Posted on Thursday, September 15, 2005                                      by Roger Spence

Ah, summer! It has gone by so fast. I love the warm and sunny days of summer. It's so sad to see them slip away to the cold and cloudy days of winter. Sure, I like the changing seasons in Ohio. I enjoy autumn leaves and crisp air while hiking through the state parks. I also enjoy the anticipation of spring with all its greenery. Even still, summer is definitely my favorite season.

I don't know if I would get tired of having warm weather all the time (e.g., San Diego), but I'd sure like to find out!  I guess I like summer so much because so many of my fond memories revolve around summertime activities. There's swimming, amusement parks, ice cream, bike rides, iced tea, lemonade, vacations, and cook outs.  We cooked out on our grill A LOT during the summer as I grew up. Since my dad and I both liked to grill, one of us two usually did it. My mom would often suggest we either grill out or have a big salad for dinner. She said it was too hot to cook in the kitchen. I think she just didn't like cooking much. (Love you, mom!)

I remember many summer days I would spend the afternoon swimming in the pool. After I was totally exhausted and sun-soaked, I would fire up the grill and throw on some meat -- steaks, sausages, hamburgers, hot dogs, etc. Once dinner was ready, we would recline to eat under the shade of a huge maple tree in the backyard.

Speaking of hot dogs, you must have heard by now of the annual hot dog eating contest held in the U.S. The winner for the past five years in row was a skinny Japanese man! His record is eating 53.5 hot dogs in 12 minutes. His secret is to eat the hot dog first. Then he dips the bun in water and swallows it. Repeat. Isn't that freaky?!?

         To see the full story visit  http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/07/04/hotdog.contest  

   Posted on Thursday, April 7, 2005                                                     by Roger Spence

Dr. Harold Hendrick, a noted speaker, said that we need to learn to laugh.  Especially, we need to learn to laugh at ourselves.  The reason we are often so serious is that we don’t take God seriously enough.  Wow!  That’s profound.

I’ve been reading Binu and Susan’s updates about organization, which are good for a few laughs.  Keeping a clean room is usually not at all a problem for me.  Anyone who’s been to my house would agree.  (Though I’ll admit I left my college dorm room a wreck for my parents to see, just so I could see their reaction.  You literally couldn’t see the floor for the clothes!  And then there was that time that I was so depressed that I went on a five day potato chip and Oreo binge.  I didn’t shower or anything.  Just kidding.)

I may have a good handle on my house, but my TIME is another story.  College was one time where I really needed to be disciplined with my time.  I took some tough classes my junior year.  When my parents found out that I wasn’t doing as well as they had hoped, they called my academic advisor.  (Is that not too much!?!)  He proceeded to call me up to talk about my study habits. 

I was already intimidated by my advisor, so I wasn’t looking forward to talking to him about my grades.  Fortunately, it wasn’t too bad.  He suggested that I write down everything that I do for one week.  As I did that, I was shocked to discover how much time I wasted!  He had lit a fire, and some things were going to change!

One Sunday evening, I planned out my life for the week, down to every 15 minutes (e.g., 8-8:30 breakfast; 8:30-9:45 class; 9:45-10 walk home; 10-10:30 study).  My roommates knew how laid back I was, so they laughed at my new militaristic schedule.  Their jeers were a strange sort of premonition. 

You see, I had stayed up quite late writing up my new schedule.  The next day when it came time for a three-hour study session, I decided to take a little nap, which turned into a three-hour nap!  I was so discouraged.  It was all downhill from there.

         Looking back, it’s kind of sad, but it still makes me laugh.       

   Posted on Thursday, February 17, 2005                                            by Roger Spence

The Language of Love

When it comes to languages, I’m of a Jack-of-all-trades and definitely a master of NONE.  Not even English.  After all, I’m second generation hillbilly.  I try desperately to use big, superfluous (what?!?) words to show how edumacated I really is!

 I’ve studied French and Japanese, and I know a handful of phrases in other languages.  I still lament the day I chose to study French.  My high school counselors told me to study Spanish.  They said it would be much more useful to me than French, regardless of my career path.  Yet, all my friends were taking French.  Blast!  I certainly could use Spanish (e.g., missions trips to Mexico!)  And the French are sometimes high-minded and frown upon feeble attempts at speaking their language.  (This is from personal experience in Paris.)  I know that women really like to hear French – la langue romantique BLAH BLAH BLAH –  but it doesn’t have the MACHISMO of Spanish.  Enough bemoaning French.

                I’ve heard that the Japanese people are exclusive about their language and culture.  This means that non-Japanese people can never be fully accepted into the inner circle.  If that’s not intimidating enough, how about an alphabet (a.k.a. “kanji”) which the Japanese people spend their entire lives mastering?  Whew!  Even so, I think it’s a cool language.

                And then there are those languages where I know only a few useful phrases.  (Hmmm…. when will I EVER need to say, “I want a chicken egg” in Malayalam???)  I must say that the most gratifying time is when people really encourage you to speak their language.  Whether it’s speaking in Malayalam or Tamil, I’ve never received more encouragement to learn a foreign language.  Maybe it’s because it looks so strange to hear such words out of a white man’s face.  Or it could be the off chance that I nail the pronunciation.

                Enough musings for now.  A bientot.  Mata ashita.  Hasta luego.  Later.       

   Posted on Thursday, January 13, 2005                                            by Roger Spence

My Resolution

Cholesterol (LDL) . . . 153 (borderline high).  Yikes!  How did that happen ?!?  Let’s see . . . the past few months:  working out – seldom; eating out – often (and not salads).  I guess it’s time for a change.  And not a New Year’s resolution, since we all know they last three weeks tops.

