Who is Owain?

Charis, Owain and I had an excited and much anticipated trip to Portland, OR to be with our deepest and dearest friends, but now we have to wait until July. An hour before take-off found Owain throwing up with a 103 degree fever.

It was hard to not go. Terribly hard. I was sad to not BE with dear friends, have in-depth, meaningful conversations, be stimulated, challenged and encouraged intellectually and spiritually, see flowers, grass, mountains and ocean, take off my long underwear and heal the cracks in my hands with moist, cool air.

I was terribly sad that the great people of the Northwest did not get to meet Owain. Yes, you all see his picture all the time in this blog, even see a movie here and there and hear great stories. But to meet him in person is unbeatable. Sure you can know what a saxophone sounds like by listening to a CD, but have you heard Warren Rand or Renato Caranto from two feet away with your insides booming like speakers? Sure you can see pictures of bald eagles flying down the Red Cedar River, but to be in a canoe and watch them sail over and ahead of you - an indescribable sight.

- Owain laughs and smiles at everything.
- He dances with his feet planted, but every other part of his body moves. Moves to the music.
- He plays my saxophone like a kazoo and if I take the mouthpiece off he gets mad and makes me put it back on to play.
- He knows how to create a drum beat on the synthesizer piano. I do not know how.
- He pulls books off the bookshelf, walks up to you and turns around with his arms out enough so your hands can slide in and pick him up.
- He loves to do acrobatics, which he calls acrobats, which sounds like "ah-ke-duh"
- When singing the alphabet he fills in A, B, O, T and Z
- At the end of a book, he says, "all done."
- Whenever you take start to take his clothes off for any reason, he tears them all off and declares with much anticipation: "hot tububub!"
- When it is time for hot tubbing, he slaps his bare stomach with both hands simultaneously and squats up and down to his own internal beat.
- He has no fear.
- Anything dropped or fallen merits an "oopseee."
- When you are carrying him and he wants something, he stretches one arm out and opens and closes his hand while kicking you with his feet like you are a horse.
- "No" is his answer for everything. Charis will ask, "is that yes no or no no?"


All of this has made me start rethinking: Who is Jay? I do not know. I know that nothing planned goes as planned and to have no set agenda for a year from now. Who knows what will be going on? I know this - I miss having mentors. One exciting part of going to Portland was to see people who truly guided me in mentor relationships. Dennis Plies has always been a guide in my thinking, questions and spirituality. Dennis is a dear friend, a natural and playful teacher. I was also going to see Connie McDonald, a mentor who taught me how to teach. I was going to take a saxophone lesson from Warren Rand.

I do not have any mentors here yet and I am realizing this is hard. I have not become dear friends with a Dennis. I have not met anyone who teaches half as spectacularly as Connie. I have not heard an alto, or a tenor for that matter, within a 150 miles radius with as much soul, sound and oomph as the players in Portland.

I spent all day fixing a hot tub with about 8 different leaks. Who the hell am I to be doing plumbing outside when it is 25 degrees? I am cutting down trees. Truly, who the hell am I to be using a dangerous and powerful chainsaw dropping giant trees? I tried dropping four at once, chaining them up and having the two pull the other two in the direction I wanted. I almost succeeded. And I almost killed myself. I never knew what a beet was until after college. Who the hell am I trying to grow organic food for myself and community and live on the food all year?

Truly. Who am I to be doing the things I try? I grew up in the suburbs, marching on a football field, bagging groceries and getting C's in English class. The knowledge passed down to me means I should be a pastor. I do not even know what a pastor is anymore.

I know I am a father. I do not have a choice in that. What will I teach Owain? I want to teach Owain how to live here on the farm. I want to teach Owain all about what is around us here at the farm. I want to teach Owain about music. I want to teach Owain to become who he is. Yeah, I'd like to teach him how to plumb well, how to build decks that are level, how to not plant tomatoes over potatoes so as to avoid blight, how to use a chainsaw so it is not in the neighbor's shop half the time, how to set up a greenhouse once. I hope Owain has a smoother learning curve than I do.

Jay