Andy Borgmann's Blog

I have a huge dilemma on my hand. This dilemma is so large, I think I am going to lose some sleep over it tonight. It just hit me tonight, when watching the Cubs game, that I haven't been to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field in like 10 years (I think it was Sophomore year of high school). So I hit the web to find out a day I could fly up to Chicago to visit my brother and go to a Cubs game. But then it hit me...this is the last time I will ever have the chance to watch at game at Yankee Stadium. Oh boy...I am not really sure how I am going to sleep tonight.

To be fair, I hate the Yankees. I don't care who they are playing, I will be rooting for the other team. But there was so much history at Yankee Stadium. Babe Ruth. Willy Mays. Lou Gerhig. Hosting 37 of the total 84 World Series. Not to mention all the non-Baseball history. Pelé played Soccer there. Boxers have boxed there. Heck, Popes have spoken there.

So here's what I found out. I can fly up to New York on the morning of July 27th at 6:00 am, go to the 1:05 pm game against the Orioles, and then fly back to Atlanta at 7:00 pm. Baseball Tickets: $20.00 Plane Tickets: $219.00 Watching a game in Yankee Stadium: priceless?!?

It is no secret that I have sort of bucket-list already for my life, and I am not waiting until retirement to complete it. Why? Who knows if I'll make it to retirement! I think the mindset is a healthy one.

I have bought a home.
I have received a college degree.
I have watched a NASCAR Race from the Pits.
I have snorkeled in the Great Barrier Reef.
I have visited 47 states (almost my goal of all 50).
I have been to the Dome of Rock.
I have been at Times Square for New Years.
I have slept the night on the street in Pasadena to watch the Rose Bowl Parade.
I have kissed a girlfriend on the Eiffel Tower.
I have chased the pigeons in San Marco Square in Venice.
I have floated on the Dead Sea.
I have worshiped on Waikiki Beach at an Easter Sunrise service.
I have planted gardens in poverty stricken regions of South Africa.
I have built homes in Mexico and gymnasiums for orphanages in Honduras.

But should watching a game at Yankee stadium be on the list and is it worth $239.00.

I have to admit. If it weren't for the fact that I just spent way too much money earlier this month due to the unexpected vacation surprise, I would be a lot more willing to do it.

I guess I'll just sleep on it and hopefully not die in my sleep. Anyone want to join me?

I should have known it was going to be like this. Friday, May 9: CJ and Andrea were scheduled to fly into Atlanta. The past week I had worked 67 hours to make sure everything was ready. Then on Friday, in the classic state of a "modern man," I cleaned the house, baked a cake, worked 8 hours, marinated chicken, paid bills, went grocery shopping, did laundry, and constructed a table. Why a table you asked? Because as I was moping my kitchen floor, I leaned on my old table and it split in half. So a run to Ikea and back at rush hour, and 30 minutes of drilling, bam a new table. That day was crazy. But little did I know it was just the beginning.

Here are some stats from the past 3 weeks:

• Miles Driven: 1,743
• Miles Flown: 1,543
• Money Spent Since May 9th: $1,954.64
• Money Spent Since May 16th (Asher's Arrival): $1,471.16
• Total Number of Different Beds Slept In: 7
• Total Number of Hospitals Visited: 3
• Total Time Spent in Hopsitals: 37 Hours

So what did I learn from all of this? Three things.

1.) Police in Charleston don't monitor parking meters, but they do make up stop signs for you to run through
It is true. I stopped paying the parking meters in Charleston, but this was only after I noticed that nobody else did either. Ironically, I was pulled over on by a bicycle cop (that's a first) for running a stop sign that wasn't there.

2.) Hospitals are disappointingly not like Scrubs
We all know I am a huge Scrubs fan. The whole time I was looking for a Crazy Janitor, or a Dr. Cox, or the Chief of Medicine. But nothing! There wasn't even a hot Dr. Reid anywhere. Although there were some hot nurses. This brings me to lesson #3.

3.) Married people are the absolute worst wingmen
Ok, so there was this hot girl who worked at the Ronald McDonald House where CJ and Andrea stayed. And so sure enough, Andrea goes to check out, and the girl asks about me. So she proceeds to tell her that I am a radio producer (good), my job is really flexible (good), and I am staying at the Motel 6. What the heck Andrea? Seriously!

No, he's such a good guy he rearranged his schedule to be here for three weeks. No, he's so great with our daughter Jadyn if he were just married we would consider making him the God-parent. No, he dropped $1,400 with out blinking an eye just to help us. No, he's travelled the world and been to tons of exotic locations. No, None of that? Just, he's staying at the Motel 6?

