Every week or so I check my hometown newspaper to see what has been happening back in the quaint suburban community where I grew up. I was so saddened to read this story about a police shooting of an 18-year old Tigard High graduate. I never really met Luke (the victim), but his mom, Hope Glenn, is a longtime-fixture in the Tigard soccer community. She has coached Tigard classic soccer teams for years and years.
Here are several links about this terrible incident:
The Tigard Times story discussing the aftermath
The Oregonian's Steve Duin's article
Some Indymedia postings about this (including a senior picture of Luke Glenn)
The Myspace page set up by Luke's friends
There is also a transcript and audio recording of the 9-1-1 call from the incident available out on the web, but I'm not going to link to it because it is really difficult to listen to. You hear the entire situation unfold, and it's absolutely tragic to hear a mother go through that.
I'll be praying for the Glenn family and for the officers who were attempting to do their job.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
This was a very good week...
It was a very busy week, but very good. A few of the activities that I got involved with at school turned out really positively for me. Definitely thankful...
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Last Ducks - Sooners post, I promise
Check out this video that my friend Charlie sent me.
Apparently Oklahoma has also been on the receiving end of some horrible calls!
Apparently Oklahoma has also been on the receiving end of some horrible calls!
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Death Threats?! You've got to be kidding me...
C'mon Oklahoma fans...This absolutely crosses the line.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Pics from the Ducks game
The game against Oklahoma on Saturday was probably the most amazing sporting event I've ever been to. Just the extreme roller-coaster of emotions and the crazy outcome made it something I won't soon forget. I know, I know, the Ducks got some HUGE breaks at the end of the game in the form of some disputed calls. But you still have to look at the game as a whole and at the fact that Oklahoma still had a chance to win it at the end (with the field goal) and the Ducks made the plays. An amazing game...
Thursday, September 14, 2006
A whole bunch of pictures
Here are several pictures that I've been meaning to post for the last few months. Essentially they are the pictures that I would've tried to post had I not taken a hiatus to do the Law Review competition and get started with school. I think you can view them larger if you click on them (you will be taken to my Flickr site).
Check them out at www.muskband.com
I didn't think so...
Check them out at www.muskband.com
I didn't think so...
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
What a great story...
Those of you who know me well might know that Bob Welch is one of my favorite writers. I had lunch with him a few weeks ago and it was a great time. Here is his article from today's paper:
Mother-made veil enhances clarity of love
By Bob Welch
Columnist, The Register-Guard
Published: Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Saturday, at Grace Community Fellowship in Eugene, she waited at the back of the church. Waited for that hand to gently take her arm, as she'd imagined, and escort her down the aisle to the young man she would marry.
For Deena Hanson, it was a small dream, sure. But, at 21, the University of Oregon senior had learned not to dream too big.
Growing up in San Bernardino, Calif., she remembers her mother, Roxanne, making veils for two little girls taking their first communions. Enter Small Dream No. 2: "Mom, someday when I get married, will you make me a veil like that?"
Roxanne said sure.
Nearby, Deena's father, Steve, smiled as the girl left the room. "You know, you're going to have to make that veil someday. She's gonna remember."
Steve doted on Deena. He played the heavy when it came to keeping the three boys in line, but Deena was his "little honey." He spoiled her as much as a minimum-wage mechanic could. And told Roxanne he looked forward to that walk down the aisle with his daughter someday.
advertisement When the brain cancer returned, though, he couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take the idea of living like a vegetable if the last-ditch surgery didn't work. So he made a choice that, in a mind twisted by disease, he thought was best for all: He wrote a note, saying how much he loved them all, went to the garage and put a bullet through his head.
Deena was home when it happened. She was 10.
Two years later, Roxanne remarried and the family moved to Waterville, Wash., a no-stoplight town near Wenatchee, where her new husband's folks lived.
She worked as a waitress and, during summer harvest, weighed trucks hauling wheat.
The marriage went bad. Fights. Restraining orders. After five years, Deena watched another man leave her life. But the divorce settlement allowed the family to stay in the doublewide rent-free.
Deena, meanwhile, poured herself into school and sports at Waterville High. Made all-state in basketball. As a senior, she was chosen class valedictorian. In her graduation speech, she didn't talk about changing the world, but about friends who had saved her life when, on the senior trip, she'd gotten caught in an Oceanside, Wash., undertow.