I like to hit the gym.  I just got sick and got out of the habit.  No problem there.  But fresh fruit and veggies in the winter?  I’d much rather have a nice, juicy beef roast with mashed potatoes and GRAVY!  And cold water in the winter???  Rather hot chocolate or coffee. 

I recently saw the movie “Super Size Me,” a documentary released in 2004 that set out to prove that eating at McDonalds is unhealthy.  (Sorry, Susan.  I have to talk about those good ‘ol chicken nuggets and french fries.)  I found some facts from the film very interesting.  I think they’ll help keep me “on the wagon.”  See what you think! 

·         More than 60% of Americans get no form of exercise 

·         The average American walks 5000 steps (2.5 miles) a day.  [Recommended:  10,000 steps a day] 

·         Cup holders in cars are being made larger to hold the 7-Eleven Double Gulp – 64 oz. (half gallon), 700 calories, and contains 48 teaspoons of sugar! 

·         McDonald’s fries and homemade fries were kept under glass containers as an experiment.  After 2 weeks, the homemade fries were covered in black mold.  After 10 weeks, there was NO CHANGE in the McDonald’s fries.  Scary. 

·         Chicken McNuggets are made from chickens which are altered to have unusually large breasts that are ground up into a chicken “mash,” mixed with stabilizers and preservatives, pressed into familiar shapes, breaded, deep-fried, freeze-dried, and shipped to a restaurant near you. 

On second thought, that orange sounds pretty good.  And where is my YMCA card?

   Posted on Thursday, December 9, 2004                                         by Roger Spence

Home for the Holidays

The Christmas holiday is a time for family to gather together.  As I think of my family at this time of year, I am reminded of warm memories from my childhood.  There was that one year – I was around 10 –I got out of school a week early to go on vacation.  I thought it was SO COOL that I was having fun while my classmates were studying.  And I wasn’t even playing hooky!  (which, by the way, I have never done)  For vacation, my parents and I celebrated Christmas with my grandparents in Georgia and my sister and her husband in Florida.  Then we celebrated Christmas at home in Ohio.  Three celebrations and three times the gifts!  I must admit, though, when it was sunny and in the 70s on Christmas Day, something felt VERY WRONG.  I was rather used to a foot of snow.

                While I’m reminiscing, let me share another memory from my early childhood.  My father was working at a factory on a “swing” shift, which meant he worked many evenings and nights.  If he worked the graveyard shift, he would bring me home donuts in the morning.  This made me very happy.   Later, my dad took a pay cut so he could work day shifts during the week.  He felt like he was missing out on much of my life and wanted to spend more time with me. J

                My mom was never excited about my dad leaving her and me home alone evenings and nights.  She thought having someone to talk to would help pass time and take her mind off her fears.  So she and I would listen on our CB radio to the police scanner and truck drivers.  Truck drivers often have a “handle” on the CB – a pseudonym or nickname.  My dad’s handle was Roger Ramjet, named after a popular cartoon character.  You see, my dad and I are both named Roger.  So my mom’s handle was Lady Ramjet and mine was Ramjet Junior.  It was exciting for me to talk to truck drivers.   Since I lived in Smalltown, USA, their lives seemed so adventuresome.

                Stay tuned for more stories.  God bless and enjoy your Christmas holiday!

   Posted on Thursday, November 4, 2004                                         by Roger Spence

Who's Hungry?

The name's Roger.  I am an environmental scientist from Ohio, and I love to travel.  Most recently I went to Mexico on a mission trip.  I like the outdoors, play the guitar, and love to listen to music.  (No country, please.)  Well, enough about me.  Welcome to this new IPF column entitled, “The Chronicles of Roger Ramjet.”  This first installment is about a humorous dining experience.

Have you seen the movie “Joy Luck Club”?  If so, you’ll remember the scene where a Chinese-American girl brings home her American boyfriend for dinner.  Her mom places a huge bowl of food on the table while apologizing that it is to not salty enough (in a customary self-deprecating way).  The boyfriend quickly grabs the salt shaker and seasons the dish, and then winces with embarrassment. 

                And did you know that in Chinese culture it’s a compliment to the chef to belch after a meal?  Or that Japanese believe that slurping long noodles will give long life?  As an American, I find these customs odd, and, frankly, rude.  Though I’ve never had to eat in a Chinese or Japanese home, I have eaten many times in Indian homes.

                One of the first dinners I can remember was with an Indian family that I barely knew.  I found their hospitality overwhelming.  I was always taught to take a small amount on my first plate.  One, it’s not good to look like a pig.  Two, make sure there is enough for everyone else.  Well, my politeness was ignored as the mother dumped a mound of rice and other dishes on my plate.  I insisted that she had given me plenty, only for her to continue piling food on my plate!

                I was very hungry, and the food was very good.  Still, I didn’t want to ask for seconds.  Again, the mother prodded me to take more.  I reluctantly took more on my plate.  It turns out that the mother was thinking that I didn’t like her food.  After all, American and Indian cuisine are very different.  Yet, when I quickly ate my second plate, she realized that I really did like her cooking.

                 In order to be a good host, one must make sure that the guests are pleased.  For the Indian woman, it means that her food is enjoyed, whether chai and cookies or a several course meal.  It seems that most Indian women assume that I won’t like their cooking.  When they discover that I am pleased with what they made, it amazes them to no end.  I admit that I have on occasion claimed to not be hungry only to devour some Indian cooking just to get a reaction!

                But seriously, I consider it a blessing to have been invited for so many homemade Indian meals.  Growing up, “spicy” meant a little extra pepper!  And “ginger” was a name for blonde-haired dogs!  Who knew that I would like Indian curries and pickles so much?  Well, I hope you found this entry amusing.  I’ve only begun to share from my treasury of mirthful stories.  Look out for more to come.