Heck, I would have even taken the Motel 6 reference if you would have prefaced it with 1.) he's slept on so many floors in third world countries doing humanitarian and missionary work, the Motel 6 is like the Ritz or 2.) he stays at the Motel 6 now because he is good with money and he doesn't care and it means his wife and children won't have to stay at the Motel 6 when they travel, or 3.) all the hotels were full and/or ridiculously expensive due to the Memorial Day weekend festivities.

Married people everywhere, take a lesson from this Scrubs clip.

Ok, maybe not the drunken weekend part, but you get the idea. That is what we call a good Wingman.

But all and all, it was a great extended trip. We had a great time and was worth every second and penny. Here's a look back, through pictures.

Today started like any other day at Hilton Head. Woke up. Put swim suits on. Went to the beach. Had a baby...

What?

Had a baby?

Ok, that never happened before.

It was about 5pm and we were getting ready to go to a nice dinner for our last night of vacation and Andrea started to have some pain. So she called her doctor in Indiana. Well her doctor told her everything was probably fine, but to swing by the hospital to confirm.

Two hours in the hospital and it is confirmed: she's having the baby tonight. A whole two months early!!!

I take a screaming Jadyn (who wants her mommy) home and put her to bed, we read Little Mermaid. And now I am scrounging around, trying to get everything ready for the show tomorrow night, a show I probably won't be at.

But it's weird, ya know. I always thought the first person I would drive to the hospital to have a baby would be my wife, or at least my own child.

But in a unique way I feel like it is partly my child. Just four days earlier, while standing on the beach, CJ turned to me and said, "you want to be the first to know what the name of the child is? Asher James. Andrea doesn't even know that I have picked it yet." Who knew, four days later, and two months early, he would be here.

Andrea is most likely going to be moved to Charleston, SC tomorrow, and her and Asher are going to have to be there for three weeks. I am trying to convince them to move her to Savannah instead because the access is so much easier for everybody up north (and me in Atlanta). But we'll see.

That's about it from here. I have done a lot of stuff with my 20 years at Hilton Head. But having a baby is definitely a first.

UPDATE
Asher's First Video

Are you sitting down? Of course you are...who uses a computer standing up? Good, you are sitting down! I say this only because I want you prepared for the craziest train of thought in the history of thinking.

I was listening to a news report the other day about how February 29th was the lightest day for gynecologists because nobody wanted to have a baby and have to deal with a kid having a birthday once every four years. Just mentioning gynecologists always draws my mind to an ex-girlfriend's father (he was an gynecologist, don't get any weird ideas). That particular ex-girlfriends got me thinking about law school. Law school got me thinking about my friend Lissa. Lissa got me thinking about 3rd year law school students - or "3L" as they attempt to fool us non-law people - in particular and what it would be like if I had gone to law school. Being back in school, with the slight reminder daylight savings time changes this weekend which means it is spring time got me thinking about what I missed most about being in school. The exciting conclusion to Andy's crazy train of thought is...drum roll please...spring break!

Ohh how I miss spring break. I was in school for 17 years. In those 17 years I never once failed to take a vacation. I never once spent it in Fort Wayne. It was always a time to get out into the world with people I loved and forget about school (even though you always had stuff due right afterwards).

I am going to take a moment and reminisce about some of the great trips. There was Antigua with the family. Hawaii with Hillary. Mexicali with APU. Siesta Key with Laura. Denver with Emily.

The closest I ever came to not taking a spring break was senior year of college. Nothing was planned except to stay on campus at APU and shoot down to the OC for beach days. As it turned out, APU went to the NAIA Championship game and I convinced APU to pay for me to go to get video footage. So my roommate Taylor and I hopped in a car and drove from LA to Kansas City overnight and just barerly made it for tip off (Lucky for Erin, the cheerleaders got to take a plane).

The best spring break by far was when CJ and I went to Hilton Head senior year of high school. We went completely on our own and spent three days there - it was cold. When we exhausted everything to do when it was cold, we went to the library, MapQuest-ed directions to Sannibel Island in Florida (9 hours away) and drove to see Andrea. That trip was not only great because we were 18 and on our own being adventurous and stupid, but it still allows me to take take credit for their marriage.

The irony of course was that in the early years of spring breaks, we usually would vacation to Atlanta. But it isn't about the location. It is about the variety. The adventure. The build-up. The friends. The relationships. What would this world be like if we continued spring break into adulthood? We all would decided in January to go somewhere, and for two months get pumped about the times shared.

