"Going Hunting" was completed in January 2009

When I was reviewing over my bucket list the other day I quickly realized that the items completed thus far had always been done with others.

In light of this, I thought I'd publish (most) of my list as I'd love for partners on any of these adventures.  After all, we were created by God for community and not as islands.

Have you made your "bucket list"? If so, post a comment with some of your items or blog about it.

Go to a Nascar Race
Go hang-gliding
Go up in a hot-air balloon
Fly in a small aircraft over Furman and Conyers to photograph the places I love.
Be a contestant on the Price is Right
Visit all of Southern Living's "204 Food Finds" Live in a rural area for a time
Foreign mission work for at least a year
Swim half a mile
Run a 10k in preparation for a half marathon
Play the Harbour Town Golf Links (learn how to play golf first)
Catch a fish on the flyline
Learn how to sail a small boat
Learn to speak basic Spanish
Learn to drive a stick shift proficiently
Learn my family’s genealogy as well as my Nana knows it
Become a morning person
Visit McDonalds #1 in Des Plaines, Illinois
Sell 5 items on eBay and personally deliver them to the buyers
Drive a hitchhiker to whatever destination he desires
Road trip with friends across the USA
Take a train across Canada
Visit New York (Just found out Amtrak travels from Durham to NYC for a great price)
Visit Time Square on New Year's Eve with a significant other
Visit the Grand Canyon
Visit Yellowstone
Photograph the Aurora Borealis in Alaska
Niagara falls
Visit Brazil
See the pyramids of Giza
Tour the Holy Land
Visit the Dominican Republic to visit Ruben, the child I sponsor through Compassion.
Photograph Mont Saint-Michel in France

When I was little, we would always pull over to the right side of the interstate, run across, and place a ribbon around the huge trunk of this tree. Usually it was purple, but sometimes it was gold. If there was already a ribbon around the trunk, placed by someone else, we would often tie another. I knew what this ritual signaled. We were getting close to Furman. These trips often occurred in the fall as I attended homecoming with my Mom, Nana, Papa, Aunt, and Uncle. On campus each year, I remember playing in the bright leaves and climbing up the spiral staircase in the belltower until the gate near the top stopped me.

Years later, I had to choose where to attend college. I did overnight visits, tours, and mulled over the advantages of each school I was considering. A few days before the May 1 deadline I decided on Furman. I didn't go there because I was a legacy (although I love tradition) and I hadn't fallen in love with the school on my campus tour like many of my friends. A combination of factors led me there, and the thought of attending another school never crossed my mind throughout my four years.

On my freshman hall there were many quality guys whom I became friends with quickly. We made the trek across campus to our sister hall countless times as they became our good friends. I joined KA, the fraternity of my Papa, and soon realized what bonds of true friendship could look like. I kept myself busy with clubs, studying, social functions, and relationships with friends. I remember often thinking back to high school and realizing that college was better than I ever envisioned.

I became part of a group of friends who truly cared for each other. We cooked for each other, roasted each other, spoke truth to each other, and displayed love in the midst of difficult times to each other. It is only now, a few months after graduation, that reality is setting in. This isn't just another summer, and we won't all see each other again at a Registration Night party. I often think of all the times spent with this group, the lessons we learned together, and the friendships that were forged. I am thankful. Effort is required to maintain friendships, and while this challenge awaits so does the reward of seeing how God will use each of us in the world. The majority of the crew is below:

As I drove home southbound after graduation I saw the stately tree in my mirror. I later asked my Nana how the ribbon tradition began, and she told me that they first tied ribbons around the tree during the 1970s as they took my mother to school. For her, the tree always stood as a reminder that they were getting close to Furman. After asking around at school, no one seemed to know about the tree. Perhaps after reading this others will join the tradition. Regardless, as I grow older and make the journey back to campus from a new home I will tie a ribbon around the tree with my family, point it out to others, and be reminded of the experiences and relationships that I had at Furman.

The picture to the right is at 5:30AM or so and the line had already wrapped around the building. This is typical, and it sure beats the line at Best Buy which usually starts about 5:30PM on Thanksgiving day.

It is not too exciting to shop alone, so for the past few years some of my best friends have joined me and we always have fun waiting in line together, making loud references to cheap laptops that don't exist, talking with others to see what they're buying, and enjoying the competitive atmosphere that ensues. We always conclude our day by heading over to Mamie's Kitchen.

You're probably wondering what items lead me to be in line so early. This year it was nothing too exciting just some blank dvds, thumb drives, dvds, etc. I also bought my first pair of cowboy-type boots. I really could have bought these items anytime, but spending these moments with my friends and experiencing an American phenomenon makes it worth the early morning alarm.

I have written a few papers on Salem while at Furman. Here is a creative writing paper I wrote freshman year. If you would like the full bibliography please email me.

The bell clangs loudly as it swings back and forth. Screen doors slam shut as everyone walks toward the music and finds a seat inside the tabernacle. “Hallelujah, Thine the Glory, Hallelujah Amen” is sung without a hymnal, and the offering plate is passed around for the second time that day. A little boy sprinkles sawdust on his feet and then rubs his toes together letting the sawdust pass through and return to the ground. With a sheet of paper he found next to him, the boy fans the sweat dripping down his brow throughout the service. The preacher prays, “We thank you for the fact that there are bicycles lying on the ground all around this tabernacle, symbols of young people, of kids, who are coming to love this place, and consequently to love you” (Nearly 180 Years Old). It is early August, and Camp Meeting has begun.

