A Day at Leslie's Farm

Today we got up at 7:30 a.m. to help my friend Leslie and her husband George plant an apple and paw paw tree orchard. In addition to my boys, the crew included my cousin Warrick and my nephew Christopher.

The boys had helped out in the fall with the planting of peach trees for the orchard on the farmland owned by Leslie's father northeast of Brownsburg. This time, the process was much safer and more efficient because George had pre-dug the post holes into which the young trees were placed.

We'd had to postpone the birthday party we'd scheduled for Roland at Party Safari in Avon because our day was over-committed. But Leslie was generous enough to allow us to celebrate His 11th birthday at the farm in the evening, which Roland considered a suitable substitute. The boys love the farm because of the dirt bikes and ATVS and the Amish-built cabin Leslie's father built there last year.

Though I'd bought a cake last night, I had to run out at the last minute to gather food and party supplies. George built Roland a bonfire. The boys are all pyromaniacs.

I'm never sure of which gifts I'll give the boys. I usually try to give them a computer game, a book, maybe a toy and a gemstone. Roland, Andrew and Alex each became enamored of my gemstone collection. In order to keep mine intact, I have started them each on their own. Roland receives heart-shaped faceted gemstones. This time, I gave him bytownite, sometimes called a yellow labradorite. When possible, I give Andrew cabochons and stones sculpted into tiny Buddha statuettes for Alex.

My Protege Grows Up

Malcolm Wells II speaks at a Book a Million Open Mic Night (Left). Educator John Lofflin, a former colleague from my days at Indianapolis Public Schools shares his own poetry with the mostly teen and young adult audience.

This evening, the boys and I went to hear a friend of mine, motivational speaker Malcolm Wells II, do his thing at a Books a Million Open Mic Night. I met Malcolm when he was 7 years old and his mother called me one afternoon when I was a reporter at The Indianapolis Star. Malcolm, she said, was being bullied because he was biracial. I hadn't experienced very many problems as a mixed-race child, but I was surprised and angry to find that children could still face problems associated with the decision their parents made to be together.

That was the beginning of that has been a long, sometimes tumultuous, friendship. I wrote to Malcolm a series of open letters containing information that I thought a biracial boy needed to know to become a productive, self-aware biracial adult. We often spoke to groups together, starting with the Circle Unitarian-Universalist Fellowship, the church in which I grew up. I attended his confirmation at North United Methodist Church. We were mystified by the other patrons who scratched their heads at an exhibition of art on multiracial themes at the Indianapolis Art Center.

It was clear from the start that Malcolm would turn out to be something special. He was incredibly intelligent as a child. And he was humble about his ability to captivate audiences of teachers and peers at various conferences and events throughout Indianapolis Public Schools. Malcolm told an audience one day that I was his hero when that night his mother showed me the photos from his confirmation trip to Atlanta. I did a double-take when I realized that the man next to whom he sat was Nobel Prize winner Desmond Tutu.

Malcolm has followed a long difficult road. When I saw him tonight, he looked like that little boy I knew with a fresh haircut and dressed for success. But he's had a hard row to hoe. There were many years that Malcolm had little more to say to me than a grunt. He became disillusioned with school and fell in with the wrong crowd. He's spent time in jail for robbery.

But Malcolm's is a story of inspiration. He shows young people there's light at the end of the tunnel.

Bogus Gasoline Boycott

I recently received an email from a friend encouraging me to boycott filling my gasoline tank today. I wrote her back and told her I was not planning to participate primarily because my family's livelihood is provided by Exxon Mobil. More importantly, a boycott won't help because there are many factors that won't be influenced by that. Here are the reasons why an oil boycott is a futile effort:

1. I don't need to buy gas today. I bought gas the other day, so whether or not there was a boycott, I wouldn't have stopped at the local BP. In fact, that is true of most people. We wouldn't have all run out to buy gasoline today. And even if we chose not to drive today, we likely wouldn't choose to remain at home. We'd still have to go to work, to the store and to our regular appointments. For many of us, that wouldn't be within walking distance. And if we took public transportation, how would that help the message we're trying to send? After all, buses and taxis run on gasoline.

2. Gas prices are partially a product of supply and demand. Our demand has gone up as we've gone from being one-vehicle to two-and three-vehicle families. Last week, I admired a friend's new Mercedes two-seater, which joined a veritable junk yard of cars in his driveway. That was the third vehicle he assigned to himself. His daughter and son each also own two vehicles. Our own increased demand for oil is exacerbated by the economic expansion of China. There are only so many rigs and refineries at work at any given time, and even if a new one is put into operation, its capacity is outstripped by demand.

3. Some rigs and derricks are having to dig deeper because the oil at near the surface has been depleted. That means additional costs.

4. Nigeria, the world's eighth-largest oil producer, recently conducted an election that was deemed not credible. That nation appears to be poised for a civil war starting as early as the end of the month. In addition, a spate of high-ransom kidnappings is forcing the large oil companies to consider their presence in and around the West African nation. The multi-million-dollar ransoms the oil companies claim they don't pay (wink, wink) also cut into the bottom line.

The bottom line: Our high-octane lifestyle comes at a high price.

Mother's Day

My son Roland and Kevin O'Keefe, president and CEO of the Riley Children's Foundation (top left); Roland, nephews Andrew and Alex with Super Bowl-winning Colts tight end Ben Utecht (top right); Andrew and Roland with the 2007 pace car (bottom left); Andrew, Alex and Roland.

I had a great Mother's Day. A couple of weeks ago, my son Roland received an invitation from the Riley Children's Foundation to attend Riley Family Day at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Roland was born with some problems that required him to stay for three weeks at Riley. He since has served as a poster boy for various print and broadcast campaigns, including a public service announcement shot with NASCAR star Jeff Gordon.

The day was great. We arrived at the Speedway where we were given a prime parking spot. When we entered the huge Pavilions A and B, I was given a carnation corsage. We each received holders for our tickets. The boys were given posters and limited edition Speedway pins, one of this year's pace car and another showing a winner drinking milk, a tradition following the race.
We ate a hearty lunch that included the awesome chicken and Indiana favorite, fried biscuits and apple butter.

We sat in the stands and watched as several drivers qualified. Being on the pit side, we had great views of the crews preparing the cars for their runs. my brother-in-law Andrew the Elder and I were able to tour the garage area, where we saw disassembled cars tightened and tweaked for their moments on the tracks.

Thanks Roland!

The Riley Children's Foundation ensures that any child in Indiana who needs the unique services provided by Riley Hospital is able to receive them regardless of the family's ability to pay. So if you feel a need to give a charitable contribution, please, keep the foundation in your thoughts.