tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70549584389838709112024-03-14T06:07:34.561-07:00The GroveTyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-6265476904755902842011-04-19T17:53:00.000-07:002011-04-19T17:53:06.117-07:00What Is Truth?Truth is relative, right? There is no concrete truth, because if there was, wouldn't we believe it and fight? If truth was rock, there would be no debates, disagreements, or public hate. The fact is, people dont see the truth that's right in front of their face. You tell her she's beautiful with every breath and in the mirror all she sees is the pretty girl on her left. I complain and stand in the rain in vain due to the coming train that takes me away to places less mundane. The grass is greener on the other side, but green can't be seen by the blind. You hide and reside in the proverbial night with no dawn or no light and no will to fight. So wake up and see me, your living tree, the branches of my love infinity. The truth is that your eyes are closed, your mind is shut, heart unexposed. The truth will show your every flaw as you attempt to claw a way out. The truth can't hide or be denied forever or stay inside, by its nature it is pure.Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-77115541569612329112011-03-23T15:14:00.000-07:002011-03-23T15:14:09.192-07:00Knowledge?As kids, we talk about angels as if they are animals or cars, being completely tangible and real. There is so much that children don't understand, but somehow certain things seem to real and concrete to them. We get older and we gain knowledge, but lose understanding. We know that scientifically, angels can't be in a room without us seeing them, and how could we possibly have "guardian angels" if people get killed all the time and we get hurt so much? To a child, this concept isn't troublesome. God is the creator of the universe and angels are there to watch over us here on the earth. To a child, heaven isn't a complicated or supernatural concept either. When people die, they go to heaven or hell if they've been bad or if they've been good, and it is as simple as that to a child. Then, we go to school and learn about all of the reasons why heaven, angels, demons, God, and everything that is "supernatural" is really just a figment of our imaginations. Everyone buys into this thinking so easily, because how can we really ever know that the experience we have/had with God is not just our emotional self acting up? It's an interesting thought that even though many of us know for a fact that we have encountered the natural and perfect love of God, one bit of faulty scientific "evidence" that seems to contradict our beliefs completely rocks our universe to the verge of destroying our faith all together. In Matthew 18:3, Jesus says, "If you do not become like children, surely you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." Growing up, I thought this verse was frustrating, because children are so stupid, so immature, ignorant, temperamental, and so on. However, recently after thinking about what the core meaning of what childlike really is, I've realized that to be childlike means to be faithful. A child walks onto a playground with a dozen other kids of different races, ages, beliefs, and family backgrounds. By the time that child leaves the playground, he is friends with almost every kid he/she comes in contact with. To him/her, there is no racial difference, religious divide, theological debate, fashion style, etc. King Solomon says that "blessed is the man who finds wisdom and understanding". This sounds so much like "blessed is the man who learns the most theology and knows the most about humanity," but I think history has shown that the most intelligent people are not the most blessed. Wealthy, powerful, famous: yes but not always blessed. Wisdom and understanding is so different from knowledge as we think of it. Scientists have so much knowledge, but so often lack understanding. Children understand everything perfectly. I believe there is a reason that it says in the bible that in the end times, the YOUNG men will have dreams and visions. An aging man might refuse to believe the clear dreams and visions given to him. I think this is why it is so important to have a strong faith as a young man, because reason, science, opposing agendas, and the false gospels of self-satisfaction scream louder than the simple truth of THE Gospel. A four year old boy reported sitting in the lap of Jesus during an appendectomy that he nearly died during. He reported going to heaven for three minutes and seeing the Lord and Jesus on his right hand. Several months after his surgery, he went to a funeral and was furious when nobody would answer his question. "Did this man know Jesus?! Did he dad?! He HAD to! If he didn't then He can't go be with God and Jesus!" The adults silenced him and explained to him that its inappropriate to ask that at a funeral. The boy was incredibly confused as it seemed like the MOST important thing to ask at a funeral. His understanding of the gospel was childlike. WE NEED TO KNOW JESUS SO THAT WE CAN SPEND ETERNITY WITH THE LORD! There is no science to prove or disprove God's existence, but God cannot be ignored in the hearts of ALL humanity. No non-existent being could cause wars to be fought, nations to separate, martyrs to be made, and millions to follow Him and lay down a life of comfort and steady income to serve Him. A childlike faith means to not follow blindly, but to have a loyal gaze set upon the Lord that is blind to differences on the earth. We are all part of the human race, which is the only race. God desires for Muslims, Jews, Christians, Hindus, and everyone else to all pick up their crosses and follow Him. This concept isn't radical, it's childlike. We can't let knowledge hinder our wisdom and understanding. Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-87981011648003303792010-12-26T01:15:00.001-08:002010-12-26T01:15:33.288-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_nul07Lc_oAePmGf-Qrr3z5BKBz4ES3c7VCHu7XtCWqGDjooIdoOUIgEyC9yrOZv8a4g2d0chUfjuHAhy2qNuGcmjaPY1a1MNRUJY7qJfwdYTXNvGFQQ8gCD-EFemNfa_GWop2v_iss/s1600/DSC_0194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_nul07Lc_oAePmGf-Qrr3z5BKBz4ES3c7VCHu7XtCWqGDjooIdoOUIgEyC9yrOZv8a4g2d0chUfjuHAhy2qNuGcmjaPY1a1MNRUJY7qJfwdYTXNvGFQQ8gCD-EFemNfa_GWop2v_iss/s320/DSC_0194.