For that, I am envious of my 3L friends who get one last chance before hitting the real world. Enjoy your last spring break my friends - vacation will never be the same again.

If I were to guess we are at 39,000 ft somewhere over the middle of Mississippi. Allen and I had a great time in Phoenix and it was quite productive. But on the lighter side, I have decided to post the "official video" of Allen & Andy's 2008 Al Peterson's Talk Media Conference below. Enjoy!

Why is this the official video? Is it because Allen loves Keira Knightley? No. It is because I love smoothies, which is strange since I don't like fruit. The problem is that there is no good smoothie place in the entire Atlanta metro area. If you even believe Planet Smoothie or Smoothie King are good smoothie places, I want to meet you in person and punch you in the mouth. Planet Smoothie is frozen yogurt through a straw, and Smoothie King is, and I am not exaggerating here, excrement in a cup.

Seriously, Jamba Juice. When are you coming to Atlanta and making all my dreams come true?

You can imagine my excitement when I saw right across from our resort in Phoenix a Jamba Juice. In the four days I was there, I went 7 times! And I got Allen and Phil hooked on it as well. And, if you watched the video above, I am Amy Poeler because I don't like any boosts.

Here is the modified conversation Allen came up with after our Jamba Juice experience and then watching the video.

Andy: It's everything we believe in

Allen: My urine looks like a rainbow

Andy: Live life without limits

Allen: What happened to Keira Knightley?

Well that is my only point to this. I know I don't usually use the blog like this, but I am about to embark on a very serious discussion on an article in The Atlantic called Marry Him! by Lori Gottlieb, so I figured I would put something light and humorous for the weekend. Be sure to come back on Monday through Friday for a 5-part series on settling for marriage. It's already been written and will release every morning at 6:00 am. It promises to be a good one.

I went out to a bar one night when I was in Fort Wayne at Christmas. Even though I was going to see my friends Lissa and Laura, the evening had quite a surprising twist that I was not expecting. I come to find out a girl I graduated with named Liz, now lives 5 minutes from my house in Georgia. I was first fascinated to find another 20-something who actually lived in the sticks of Alpharetta, and not the trendy, happening Buckhead or Midtown. But I was more fascinated by the reminder of just how small this world is.

It's crazy when you think about it. On June 9, 2001, we both graduated from high school. I went to Los Angeles. She went to West Lafyette, IN. She joined a sorority.¹ I traveled to 18 countries. We both graduated from college in May of 2005. I moved to Atlanta. She moved to Wisconsin. Yet, 6.5 years later, we find ourselves somewhat "back where we started." Only I have a better haircut.

Last night we went and saw Dan in Real Life. The movie wasn't what I expected, and to Liz's credit, she gave me the option to see American Gangster. But there was one scene in the movie that was so brilliant, but subtle, and I almost missed it.

Context: Steve Carrell plays a widowed father of three girls. They go to a family "reunion" in Rhode Island. He leaves his family to "get away" for a morning and goes to a book store. He picks up Juliette Binoche in the bookstore by suggesting a really random series of books. They then proceed to go outside and talk for a couple of hours. But here's the brilliance. Even in this romantic moment, you knew something was wrong. You didn't know why, but you knew something wasn't right. Why? Because they were on separate benches.

It's odd you know? When I go to sit on a bench, even with somebody I am not romantically interested in, and there are two benches - even if they are close to each other - I don't choose to sit on a different bench. The director did a great job because in that subtle choice he communicated both intimacy and distance. Similarity and difference. Wholeness and brokenness.

This scene draws my thoughts to the time I spent in the West Bank and I sat face to face with a Palestinian man named Omar. We shared tea. Talked about our families and friends. We discussed what we wanted to do with our lives and the current political situation in the region. And even though CNN would never portray our lives as similar, I realized at that moment we were two men, living in a small world, wanting to be on the same bench.

I think about the current affairs of this country and world and just think how much better a place this would be if we shared benches. If we didn't have that awkward, subtle divide in every area of life. If there wasn't a rich and poor bench. A white and black bench. An American and "enemy of America" bench. It isn't communism and a homogenized culture I am looking for. It isn't removing the other bench. It is the opposite. It is diversity. It is uniqueness. It is sharing a bench with those different than you. It wouldn't be us and them, it would just be us. That is the "real life" I am longing for.

Today I landed at Los Angeles International Airport at 11:03 am. But unlike a year ago on my way to Sydney, this time I would be staying for more than a couple of hours. I quickly hoped off the plane, rented my car, declined the free map, and went straight to APU.

