35, Part 1

I have to say, birthday 35 was pretty great. A near two week vacation to Brussels and England. The former for beer and relaxing, the latter to reunite with friends and attend the wedding of our friends, the pub landlord from our village when we lived in England. And we had beer there too. I mean, c'mon.

Brussels has long been on my bucket list for a beer-cation. When it first made the list, it was because I was into dubbels, tripels, and quads. Mainly due to their strength, my craftbeer infancy, and my wallet appreciated the bang for the buck. The last couple years, Brussels has meant one thing: Cantillon. Sure, I was happy to partake of all the other lambics, and other styles, but, if I'm being honest (and I am) it was always Cantillon.

Mrs Butler and myself enjoyed walking around, taking in the sights, seeing the Grand Place, going to the war museum, EATING. We enjoyed our B&B, the company of our friend who came up from Germany, and making new friends thanks to the craftbeer world & social media. All those things hinged on the beer, the bars, the culture of beer. Well, at least for me.

Moeder Lambic was a great experience. Matter of fact, we went three separate times. How can you not? They have Cantillon on cask, a host of world greats, including largest US selection, and they let me walk their cellar. Orval fresh as SIX days, old as eight months. Comparing them side by side was a real treat, and I kind of fell in love with it all over again. Rare and vintage beers, including 2002 Cantillon Lou Pepe Kriek....only 180€. I passed. The staff was great, and by night two, we felt like regulars. Really a must for anybody visiting Brussels who has interest in beer.

Delirium Cafe was ok. Much hyped due to the largest beer selection in the world, but overcrowded for the same reason. Three floors of fun, we enjoyed the top floor, where we could hear ourselves think. Enjoyed several Mikkeller Spontan series variants here--the Gooseberry, Cranberry, and Framboos. Was nice to see my local regional gems Prairie available too. A definite place to stop in, but not my cup of tea. Also, unfortunately, to get there, you must walk past a thousand maître d's all aggressively clamoring for your business. 

We visited two hidden gems beside one another, though their names escape me. Found through an Instagram friend, one was a hub for the great thinkers, artists, and writers of the early 20th century. Remnants of their time spent drinking plastered on the walls in the form of scratched notes, pencil drawings, IOUs and correspondence. A pleasant place if you can find it, but beware the steep spiral staircase--use the rope!

Next door was a bunker from WWII, a series of underground rooms. Very cool atmosphere: dark, smoke darkened walls, good beer selection and picnic table community seating. Interesting place, definitely not touristy in any way.

That brings us to Cantillon. First, everyone who says it's in a rough neighborhood, doesn't know the differ difference between rough and poor. Second, if you're in Brussels and skip it, you are missing out on not just world class beer, but history. My wife and I were joined by our friend Neil who is stationed in Germany, and an Instagram friend, Andreas, an American photographer living in Brussels. Lucky for us, Andreas speaks multiple languages, is a member of the Cantillon Museum, and gave us a better tour than we could've given ourselves. For 7€ you get a pamphlet that guides you along a self tour through the various rooms of the 100+ year old brewery. Mash tuns, open fermentation tank, barrel room after barrel room greeted us as we moved throughout the old wooden building. Wood being an important distinction, because that is where the wild yeasts that gives lambics their delicious tartness live. Sticky floors from rupturing casks, spider webs in every corner, and the gleam of the one piece copper coolship are memories I'll have forever.

Upon finishing the tour, you get two taster glasses of some of the Cantillon basics. After that, you're welcome to sit and order on premises bottles that are a bit more rare. I say a bit, most US beer nerds would lose their minds and half their wallets...like I did. Of course, I brought a small haul home too. How could I not? We had a Zwanze 2012 and 2013 and a 50°n-4°E between the four of us, over three and a half hours. Sitting there, talking beer, life, with a couple other beer friends, in that place was the check mark on the bucket list. Such a great time. 

Funny thing too, Mrs Butler, who has never appreciated beer, decided at Cantillon that she does like sours. Go figure, when she decides to do something, she does it big. Not only does she like a rarer style, she likes the best, and hardest to acquire. Not to mention the inevitable price tag. Oh well, we knew she had good taste, she landed me...

