rather than one of mourning.

That dinner fell in the midst of our conference softball tournament. The names on the lineups make Major League Baseball's rosters look like the member registry at Augusta National Golf Club. Students from all over the region playing softball was quite a sight to behold. Not all of them were especially good, and in fact the caliber of play was frequently somewhere between Little League baseball and a Chinese fire drill. Still, a lot of fun to watch and a couple of very good championship games.

On the subject of colleagues and things going on with them, one of our teachers is an exceptional artist. Actually several are, but this one in particular has done work of a high enough quality to have its own exhibition. The Grand Hyatt was a nice place to attend a beautiful art exhibit, complete with nice snacks, good conversation and some gorgeous works. Of course no evening at the art expo would be complete without leaving someone confused, at least when I'm describing completion from my perspective. As Crystal and I, having completed the rounds through the exhibit, were standing off to the side and at the end of one of the displays, we were taking up casual conversation and doing nothing in particular. Apparently though it must have appeared that we were somewhat taken by an obscured piece of art as another colleague approached us to see what we were so intently looking at and conversing about. Upon seeing nothing on the wall she turned to us and commented on the stunning revelation that we were not even remotely engaging in a conversation about art, to which we informed her that it was our plan all along to lure some unsuspecting soul into our trap.

Now, anyone who has spent any length of time in this part of the world knows that rain is a luxury that even the greatest wealth of the shaikhs can't buy. We have to take it when we can get it, and in the last two weeks we've seen rain four times. Softball in the rain, happily just enough to knock down the dust, was quite pleasant. Then earlier this week we saw thunder and lightning the likes of which I had never seen. The sky was literally lit up constantly and the low roll of thunder carried on for the longest time. I actually got up to go out and see what was happening outside as the regularity of the flashes had me thinking there was an emergency vehicle with lights on in our neighborhood. Instead we were treated to quite the display of mother nature's light show.

Finally, last night we paid a visit to the Qatar Marine Festival, mainly because Crystal was keen to see the sand sculptures that were being created by artists from the world over. I would hardly suggest that I could do justice in a description and instead think these pictures say all that needs to be said.







Spectacular is a great description. Now, this is why Bo's words ring so true.