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-7232999465182501972010-12-01T16:07:00.003-08:002010-12-01T16:07:22.988-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNm8aDbJZHtsSkslzDs-oJib6uDybBb7vzXW6oub_EAtUIlMw8ucW7788YPTqsHr-pclQGfWHX6UPjUtLP8WPWQPqT-6FRXoWbz3Ii015Lvrp-suk4Aa5rfyo5yCD6j2yShEIuR0q0gac/s1600/DSC_0085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNm8aDbJZHtsSkslzDs-oJib6uDybBb7vzXW6oub_EAtUIlMw8ucW7788YPTqsHr-pclQGfWHX6UPjUtLP8WPWQPqT-6FRXoWbz3Ii015Lvrp-suk4Aa5rfyo5yCD6j2yShEIuR0q0gac/s320/DSC_0085.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-21533201067242290412010-11-29T11:57:00.001-08:002010-11-29T11:57:31.663-08:00Dabbling in photography<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57eCSyox8zqw7mS3ua-GrvWMa8neer4J81rPkJeUS03J7tQbvVkD8_d-5FG6WxLceqRb5F8BSuvDAfFkGhdGMH3I_LQ2_fa3mVHWOSao0tURdwszfZRrQDv4xPd68OPp_UVOeHtXfkAs/s1600/DSC_0062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57eCSyox8zqw7mS3ua-GrvWMa8neer4J81rPkJeUS03J7tQbvVkD8_d-5FG6WxLceqRb5F8BSuvDAfFkGhdGMH3I_LQ2_fa3mVHWOSao0tURdwszfZRrQDv4xPd68OPp_UVOeHtXfkAs/s320/DSC_0062.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndEAQScxws9SxveJk_cI1G35YyBRz_VjRWTiGPduDORhKxcstqmS0oMm8O-JW4DHzVbojVLaR5HyymZJhxsjUXSpHERBHE1Ro6Ky0tgGMApIgFKlW-1Ufi_gMuyRJLBeNktxg8It-Z10/s1600/DSC_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndEAQScxws9SxveJk_cI1G35YyBRz_VjRWTiGPduDORhKxcstqmS0oMm8O-JW4DHzVbojVLaR5HyymZJhxsjUXSpHERBHE1Ro6Ky0tgGMApIgFKlW-1Ufi_gMuyRJLBeNktxg8It-Z10/s320/DSC_0044.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2-NpM38kk_KPh-xiepTQmrXEPW46EyGwCR9YttGbqdU1HzWCeg4eIPyTLH_kz3QzLFehV8a4ZJmn5ZBkGa2D_ZrwbA4x-zEyPd6VB5paD5MwFTM8Y9lBVT8VIhkKLWLB7F4qy4quQ_o/s1600/DSC_0057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2-NpM38kk_KPh-xiepTQmrXEPW46EyGwCR9YttGbqdU1HzWCeg4eIPyTLH_kz3QzLFehV8a4ZJmn5ZBkGa2D_ZrwbA4x-zEyPd6VB5paD5MwFTM8Y9lBVT8VIhkKLWLB7F4qy4quQ_o/s320/DSC_0057.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-69048739418019544982010-11-20T23:36:00.000-08:002010-11-20T23:36:26.042-08:00Martin "The Martian Without The A"There are so many opportunities to bless people, but when do you ever see a person bless a stranger? So many times in our world, we pass a lost soul or a person just wanting to be talked to. You don't have to see someone hold a cardboard sign in fingerless gloves to know when someone is lonely. However, who is really the lonely one? Does a man lost in his career and agenda who goes to bed at night panicked about tomorrow really live the good life or does a man who has nothing and can barely find the money to eat really appreciate life? A man dressed in expensive black business clothes sits down to talk to a friend and discusses politics, where their kids are going to college, the economy, the latest news coverage, the ridiculous amount of money spent on a certain government structure, and so on. A middle-aged homeless man sits next to me on the bench outside Starbucks and leans over to me and says, "You guys smoke?" "No, we don't." "Well That's good, it's bad for your health." My friend and I were sitting on the bench next to him with a sign that read, "Take some free change for some coffee!" We had a can full of quarters and nickels sitting there for people to take with no expectations of reciprocity but to simply bless someone. Several people driving very expensive cars walked by us without even glancing at the sign, because they most likely assumed we were begging for money. We were dressed in casual clothes sitting outside in the cold. Not a single person looked at our sign up to this point, discouraging me quite a bit. I looked to my left to see three homeless men talking about life. "So, how's your dog, man?" "He's doing great, he is healthy and happy." "That's great to hear, how are you?" "I'm doing great, just sat in a warm restaurant for quite a while and I'm good to go for the night." "Cool man". This conversation went on and on. Several minutes later, the older gentleman acknowledged me and I looked to him. He asked, "so what are you two young guys doing sitting out here if you don't smoke?" My friend replied, "We're just giving out free change to people for coffee to help them out." The eccentric homeless man began to talk about how there must be hidden cameras somewhere and that there was a reason as to why we were doing what we were doing. In his eyes, we are two spoiled rotten rich kids who would have no reason to selflessly give money to another person without receiving something in return. I changed the subject and asked him, "Where are you from, man?" "Right here," he replied. "I'm from right here on the streets... And I'm livin' comfortably for sure! I don't know how those guys back east do it! They must freeze to death!" I had to hold back my tears as I was experiencing this man who had a bag, a dog, and a bicycle explain to me how grateful he was to live in a place that is warm enough for him to stay alive at night. I'm concerned that my midterm grades aren't all 100% grades and this man is telling me he is thankful to be alive. The three men began to talk again about various things quietly on their bench away from everyone outside in the cold. Then, a man who was much older than the other two men walked up to us and read our sign with a little bit of trouble. "Take...some... free change for...coffee. So what you're sayin' is... You'd buy ME a cup of coffee for no charge?" "Yeah, of course, do you want one?" He had a look of disbelief on his face. "Uh, yeah, I'd love some coffee, man ha!" We walked into Starbucks with him and I walked up to the counter. "What can I get started for you?" the barista asked me. "What do you want, man?" "HA! Just some kind of coffee the moon ain't gonna shine through. Black coffee." I went to hand the woman my money and she motioned to me that it was no charge. Good deeds are contagious, period. The man was speechless for a few moments and then just began to laugh. "Man, you guys are nice guys. I haven't had a good cup of coffee in so long." "It's no problem man, glad to help out," I replied. We went back outside and sat back down on the bench. After talking for quite a long time, the man said, "Name's Martin, like Martian without the A, hahaha, what's your guys' names?" We