"Wasn't a dry eye in the gym," remembers Roxanne.
Deena won scholarships to Washington State University and paid for the rest of her schooling through loans and working at the recreation center. ``(Towel Folder of the Semester'' Spring 2006). She majored in psychology. And decided to teach.
Last summer, at Wildhorse Canyon, a Young Life camp in north-central Oregon, she met the young man now waiting for her in front of the church.
She worked the ropes course. He was the camp videographer. She noticed how involved he was with the campers, his sense of humor. He noticed her zest for life - and how much of his ropes-course footage included, uh, her.
He popped the question eight months later during an Oregon Coast sunset. Later, in Waterville, the phone rang. "Mom," said Deena, "remember how you said you'd make me a veil?"
Roxanne broke into tears. "I knew by Deena's voice he was the one for her," she says. "When her father died, she had a tough, tough time. But that night when she called - I've never heard her so happy."
Roxanne had a friend drive her to Wenatchee - dead battery in her '78 Olds Cutlass - and she bought the finest piece of tulle she could find. She spent three weeks making the fingertip-length veil, its edges embellished with hundreds of hand-sewn silver beads. Later, she took a Greyhound bus to Eugene.
On Saturday, the veil looked beautiful on her daughter, who waited at the back of the church, then felt a hand gently take her arm.
It was her mother's. Arm and arm, two survivors of life's undertows. As the pianist played Pachabel's "Canon in D," Roxanne proudly walked Deena down the aisle to the fortunate young man she would marry - my son, Jason
Mother-made veil enhances clarity of love
By Bob Welch
Columnist, The Register-Guard
Published: Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Saturday, at Grace Community Fellowship in Eugene, she waited at the back of the church. Waited for that hand to gently take her arm, as she'd imagined, and escort her down the aisle to the young man she would marry.
For Deena Hanson, it was a small dream, sure. But, at 21, the University of Oregon senior had learned not to dream too big.
Growing up in San Bernardino, Calif., she remembers her mother, Roxanne, making veils for two little girls taking their first communions. Enter Small Dream No. 2: "Mom, someday when I get married, will you make me a veil like that?"
Roxanne said sure.
Nearby, Deena's father, Steve, smiled as the girl left the room. "You know, you're going to have to make that veil someday. She's gonna remember."
Steve doted on Deena. He played the heavy when it came to keeping the three boys in line, but Deena was his "little honey." He spoiled her as much as a minimum-wage mechanic could. And told Roxanne he looked forward to that walk down the aisle with his daughter someday.
advertisement When the brain cancer returned, though, he couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take the idea of living like a vegetable if the last-ditch surgery didn't work. So he made a choice that, in a mind twisted by disease, he thought was best for all: He wrote a note, saying how much he loved them all, went to the garage and put a bullet through his head.
Deena was home when it happened. She was 10.
Two years later, Roxanne remarried and the family moved to Waterville, Wash., a no-stoplight town near Wenatchee, where her new husband's folks lived.
She worked as a waitress and, during summer harvest, weighed trucks hauling wheat.
The marriage went bad. Fights. Restraining orders. After five years, Deena watched another man leave her life. But the divorce settlement allowed the family to stay in the doublewide rent-free.
Deena, meanwhile, poured herself into school and sports at Waterville High. Made all-state in basketball. As a senior, she was chosen class valedictorian. In her graduation speech, she didn't talk about changing the world, but about friends who had saved her life when, on the senior trip, she'd gotten caught in an Oceanside, Wash., undertow.
"Wasn't a dry eye in the gym," remembers Roxanne.
Deena won scholarships to Washington State University and paid for the rest of her schooling through loans and working at the recreation center. ``(Towel Folder of the Semester'' Spring 2006). She majored in psychology. And decided to teach.
Last summer, at Wildhorse Canyon, a Young Life camp in north-central Oregon, she met the young man now waiting for her in front of the church.
She worked the ropes course. He was the camp videographer. She noticed how involved he was with the campers, his sense of humor. He noticed her zest for life - and how much of his ropes-course footage included, uh, her.
He popped the question eight months later during an Oregon Coast sunset. Later, in Waterville, the phone rang. "Mom," said Deena, "remember how you said you'd make me a veil?"