I'll write about the England side of the trip next time, more memories made with good friends over good beer. A continuation of one of the best two weeks of my life. 

Cheers, 

Chris

A Departure...

So this past week has been trying. Lace is in Africa, doing good things. We are here. Middle of America. Trips are no different; nothing new. 2, 3 day trips are the norm. They work for us. We need those trips. We need breaks from each other, our personalities dictate that.

This is different.

Lace is half a world away, in a third world country with a population that isn't, *ahem*, fond, of Americans. She is being welcomed by villagers, but in the city, as an American, as a woman, as a Christian, I know she is being targeted, derided, or maybe even worse, completely dismissed.
She is there to HELP. No agenda, other than to help growth of agricultural knowledge, sustainability. Yet, she has escorts, protection. She wants to help make them better farmers, help them feed themselves, help them long term. That doesn't matter. The people in the villages are receptiver; the people planning the next coup, the next overthrow, the next governmental change only see her as a threat.

Its a matter of philosophy, of outlook, of hope, of power, and of course, of religion.

The girls--our girls--don't understand all that. They just see Mom as a hero, as a model of how the world should be. They are right to do so. They are also naive. They are kids. They miss her. At the basest level, they know she is helping kids, people 27 flight hours away; 9 hours time difference. They know her heart for help.

But they miss her. They are kids. And they know that there are 7 more of these the next 2 years. They know that there will be misses, gaps, needs.

A 13 year old, turning 14. enduring changes and middle school strife. Starting Track & Field. Not fitting in. Awkward. Not wanting to talk to anybody, least of all her step-dad, then needing her mom; resorting to her grandmother, her Nonni.
A 7 year year old, so fiercely independent, so aggressively against all rules...until she realizes how far away Mom is. Then wanting to talk so bad, she breaks down crying because she can't even bear to do so.
A handicapped 5 year old who gets affected by a loud word, a loud noise that isn't from her own throat. Not knowing how to communicate, not possessing the capabilities, but knowing that when she talks to Mom, she isn't close.
A Dad, struggling to provide the answers, coming up woefully short, feeling strung out. Needing to provide, to sustain, and losing on all fronts. The teenager doesn't talk. The 7 year old revolts. The 5 year old just plain struggles.

But then the teen offers help from nowhere. The 7 year old gets lovey, gives hugs. The baby, shows increased understanding. They know that Dad is struggling too. They seem to see through all the other stuff, that Dad needs help too.
Its not consistent. It doesn't fix everything, but, it bridges the gap. It carries the moment. it helps.

Maybe, just possibly, perhaps, we're doing something right; some words we say get through. Some lessons stick.

There is a husband. Struggling. Lonely. Longing. Feeling so far away from the one they long to be close to. Praying for safety. Praying for good works to be done. Praying for a safe return. For however long that is. A day. Two. Hoping. Questioning. Wondering.
These aren't easy circumstances, they are, by far, not the worst. There are many others in similar, and crazier, more dangerous, more perilous situations.

But they aren't me. I'm not them. I can't relate, nor can they
.
I'm thankful for those around me checking in, stopping by, praying. Small towns are the best in these times. It means more than I can even begin to describe.

I hope when I pray, it is felt that way also:
By the wives whose husbands are away, defending our country, defending our way of life, working 80 weeks; providing for their families.
By the husbands, like myself, who are learning how valuable our mothers, grandmothers were--who didn't have a chance to work other than to stay at home.
By the single parents, who work multiple jobs, missing events, looking ahead to a future where they can be present, hoping it wont be too late.

We are all in this together, and I, for one, am so thankful for the people in my life, the people who make these rough times somehow easier, more bearable. You know who you are, and you are loved, and in turn prayed for and cared for and will be blessed for all you do.

Thank you...

C

Goodbye

Goodbye

Goodbye to the cold and rainy and wet
Goodbye to all the new friends we've met

Goodbye to the little things,
like washers, fridges, and roads with rings

Goodbye to right hand drive
I'm going back to the other side

Goodbye to all the history; the churches, the castles
I'll think of you instead of the hassles

Goodbye my Monday morning crew
I hate to leave you to just two

Goodbye to the Busy Bee ladies
Thank you for loving my babies!