introduced ourselves and continued talking about random things that he would bring up. He suddenly got serious. "You guys wanna know something? About 90% of the people in the world are good. The other 10% are bad and they need to stay where they are. You are good people. You guys are doing things that I've never seen." He paused for a few moments. "I want to say something very...good. I want to tell you something..." He paused again and got a very serious look on his weathered face. "Thank you." No words have felt so sincere in my ears in my entire life. A grateful heart came to me in the most unexpected way possible and Martin blessed me far more than my cup of coffee blessed him. My Iphone buzzed in my pocket as I realized that to talk to my loved ones, all I have to do is press a button. Martin has to walk for miles to see the people he cares about and the entire time he is walking, people think negatively of him just for appearing and living the way he does. There is no greater reward than to bless a person who is in need of love. Martin APPRECIATES me and my friend's tiny kind deed. He is thankful in this thanksgiving season... are you?Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-70726794788890070552010-09-16T00:56:00.000-07:002010-09-16T00:56:11.957-07:003. The Grove<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">3. The Grove<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">September ended and fall came around at its usual pace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t tell you how much I loved fall growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air was so crisp and the leaves were crunchy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke and I used to make huge piles of gold and red oak leaves and jump into them off the highest possible branches of the oak tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It always still hurt a little bit when we jumped from that high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suppose that’s why they don’t make pillows and mattresses out of leaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This fall was like every other fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>School was in full swing already, the house began to smell like fall spices from all the desserts and foods my mom and grandma would make, and the weather of course began to get dreary and bleak as it always did in Washington State.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I was walking to the school bus stop one morning but something was different about this particular morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It began to snow, but the snowflakes weren’t flakes at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were little pellet-like snowdrops that accumulated fast on the ground, because the whole ground was already covered in frost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I merely walked to the bus stop as a formality, knowing school would be cancelled anyways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One or two inches had accumulated in a matter of fifteen minutes as I slid around on the hill with my ratty old shoes that lacked rubber on the sole, making them perfect for doing so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a foreshadowing of that very cold winter to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Just as I had suspected, the bus never came and I started back down the slippery hill to my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked to my right, looking at the biggest house in the neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had a huge balcony that wrapped around the whole third story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The high balcony had a fantastic view of the snow-capped mountains that seemed nearly level with their house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Halloween was just a few days away and I got a very eerie feeling as I walked past that huge house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked at the banister and there was a rope hanging off of it, pulled tight by some object tied to the end of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t see what was attached to the rope so I hiked back up the hill to get a better view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After slipping and sliding around, I got to the base of their driveway only to see the most morbid and frightening thing I’d ever seen in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A man was hanging lifelessly from that rope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stared at him for what must have been a good minute and a half, completely bewildered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a hard time believing it was real at first, seeing as how Halloween was just around the corner and it didn’t seem too unusual to hang a dummy from your porch as a morbid way to celebrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never felt my heart pound that hard and I’ve never felt nauseous just from seeing something, until that morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The snow no longer felt cold on my face and the wind no longer made a whistling sound as it passed my ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything in the universe disappeared as I stared at that man’s limp body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, a old Buick pulled into the driveway and three people ran out of the car screaming and crying frantically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the moment when I realized I had witnessed this man’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began sobbing, because I realized who the man was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the father of the family that lived there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had seven children from ages 5 to 25.