The scene above is unique in today’s culture. To an outsider it seems unusual, but to those whose families have been going for decades, it is another sacred tradition. In today’s world of hustle and bustle, Americans all over the country step away from society for one week to enjoy this time. Unique to America, the concept of Camp Meeting started in the early 1800s, revolving around the First and Second Great Awakenings. Thousands upon thousands of people traveled from all around, where they crashed upon the camp grounds like waves (Shore 2).

Thirty minutes east of Atlanta in Newton County, one of the oldest running Camp Meetings continues as it has for the past 175 years. Taking a glimpse into a week there helps one to understand why and how this tradition has continued until today. Just like in 1898, laptops, televisions, and Playstations are nowhere to be found. No pool floats or sand buckets were loaded into cars for the journey, even though for many families this is their only summer vacation. They arrive and gather with many friends and relatives for the first time since last Camp Meeting. In many tents, four generations of people from the same family are united once again. Those who have passed away during the year are mourned for, and babies’ new lives are celebrated.

Bunk beds fill rooms where small children sleep the humid summer nights away while their parents and other family members pack into the other rooms. Each family stays in a unit referred to as a tent, an allusion to the days of old, before the wooden structures were built (Bruce 71). The tents aren’t just sleeping quarters; the history and stories behind each unique one add to the sense of community and ritual (Kendell-Taylor 20). Giggles and talking can be heard throughout these tents because no ceilings exist, only tin roofs that crackle in the sun and fade to rust in the rain. Six feet over, an even larger family sleeps, providing another link in the horseshoe of tents which surround the tabernacle.

At 7:30 in the morning the tabernacle slowly fills. Old and young alike try to stay awake during the short devotional. This start to the day is the same as it has been for hundreds of years, being seen as an indispensable preliminary by all who have attended (Johnson, 122-144). Families retreat for buttered biscuits, and then everyone splits into classes to learn age-appropriate Bible lessons before the 11:00 service. Joyous singing can be heard as the latecomers slip in the back of the tabernacle. Soon after, the clinking of change can be heard as coins drop into the tin offering plates. “Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God,” the preacher remarks midway through his sermon. The fan above slowly provides relief, for his perspiration has plastered his shirt to his chest. He asks the crowd whether anyone wants to come to the alter, but no one accepts the offer that day. People quickly file out to go and savor the pimento cheese sandwiches and sweet tea.

Instead of taking afternoon naps, people sit on their porches and the campground comes alive with chatter. On one porch, an eighty year old man tells his grandson’s friend to be careful with girls when he goes off to college, “A girl will you leave you high and dry, but God will always be there.” Filing through old index cards with scribbles of family recipes, a lady tries to teach some little girls how to cook. One man, who goes by Bubba, describes this aspect of Camp Meeting like this, “We get too busy in the world. We need to sit down on a porch and swing for a while” (Hendrickson). He and others share updates on what they have done throughout the year, advice on raising kids, and reflections on the sermons from the week. Children swing on the playground under the sweltering sun, sharing embellished stories about their schoolmates, memories of Camp Meetings past, and questions about life. At 4:00 the bell rings again, and all the men and children slowly make a pilgrimage to the softball field.

The younger kids change into swimming suits and cross the busy road onto an old concrete path under a canopy of pecan trees. At the end of the path they find a piece of history accidentally trapped in urban sprawl. They stick their heads under an old pipe and chilling natural spring water rushes over their heads. A feeling of shock and refreshment overcomes them, the same sensation people who were baptized there hundreds of years before received. While they play, a man by the name of Casey tells the story that if a couple drinks from the spring together, they’ll get married and that it has been tested time and time again (Thorpe). The kids promise that it’ll never happen to them as so many have before.

Family, fellowship, food, and friends are simply not enough to keep an institution like this one going for 175 years. Swinging on the porch, while fireflies light up the night, Bubba passes on wisdom as it was given to him so many years before. He tells some young boys, “Camp Meeting provides a time and place for everyone to stop and meet with the maker of life. We need Camp Meeting to remind us of who we are and who we are meant to be” (Hendrickson). One of them asks, “That’s why people keep returning every year isn’t it?” Bubba simply nods his head and realizes the boys are starting to understand.

As the sun goes down behind the tabernacle, the tenters gather for the last service of the day. The suburbanites cruise by and honk their horns. Some are bewildered since for the first time all year, the grounds are vibrant with life and light.

Front and center, the scene is the same as it has been for hundreds of years. The messages that are delivered from behind the old oak pulpit cannot be dodged, even by the teenagers who sit on the last row, eager to slip out any chance given. An altar call is given this night and one college boy feels the calling of God on his life to become a minister. A new passion wells up in him and the cycle continues. He will one day stand behind the same old oak pulpit while his family sits in the pews. His children will play in the spring and one day grow to hear a similar message that changes them.

UPDATE: Possibly even better than the above link
Stuff Educated Black People Like

My best friend from home, who is an educated black person, confirmed that all of these were indeed accurate. Funny enough, number 14 on Stuff White People Like is "Having Black Friends".