And Mary gets an extra special thank you,
without you, I'm not sure what we'd do!

Goodbye to my train driving mate,
the next beer and round will have to wait

Goodbye my local landscaping lager lout
Next time we meet, you'll be drinking stout!

Goodbye to the Golf Society guys,
you who shoot low and score so high

Goodbye to all the people with all their charm
Goodbye beloved Thatcher's Arms

Goodbye to the landlord who made me feel at home
I can't thank you enough for the kindness shown

Goodbye is not how I feel, in the end
So I'll choose to say, till we meet again.

Thank you all so very much!!
Chris

1 year down

While I sit here exhausted, trying to arrange all my thoughts of the last couple weeks back home and the last year as a whole, one thing is for certain--I am blessed. Now that doesn't mean I am always happy, of course it doesn't, that is just ridiculous. It also doesn't mean that I wouldn't change anything. Nonetheless, I am overwhelmed at just how lucky I am sometimes.
First off let me start by saying a giant thank you to all of my friends and family back home that made for a very special 3 week vacation. It was much needed and much appreciated. We crammed a lot into the first two weeks as a family and I just about killed myself the last week running all over. Wouldn't have changed it though, too much good stuff is good sometimes.
OK, so a quick rundown. Golf for me the day after I got back probably wasn't a good idea and my scores showed that. No harm done. Sunday school was great, getting to catch up with good friends, and having several groups invite us over was wonderful as well. Thank you Evans and Sheehys, and Gunnemans thank you for stopping also. Racquetball Monday was an experience. Fun to be back out there, not so fun to stink it up so bad. Dentist Tuesday resulted in everyone having good news except Rian, who is back to having Mom and Dad brush her teeth. Yikes, kid! Wednesday, my folks showed up and took us for some Mexican (oh how I missed you so!)...(parents and the food) after more racquetball. Friday morning, Dad and I did something we hadn't done in ages. Single digit age for me I think. We went fishing with my neighbors, Matt and Paul, thanks to both for the invite and Paul for the boat. What a fun time. Cigars, couple cold beverages, and we all caught--winning combos. Poker that night--also rusty, and shopping the next day. Church again Sunday, cavity filled for Rian & racquetball on Monday, followed by a movie then dinner, and saying goodbye to my parents. Kelsie had a positive report on Tuesday from her neuro, though we aren't off medicine and seizures are still present, she was pleased with K's progress, and said there were FEWER seizures. Thank God. Golfed again Wednesday night with better results and Lace helped her friend set up her classroom for school. Thursday was more cavities and Friday I golfed with my brother in law and then we had our farewell dinner with Leasea's sister and family. I said goodbye to Baylie that night for a week, and Saturday after breakfast with the Carlton family, I said goodbye to the other three as they got on the plane, England bound. I saw a movie and tried to take it easy that night, I was off to Tunica at 5 am on Sunday...
...Pre-dawn, Matt and I are picking up Tate and Eastbound. Had to be there in time for a tourney, which I finished one off the money in, and then had a ridiculous, Paula Dean buffet. Bad idea, as we all over-ate. Good idea because it was so dang good. Took some seriously rough beats at the poker table that night and I was down in a hole to start day 2, but golf was coming. Monday we played 27 holes of golf, I shot 48 on the front, 48 on the back, and 48 on the bonus 9. Nothing brilliant, but I beat Matt, and I guess you could say I showed consistency. A quick hustle to the hotel for three showers and back off for another tournament which I made final table, but no cash, and Matt chopped the pot for a win--congrats Matt! I hit big again and again on 3 card and was out of my hole and up a bit after day 2. Came back on Tuesday, relaxed, got laundry started and finished on Wednesday between errands. Was pretty well squared away and ready for my flight to Chicago on Thursday to met my cousin Gary and his roommate Daryl for some fun and a ballgame. Thursday was the fun, bouncing around downtown and having Gino's East pizza, before heading back to condo to sleep and get ready for the ballgame Friday. Hit some places in Wrigleyville before the game, which the Cubs came from behind to lead before showing off their patented come-from-ahead-loss skills. Awesome. Couple more places to show D and then I was off to the airport. Got back to AR at midnight, got home, showered, slept, woke, finished packing and was loaded up for the airport 10 hours later. Ugh. 16+6 hours later I was in Mt Bures hugging all my girls.
So, what does all that do? It leads me to this. I love home, I miss home, but it was nice to come back here, because this is where my family is. As fun as that last week was, I had to stay that busy so I wouldn't be lonely. There are many issues when you are living two places. You are always town between where you are and where you aren't. Who you're with and who isn't around. What things were like, and how they are. That isn't a bad thing, and I hope I am learning how to cope better. I have met some great people here who are becoming friends I hope to have for many years. I have wonderful, tolerant, helpful friends back home, that while missing them makes it hard to be here, there prayers and support and help, makes it possible to be here. I think it is probably like comparing girlfriends; better left undone, just look to each new experience with a fresh and positive understanding. And I am trying.