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a hard-working man who built that huge house with his bare hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know what suicide was at that tender age, so I assumed he was murdered and I was suddenly afraid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know what to feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt terrified that a dead man was dangling in my neighborhood, while I felt extreme grief that a father and husband and grandfather had left his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally went numb with confusion as I walked home slowly, unsure of what to do or think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran inside and told my mom what had happened and she didn’t know what to say, as usual.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“Mom… the Russian dad is dead.” I said unsurely<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“What?! What happened? Who told you?” she frantically asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“I saw him!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was hanging off the railing on a rope!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was around his neck and he was just hanging there!” I said in an even more frantic manner than she asked me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My mom didn’t say anything after that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She just wrapped her arms around me and cried for what seemed like an eternity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated it when my mom cried, because she was so strong that if she was crying, then that means something truly was wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so confused as to why he was dead, that my emotions went completely dead for the next few weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t laugh, didn’t want to talk about anything important, because I didn’t want that topic to ever come up again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was the time I visited the grove for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would close my eyes and picture myself in the most perfect place I could imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could practically feel the warm breeze on my face and through my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most importantly, it wasn’t snowing in the grove, because snow reminded me of that terrible day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing represented death in that place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The real world was ticking on as usual and I wanted to scream, because nobody seemed to care after the funeral that this family had lost their dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time kept moving and he was forgotten as another family moved into the house that he built from the bottom up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The home that he built for his family was bought by a rich couple that didn’t even have kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know where the Russian family moved to, but when I looked at that banister, I couldn’t help but think about the incredible irony of the situation before I even know what irony was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This man had spent his whole life building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He built his family, his reputation, and his own home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted answers, but people only gave me answers that they thought a baby would understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would say, “Some people just die” or “he must have been selfish” or “he didn’t love himself enough”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These answers didn’t satisfy me and I would continuously escape to the grove in my subconscious to create my own answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the image of him dangling there dead kept me awake at night, I would take that man to the grove with me and ask him why he did it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in my subconscious thoughts, he had a thick Russian accent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked him, “Sir, why did you kill yourself?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was frustrated that his response would always be a combination of all the things people would tell me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mind couldn’t imagine any answer better than the ones they had given me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would run my hands along the tops of the tall grass and just listen to the wind blow through it, rustling and flowing to create that beautiful white noise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bird would sing to me and then suddenly I would forget about my scarring experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would forget that the world is a sad place, because there was nobody there but my dog and I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The oak tree never complained that the wind was bending his branches and blowing off his leaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is where I would escape from the inexplicable, because as far as I was concerned, the real world didn’t make much sense sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-18634601776019726082010-09-08T22:38:00.000-07:002010-09-08T22:38:01.151-07:002. Stinky Friend<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">2. Stinky Friend<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I have other friends besides Luke, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just like him the best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some friends you just have to be friends with because you have to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend Lawrence was a nice guy and everything, but he was always coughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smelled like smoke too, because he lived in a hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t a cool hotel like when my family goes to Disneyland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more like the hotels that are along the freeway in not very nice areas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lobby smelled like smoke and the outside of the hotel was bright yellow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom always talked about how ugly the paint color was, but I always tried to stick up for the place a little bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t like when people talk about things in a bad way all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He always liked coming over to my house, but he smelled so bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom always says that I need to bring him over more often, because I think she feels sorry for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom is always too nice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swear, I could break her favorite coffee table and she would just say, “Oh, it’s okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just a table.