I Could Never Let the Darkness Replace the Thought of You

It is good to be back in Abilene, although I will be heading back to the Motherland soon enough. I always love being back in East Texas and it is hard to be there for short amounts of time because I just want to sit down, relax, and not worry about when I will be heading back to school. Christmas Break might just be the best thing about college because you have an entire month with no responsibility to school, and you are able to relax and unwind for a considerable amount of time.

I finished up Catch-22 on the drive back yesterday. It is an incredible book, but I would not recommend it to everyone. It is written like no other book I have ever read, and if you really need a completely linear plot structure then Catch-22 is probably not the book for you.

Last night I began First Among Equals by Ken Starr. It is about the impact of the Supreme Court on American life, with special focus on the court after the retirement of Chief Justice Earl Warren in 1969. I have always been fascinated by the Supreme Court, particularly because it is the closest thing that we have to an oligarchy in the United States today. If you think about it, you never really hear anything about the justices except for what is written in their opinions. In this age of talking heads and constant news barrages, they exist in a place that is on the edge of our field of view. They do not appear on Bill O'Reilly or Meet the Press, they do not write guest columns in the New York Times, and they are not really beholden to any one. That kind of unchecked power, once they reach the bench, is rare in America today, and is tempting because of its raw quality. It will be interesting to hear Starr's perspective, particularly because of his former career as Solicitor General of the United States.

One of the most enjoyable moments that I had last week was on a run with my Dad. My Dad usually rides the bike for exercise, but last Wednesday the wind was up, so we choose to go for a jog. As we ran up towards the high school, he began to breathe heavy as we settled into a regular pace. Once we reached the back gate, and made the turn for home, he told me that I could go on and run ahead so I would be able to get in my usual workout. He always tells me this when we are riding or running, but my response is always the same. If I leave the house with him, I am going to go with him as long as he goes.

Some fathers and sons are brought together by throwing the football or baseball, and we did those things, but my Dad and I found common ground in my teenage years through another sport. Around my junior year of High School, I began riding my bike again. Call it the Lance Armstrong Bug. I found whatever bikes that I could and I went out and rode. I rode an old mountain bike all over the grounds of the new high school, and I rode an old Bianchi road bike up and down Hill Creek Rd. in the sweltering East Texas Summer. One day, my Dad wanted to come along. As we began to ride the rather gentle hills on Hill Creek, he began to labor. I don't know if I have ever seen him breathe so hard in my life. When we got back to the house, he was worn out, but he was hooked. By January of that year, we had both purchased Trek Mountain Bikes, and the race was on. We began to become cycling fanatics, even to the point of buying bikes that my Mom and sister thought were ridiculously overpriced. What do they know about quality? Our time together was spent on the bikes. Often we would not talk much at all on the ride, but there was a type of understanding. He would watch out for cars as we rode along busy roads, and I would wait for him at the top of hills. He has done things that he probably never thought he could do, like riding the 64-mile Beauty and the Beast in 2003. One day, we will ride the Hotter than Hell Hundred together. Some people might look at activities like cycling and running as ways to simply stay in shape or shed pounds, but I see avenues of understanding. I see means of experience and growth.

As we ran back towards the house, the sun broke through the clouds in a dazzling show of brightness. I began to reflect on all that my Dad and I had experienced together in the name of a such a simple activity as exercise. I began to understand that after my statement, we ran along without exchanging words, but enough had already been said.