It's a little weird being back to tell you the truth, but I am not sure why? I instantly hooked back up with friends that I hadn't seen in a while, and all was good. We caught up. Talked about life. Talked about upcoming weddings. Talked about all sorts of stuff.

But I had an hour or so free in-between things so I drove over the Cinnabon store just off campus and it was here where I got that first, sort of, weird feeling. It was a feeling like I was at this "new" place, not a place I lived at for four years. With the exception of Fort Wayne, IN - I lived in Azusa longer than anywhere else. Yet it was different. It was foreign. It wasn't the least bit nostolgic and I can't figure out why.

When I moved out to APU from Indiana (August 31, 2001), I returned the weekend after Sept 11, 2001 to surprise my girlfriend as I had a hunch she would win Homecoming Queen (which she did). I returned again in November to surprise her at her play she was in. And I returned for the third time in December for Christmas break (by then we broke up). But none of these trips ever felt like returning to a place I had never been. But today did. So maybe the reason it feels foreign is because it took me 25 months to return.

I guess that is why college is never ultimately "home" (even though I lived here pretty much year round). It's a stage of life that will never be forgotten, with friends that you'll never leave, but the location will move on with out you. It will always welcome you back, but it will never be the same.

We all I know I love to travel. What you might not know is that I recently moved into a a new apartment, got premium digital cable with a DVR, and have started watching the The Travel Channel religiously. To say I love it is an understatement. 1000 Places to See Before You Die, Samatha Brown's Passport to... series; I could go on and on. So what did I do? Of course, with remote in hand, I went to town on recording any and everything I thought looked interesting. And then I came to it: Florida's Top Ten Beaches.

Now I am not a big fan of Florida. Frankly, it is too blasé for my taste. There are so many better places to see in this world than the retirement state of America. But I saw that this show was coming up in the lineup and I just had to tape it. Why? Because I remember watching this a while back (on the Discovery Channel) and I could swear an old friend of mine was interviewed on it.

Sure enough, I woke up this morning, saw that it was recorded, fast-forwarded to the Siesta Key section (which was the official Homestead High Spring Break destination if there were such a thing), and bam! Megan. Megan and I weren't real tight in high school per se, but she went to my youth group and when I think of Megan, I think of Honduras. A trip were, amidst all odds: Ashely, Dave, Megan and myself seem to buddy up for 10 days, instead of the more probable Pat, Matt and Erika.

But this post really isn't about Megan. It is about how small the world is. The more I travel and the more I move, the more I realize how true this is. Whether it is spotting people you know on the Travel Channel, seeing a good friend play on SNL or TRL or Letterman or the AMAs, having my Uncle in Georgia send me a resume he received from someone who actually worked for me at APU but he didn't know that, being contacted by an author's publicist whose book change your perspective 10 years earlier, or going on a date with someone who goes to Samford University in Alabama whose roommate graduated with my brother at Homestead High School, it is weird to think how closely we are connected to people.

This closeness always makes me think of how interrelated the human population is, and how that interrelation comes from our common Creator. And it is this reason why I love traveling. It clearly shows how large this world is - both geographically and historically - and in comparison how small and insignificant we are. But at the same time it speaks to the Divine interconnectedness we all share in such a small world.

P.S. If anyone is reading this that went to Homestead High School, watch the clip and tell me if the person playing volleyball after the clockwipe is Kathryn Sullivan. She also looks like someone I know but I can't tell if that is her or not.

I am in Chicago O'Hare airport right now. About five minutes ago I passed the gate I departed out of when I left for school at APU. Right now I am passing a gate I arrived at from LA, 8 days after September 11th, 2001. I am heading for the gate I departed to Israel for my study abroad (which is oddly being used as a gate to Atlanta). All this takes me back to my first international trip: France, I was in 8th grade and I was 14 years old.

Thinking about this makes me crack up a little inside. Since that trip I have been in 17 other countries and flown close to 200,000 miles. What a difference 200,000 miles & 17 countries make.

My first trip to France was with about 40 other middle school students. If memory serves me correct, we agreed to the trip in October and left in June. I remember being in at least 4 meetings before we left. I can remember taking probably a good week to pack and "gather the essentials." I remember going to the bank in downtown Fort Wayne with my Dad and exchanging US money into French money. I even remember receiving my first Passport.