random musings on a radio show line

I heard it said the other day, "kids don't understand class systems." I think, unfortunately, that this is very outdated thinking. They may not understand all the principles of socio-economics, but they get the basics. And they definitely know what they are and where they fit in. Or at least where they want to and don't. Or vice-versa. And sadly,  they realize it now more than ever.
Even when I was a kid, we had them and us. Generations before had it, generations to come will have it. For me as a kid in KY, it was BMX vs. 10 speed. We all rode bikes everywhere, and you were one or the other. Most of us NCO kids, with stay at home Moms, had BMX style, single speed bikes. Some Officers kids who would come to our housing area, or kids whose Mom's worked, got the upgraded 10 speed deal. Them, us. We told ourselves, that although ours were PX specials, basic bikes, they were cooler, because we could do tricks and such. Also, they could be dumped into feilds pretty easily while the 10 speed kids were looking for hard enough ground to set their kick stands.
In Germany it became athletes vs non-athletes for me. I was, others weren't. Their wasn't a whole lot of crossover. It had nothing as such to do with economics, but if you were, you became popular, if you weren't, you were background. It wasn't right, and I recall having non-athletic friends, but, truth be told, they were mostly teammates.
Then came TX. I never knew until we moved off base, to TX, that we were "poor." Or so I was told. Granted, I had a stay at home mom and  an NCO father who made less serving his country than the ambulance chasers who walked into his ERs scrounging, but I always had what I needed. And wanted for that matter. I honestly can't recall wanting something as a kid and being told no. I know I was though. So whatever it was, my parents were right, it wasn't all that important. And I think, on average, that I "wanted" less than most kids. Some G.I. Joes, some Transformers, baseball cards, and sports equipment. All supplied, done. But in TX, we were in the real world, not on post. So there was a greater diversity in household income levels. And I was, all of a sudden, "poor." Didn't stop me from having a good time. I was still an athlete. Still had lots of friends, friends I maintain to this day. I wouldn't say I was the most popular by far, but I got by. Still made good grades--which I managed to make a moot point by stupid collegiate behavior--and still got scholarship offers.
Along came college ,and I was just a number. No one outside my circle cared enough to make fun of me, pick on me, or anything else. It was a very segregated lifestyle. As someone who grew up interacting with all races on the playing fields and courts, it became extremly apparent to me that college was divided. I was no longer an athlete. As mentioned above, I was stupid enough to waste my intelligence at the start of school. I was a fraternity guy, I was a GDI (blank, blank, Independant.) That was more because I couldn't afford it than anything else. Yet again, I made friends. Had Megan and Leasea not come along, Tim and I may still be sitting on the couch playing NCAA and Tiger Woods, drinking beer. (Dang you ladies!) My friends spanned all sorts of backgrounds, and lifestyles. And shockingly, it broadened my horizons. Go figure.
I think not being one thing really helped me be a lot more. By no longer fitting into a box, I created a circle. A circle of friends and loved ones that I can rely on and go to. Lean on and cry to. Hang out with and fight and make up. While I may not keep up as well as I should sometimes, I can pick right up where I left off with most of them, and I know I have plenty I could go to if I really needed something. And still, they range all different types, lifestyles, backgrounds, income levels, etc. I don't really have a point I guess. Just musings. Ramblings on a line mentioned on a radio show.
I write this as a fortunate one. Someone who is blessed with a wonderful family and friends, a wife with a great job that provides for us and so much more. Someone who has been more places and seen more things than I ever thought I would get to. Who gets to take vacations. Who owns a home, has insurance. Whose daughter has survived serious trauma. Food in my belly. Who is able to contribute to causes. Go to church where, when, and if I want to. Yep. I am a lucky one.