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I wish that she would get mad just one time, just so I could see what it would be like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“Hey Ty, can I spend the night tonight?” Lawrence asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“Yeah, my mom said you can come over anytime dude.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“Cool, I will be over in a few hours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That day was seriously scary weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love storms, but this one was shaking the house and the lights were flickering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything was whistling outside and stuff was flying past the windows all afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lawrence knocked on the door of my big, white, three-story house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could hear him walking up the long gravel driveway, so there really wasn’t any reason for him to knock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom opened it and said, “Oh my gosh, Lawrence, you’re soaking wet!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tyler can give you some dry clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who dropped you off?” She looked out the window to try and see if a car was pulling out of the driveway. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“I walked here,” he said bluntly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“You walked…?” my mom inquired nervously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s ten miles, Lawrence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would have come and picked you up if you needed a ride!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“Thanks, but my mom said if I wanted to come over that I would have to walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She doesn’t want me to accept handouts from people.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I could tell my mom didn’t know what to say, because she sort of just stuttered out a few words, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">“Well…okay…I…Tyler, go grab some clothes for him,” my mom commanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Lawrence was a lot shorter than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had lightning-blonde hair just like me, but he was always really pale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even at age ten, he had a lot of acne and really greasy hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t like to hug him too much, because then I kind of started to smell like he did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always wondered if he spent a few days at my house, if he’d start to smell like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-44756784958390818502010-09-08T21:56:00.001-07:002010-09-08T21:56:41.132-07:001. Big Friend<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">1. Big Friend<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The funny thing about being a boy growing up in the country, is that no matter how many times I wash my feet, they always seem to be black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went downstairs to eat my eggs before school, but as soon as my mom saw my feet, she gave me that look she always gives me that basically means, “go upstairs and wash those feet so I’m not embarrassed to call you my son”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> sensitive about my bruises too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every single time I had a bruise on my leg or arm, she would say with a nag, “People are gonna think your parents beat you if they see those bruises Tyler!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a silly thing to think! I’m not even five feet tall yet, so if my pops was gonna bruise me, how could he reach my legs?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody ever gets bruises on their head either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom said I’m just growing into my feet and that’s why I trip all the time, but I trip a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if I trip more than normal guys, but I sure do fall on my wood stairs a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know my feet are growing really fast, because my mom takes me to buy new shoes all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like high-top All Stars the best, because I can run and they dry out fast when I get ‘em muddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The worst part about being a kid is definitely going to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My teacher is such a dummy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She thinks I’m so smart, because every time we play heads-up seven-up, I look at their shoes so I never lose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told my parents that I’m very smart for a 3<sup>rd</sup> grader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to talk a lot and tell people about my summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe even after Christmas, I will tell people about my winter too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wanna know how to be the coolest kid at school?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> to have a big friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a big friend named Luke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is twice my size!