This trip was pretty much the opposite. I traveled by myself (although I met up with 30 APU students). I agreed to the trip in late February and departed the first of April. I had one 15 minute phone meeting. Packing took me all of 15 minutes to complete. As far as money, well, I took $40 bucks in US cash, a credit card and an ATM card and I figured I would be ok (which I was). My now worn passport was sitting cosily in my desk drawer. I knew I was going to need to stay in a hotel as well one night and I didn't even have that booked until I hoped off my plane in Tokyo on the way back and walked up to the information desk and said, "I need to book a hotel room for tonight." Quite the contrast.

I think in part this is because I have more money now, and strangely, when traveling, money is like freedom. Take for instance the hotel. I just thought to myself, worse comes to worse, I'll just book a room at the Hyatt or Hilton or wherever has an vacancy for whatever price. But I think there is more to it than just money, and that brings me back to O'Hare.

My first time in O'Hare alone was when I was 15 and I was flying to visit my grandparents in Denver. I didn't even have an escort. If I wanted to, I could figure out how many times since then I have flown through O'Hare (but I am too lazy). But all that travel builds confidence and it makes me realize a.) how small this world really is, and b.) everywhere is pretty much the same in operation but vastly different in experience.

What I mean by point b. is that a train in Japan is like a train in Europe, which is like a train in America. A bus ride in Japan is like a bus ride in America. The airport terminal in Japan is exactly like Australia, which is pretty much the same in America. Making a hotel reservation is the same everywhere, some just cost more. There's really nothing to fear when traveling abroad other than the experience you might miss by not doing so. So if you got the time and money: get traveling!

(P.S. The first photo is a group of my (at the time) friends after we checked through security at O'Hare on our way to France. The second photo is of me rubbing the belly of a GIANT Buddha statue near Kamasura.)

It's 5:12 am "locally" (locally here is defined as 35,000 feet over Whitehorse, Canada). It is now the second time this day (April 14th) I have experienced 5 am. Traveling over the International Date line is weird. I actually will arrive in Chicago before I took off in Japan. Take that Back to the Future. I am just sitting down after an hour conversation with a Marine named Mark, who apparently is also super claustrophobic on planes like I am and decided to stand back with the flight attendants for an hour.

Mark was reading a book on Philosophy when I first started talking to him, and I later found out he had served in Iraq twice and Afghanistan once. We talked about everything from the historical context of the problems in the Middle East, to traveling the world, to our homes, and what we want to do with the rest of our life. It was a good hour.

One thing I brought up with him was an observation I had made about Japan while there: I wish Europe was more like Japan. I loved Japan. These are words I never thought I'd say. In fact, in all my extreme desire to travel, traveling to the Far East never really interest me. This changed on this trip. I could go many different routes with this, but I am going to stick with one.

About 51 years ago, the USA dropped two Atomic bombs on Japan. They were our enemy, and we were in a bitter, bloody fight and we decided this was the best course of action to save lives. You would think there was some modern day resentment by the Japanese, but there was none. Contrast to Europe, who would all be speaking German right now if it weren't for our help, and they hate our guts. So let me get this straight: here we have a country where we killed innocent men, women, and children, and they were the most friendly, warm, "American" place I have been to (except Israel was more "American, but that's another story).

I just don't get it. Transition to a conversation between Hoey (APU student) and a part-Japanese kid on the trip whose Grandfather fought against America in WW2. He proceeds to tell us that his Grandfather even admits it was good for America to use the A-Bomb as it probably saved Japanese lives. Hoey proceeds to tell him that it was/is never ok for us to do something like this and I step back and think: man this is strange.

We have built so much "white/American guilt" that we hate ourselves more than those we wronged do. Why? Why can't we recognize that if we have been forgiven and the Japanese have moved on, why can't we? Better yet, why can't anyone but the Japanese recognize that America is not perfect, but that we are a good country, trying to do good in the world.

America has done some historically awful stuff. But we have also done some great things (long before Bono & Jolie ever stepped on to the scene). So why are we hated? Why are we ashamed sometimes of our international presence? Why when the countries in which we "affect" are better off then if left alone, do we get accused of imperalization?

Historically speaking, most of what is turbulent in the Middle East is Europe's fault. Whether it was the English drawing country lines without consideration of indigenous people & tribes, or German's forced exile of the Jews back to the Middle East, the problems we are trying to rectify were created by Europe. So it ends now. I've said all along Iraq will be a better place for Iraqis because of our involvement, and I won't feel guilty about that. Let's just hope the Iraqis are more like their Asian counterparts and less like Europe.


You can listen to similar thoughts I shared on our radio show this weekend by pushing the play button above. The entire show can be found at http://www.allenhuntshow.com/Listen/189/