Its nice

It sure is nice to feel welcome. Everyone likes to feel welcome, right? It is a great feeling to walk into someplace and see a familiar face or even just a smiling one sometimes. I can't think of anybody who would LIKE to be shunned and excluded. Hmmm...
I got asked many things about being here while I was back visiting over the holidays, but one question that was most asked was, "are the people nice?" My standard response was, "well, sure, but its a different kind of nice." And then I would go into how, where and how I was raised, if someone new moved into the neighborhood, you went and knocked on the door, offered your name and a handshake--at the VERY least--and likely a cassserole or cookies. People are more reserved here, they are friendly, polite, but mostly quiet and keeping to themselves. I appreciate that, and it might be different if we lived closer to the city. While it is strange, I am adapting.
I am adapting, mainly, because of the wonderful people at our family oriented village pub. Not only have the owners, landlords, and staff welcomed me and the family, the regulars have as well. We are to the point where we now get invited for things. One guy has invited me to learn squash, one to take me to a WWII museum, and the golf society opened up to me right away.
Most of all though, the landlord, Mitch and his partner, Sarah have made me feel most at home. I, the new, American guy, have been invited to Mitch's 30th birthday on Saturday! I think that is pretty great. One of those, once in a lifetime shindigs, and they invited me. I am very excited to go and very humbled they invited me. Not that I should have expected it, but Mitch lets me know if they have something new, or something going on--like a random wine tasting to help pick new wines for the pub; they got us a card at Christmas, and even one at Thanksgiving, trying to show their hospitality. Really sweet.
They are wonderful ambassadors for the community as well, volunteering, raising money for causes, handling village functions, and being a information point for all things in the region. They are well liked, well respected, and on top of it all they run a first rate pub. Top quality food, Ales, and conversation.
They are really a credit to England, this region, and our generation. Thank you Mitch and Sarah for your friendship this first stretch of our stay here. I, for one, would have been lost without you guys!

2nd half of Christmas trip

Alright, took me some time, but with limited computer access, and time being shortened to 24 hours in a day--when did this happen?-I think I am doing well to get it done first day back in the UK. And if you don't, tough. ;-)

So the day after Christmas, we went shopping. Big let down as far as deals go, but I didn't need anything other than the two sweaters I got, so it was fine. Found a good new pizza joint in SA, but they had pretty bad service. Typical SA. No worries, we were headed back over to Eric and Nina's that evening for more merriment.

Before going that direction, I detoured to meet up with Karla, who is in the wedding planning process. It was nice to see her, and I hope I was able to help her by being a sounding baord/venting plate. Hope things are going smoother K! On to Eric and Nina's...got into a movie discussion, so I felt lost not knowing squat about movies. Wait, thats's wrong. I know a little something. Basically just snacked, sipped, and listed favorite all time movies in different genres. Good times.

Sunday came, and I was realy looking forward to a full day and I was on the last third of my trip. Another one of those happy/sad moments I despise. Clear cut emotions are what I need! Started the day off at River City Community Church (http://www.reallife.org/) Try to go here when I am in SA, and since half of the church is the Powers Family, I feel comfortable. Big treat this time as Jason was preaching. Little info here. Jason is Aaron's older brother, and Aaron and I have been best friends for a long time. We looked up to Jason since he was older and a baseball stud, and he was mean to us since he was older and a baseball stud. Think Bill Paxton, Weird Science, just not so whiny. Got it? Well now he is the associate pastor, and wow! I really enjoyed his message. It kinda reminded me, in a way, of the conversations we had with him earlier in life, except about God. It felt like he was just talking with me, and it was 100% Jason. Loved it man. Oh and he gave me some advice, more on that later.