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom said we should just adopt him, but I like to sleep on the top and bottom bunk depending on the day, so I’d have to sleep on the top all the time if he moved in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best part about having a big friend is definitely the safety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get to say anything I want when Luke is around and nobody does anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth is, he would never hurt a fly, but nobody else knows that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One time, we were riding our bikes in the summer by the swamp and this big momma goose came out of the bushes and even though Luke was there, it hissed at us and chased us all the way down the road!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not even lying about that, either!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is afraid of girls, but I always try to make him say hi to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This one girl, Sam, is way cooler than the other girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At recess, she comes over to me when I’m standing in line for tether- ball and talks to me about stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I hold her hand, but I don’t like to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you start holding their hand, then they want to be your girlfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, everyone will make fun of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke always played on the playground with the other big guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know how he runs with his big shoes that he never ties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always double-knot my shoes on the porch before I get on the bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>School is fun sometimes though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like my PE teacher a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He makes us do stretches before class, but I love playing kick ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I wear my high-tops, I always kick home runs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all know I’m good too, because when I get up to kick, everyone scoots way back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it’s because I always kick my foot in the dirt and make a little hole with the toe of my shoe before I kick and that really intimidates them all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take it really seriously, because kids just think they can stand around when they’re playing games, but if you want to win, you have to try hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’m at school, I usually just hang out with Luke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We eat lunch together, sit next to each other in class, and wait for the bus together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we are allowed to talk in class, we just talk about our fort that we’re building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody else knows about it, not even my parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is this part of the forest by my house that has big trees that are perfect for building a fort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054958438983870911.post-77786167351804772912010-09-08T20:46:00.000-07:002010-09-08T20:46:16.511-07:00Prologue<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The Clearing<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Prologue:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The soft earth was warm beneath my bare feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could hear my favorite sound in world; the soft rustling of the wind through the grass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked slowly down the path on the warm summer day, running my hands along the tops of the grass that always stayed soft and green close to the creek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My favorite oak tree was faithfully waiting for me to lean up against it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cocker spaniel always walked right behind my feet loyally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was the king of everything in this meadow and it was a beautiful country indeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being nine years old, I didn’t rule with an iron fist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My subjects were the beautiful purple wildflowers, the birds that sang me songs in my court, my dog, and of course the trout that I was always eager to catch with my makeshift fishing pole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No other people ever came into my grove unless I invited them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No government had ownership of it, no army had ever conquered it, and most importantly, it was always summer in my grove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This place was heaven on earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no sadness, no dispute, no rules, and no disappointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a place that I could always escape to, no matter what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing and nobody could follow me here, except my dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reason he could come was because like most dogs, he couldn’t talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never told me what was wrong with the world, never complained, never gave me advice, he just simply followed my lead and listened intently to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never said much in the grove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There wasn’t much to say, because all the residents knew of its obvious beauty and peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no need to say, “My, what a beautiful day!” because everyday is a beautiful day in the grove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun never sets, and never goes behind a cloud to prevent the warmth from reaching my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment--> </span>Tyler Schilperoorthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335100524681909848noreply@blogger.com0