Roxanne broke into tears. "I knew by Deena's voice he was the one for her," she says. "When her father died, she had a tough, tough time. But that night when she called - I've never heard her so happy."
Roxanne had a friend drive her to Wenatchee - dead battery in her '78 Olds Cutlass - and she bought the finest piece of tulle she could find. She spent three weeks making the fingertip-length veil, its edges embellished with hundreds of hand-sewn silver beads. Later, she took a Greyhound bus to Eugene.
On Saturday, the veil looked beautiful on her daughter, who waited at the back of the church, then felt a hand gently take her arm.
It was her mother's. Arm and arm, two survivors of life's undertows. As the pianist played Pachabel's "Canon in D," Roxanne proudly walked Deena down the aisle to the fortunate young man she would marry - my son, Jason
Monday, September 11, 2006
Ah, the life of a college student
I wish I had my camera now…I’m sitting out in front of Autzen Stadium waiting for the ticket window to open so I can get tickets to the Ducks-Oklahoma Sooners game. I am surrounded by a sea of tents and people in sleeping bags. I can actually hear someone in a tent near me snoring. But this scene isn’t really that interesting or new; it happens every time the Ducks have a huge football game (i.e. Oregon vs. USC last season). What makes this morning distinguishable is that some of the students waiting in line have set up a big screen (nay, “huge screen”) TV and they are playing NCAA Football on their Xbox or PS2. They have some type of a generator or battery system that allows them to run all of this equipment, and they have pulled a couch out in front of Autzen’s ticket office. It’s like they moved their family room out here, complete with screams of how bad the Beaver’s quarterback Matt Moore is (they’re playing a Civil War football game). Pretty impressive…
Update: Because I have a 9:00 class and because there was a huge line at Autzen, I decided to go to the EMU to pick up my ticket. What a great decision. I’m inside where it’s warm, I’m only about 30 people back from the window, and I have a short walk to my school when I get the ticket. Definitely a gamble that paid off.
In other news, here is more proof that EVERYONE should have a blog: http://www.zimels.blogspot.com
This is the new blog that our friends the Zimels are starting to post on. They are currently living in Tigard but preparing for a move to Jacksonville Beach, Florida. They have three boys and if I would have had a brother, I would have wanted him to be like Adam. It will be sad to see them leave the area, but we also have one of those friendships where I am confident we will remain as friends even after they move.
Update: Because I have a 9:00 class and because there was a huge line at Autzen, I decided to go to the EMU to pick up my ticket. What a great decision. I’m inside where it’s warm, I’m only about 30 people back from the window, and I have a short walk to my school when I get the ticket. Definitely a gamble that paid off.
In other news, here is more proof that EVERYONE should have a blog: http://www.zimels.blogspot.com
This is the new blog that our friends the Zimels are starting to post on. They are currently living in Tigard but preparing for a move to Jacksonville Beach, Florida. They have three boys and if I would have had a brother, I would have wanted him to be like Adam. It will be sad to see them leave the area, but we also have one of those friendships where I am confident we will remain as friends even after they move.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Absolutely. Amazing. Story.
Strongest Dad in the World
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]
I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.
But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.
Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.
Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?
And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.
This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.
``He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an institution.''
But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.''
"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want to do that.''
Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.''
That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''
And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon. "No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.
Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''
How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.
Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?
Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.
This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time'? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.
``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the Century.''
And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack arteries was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.''
So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.
Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.
That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. `The thing I'd most like, '' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''
Another video here.
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]
I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.
But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.
Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.
Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?
And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.
This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.
``He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an institution.''
But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.''
"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want to do that.''
Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.''
That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''
And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon. "No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.
Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''
How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.
Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?
Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.
This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time'? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.
``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the Century.''
And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack arteries was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.''
So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.
Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.
That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. `The thing I'd most like, '' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''
Another video here.
Two Duck blogs
I know it's been a few days since my last post, but I'm still struggling to get up to speed in school and blogger.com has been really weird the last few days (very Mac unfriendly). Anyway, I know there are a few rabid Duck fans out there like me who enjoy reading about the ins-and-outs of Oregon athletics. Here are the links to two of my favorite Duck blogs.
Behind the Ducks beat
The Ducks Blog
Big game this weekend against Fresno State...
Behind the Ducks beat
The Ducks Blog
Big game this weekend against Fresno State...
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