After church, lunch plans got cancelled due to sickness (sorry Jessica!) so it meant on to Aunt Jammer's for the day/night. FYI, Jennifer B. is Aunt Jammer, so named by Rian before she could pronounce Jennifer. Easy to see that was going to stick. Since we hadmore time and no plans, we headed to her mom's house (Madre) for a nice visit before going to Best Buy where the girls, not me, the girls bought Jenn a matching case for her camera. From there to El Chapparal for some tasty Mexican food; another type that is sorely lacking over here. Then a quick beverage stop at HEB before going back to her place to watch football and then The Holiday. How appropriate. I crashed there for the night, and woke up for some Mythbusters and coffee. All in all, as expected, a great, relaxing time with Jenn. I love you, hon!

Now I had golf ahead. So I stopped by Mom and Dad's to change and Skype the girls before heading out to face my destruction. PLaying with Jeff's old clubs, unfamiliar course, and I hadn't beaten Jeff before. Oh well, at least it was golf. But wait! What's this? I hit 12 fairways! I putted decent. I chipped well. We won't talk about the approaches. I won. Wait, let me try that again. I WON! Ok, that feels better. Sorry Jeff, I know you are better, so I have to rub it in. Jeff dropped me off so I could shower and meet back up for dinner with him and his lovely wife, Jennifer. Dinner, then a tour of the new(ish) office, and back to their place for more chatting. A long day, but a memorable one. I enjoyed it, and can't wait to do it again, brother. Love you guys

I needed a rest, but there was one more box to tick before leaving. The Conways. We had a lunch date, at Carino's of all places. Imagine Tim and I at a Carino's? P'shaw. Anyhow, it took Avery a little while to warm up to Uncle Chris, but after the bread started flowing, she was fine. What a cutie. It was a really nice, laid back visit. I was glad we made it work, especially since I missed Tim's 30th, and will miss Little Mr Conway's birth in March/April. Boo me! Sucks living only through pictures, but it'll have to do for now. Love you all, Conway Fam!

Whew. A rest. Back to spend the last evening in SA with the parents relaxing. But there was thing I had to do still. That bit of advice Jason had given me? He likes Fatty's Burgers better that Chris Madrid's. Wow. I had to find out fo rmyself, and there was no disappointment whatsoever. Super delicious grub. I will say however, that they are two distinctly different burger styles, so I will refrain from comparing them. Too hard to compare a griddle burger to a grilled burger, just has to do with what I'm in the mood for.

Leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back...delayed...again. Nothing bad, but of course I was. Poker that night after getting back to SS, and not as lucky as the first night back, cuz I lost, but ended up in the black for the trip, so good times. NYE had me playing Wii across the street at Matt's, and feeling old, but content. Sure wasn't just sitting around in 1999. Lucky to have survived those times. And to think, in 10 years, I'll have a kid in college. Shudder.

Day before I left, and I hung out with Candice, Rick and the kids, and Dennis and Glenda came over for dinner. Was good to be able to relax before I had to go, and the kids are old enough now where they remembered me without too much prodding. Really enjoyed my day, guys, thanks again, love you!

So, here I am, Monday morning, UK time. Took us a long time to get back here with delays arriving/leaving Chicago, and delays getting into Heathrow. Christmas was nice, and we had a nice dinner. Rian was the most excited to see me she has ever been, but that wore off pretty quickly. Ah well. Lace still isn't well, so she is off to the doctor today, and Baylie is still in bed at 8:30. I woke up at 4:30 with Kels, and now I have a long day of re-adjustment ahead of me.

Thanks a million once again to all those who helped make my Holidays so wonderful despite being apart from my family. I wish I could have seen more of you, or spent more time together, but again, someone shortened the hours in a day. Guess that is life. Wouldn't change it for the world.

All my love
C