"Do I Know You?" or "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again."

Technology can be fickle. Take cell phones. While this little gizmo has "freed us from our homes," in truth, they create leashes. We are never alone unless the phone is off, or out of range, and even then the thought of missing an important call throws us into a panic. The black books and date books have been replaced by contact lists and digital calendars. Our text messages become our modes of vital communications - including the all-important break up message (Its not U, its Me). And every person now has their own personal assistant, taking messages for us when we don't know who's calling or don't want to talk to whomever has the time to speed dial our number.

But what happens when you receive a text message from a mystery person? Usually, you ignore it, but sometimes you just play right along.

---

A friend called me the other night. For her, the evening began with a random text message. The message itself was commonplace, but my friend - we'll call her Annie - decided to play along with the game.

Annie had called me wondering if I knew the number and, in turn, the person with whom she was texting. Unfortunately - or rather fortunately for the story that transpired - I did not. I tried looking up my numbers in my phone. I reverse-checked the number on a few websites. I even did a google search in the vain attempt at finding someone foolish enough to publicize their cell phone number (which this obviously was since Annie was texting with the person).

The messages the two had already exchanged revealed very little. Actually, we could only determine the person was male when he commented that he was trying to understand women - and what guy isn't?

My original suggestion of calling the person from my phone, to a number in another state, and listen for the voice mail and figure out the person's name did not go well.

"What if he answers?" Annie asked. Well, I would just ask for someone who obviously isn't there and apologize for dialing the wrong number. Needless to say we didn't take this approach.

There were attempts to find out more information. Annie asked how Christmas and New Year's went, only to find out New Year's was busy and Christmas was awkward with his sister bringing her boyfriend and the mystery man getting a guitar from the parents. So we could only narrow it down to guys with sisters and not musically inclined.

I had her ask about the guy's work, only to find out that work is slow. Still no clues here. This is when I brought up finding out directly through my original plan.

"But what if he's a guy I used to date and want to date him again?" she replied. How the two correlate, I have yet to figure out.

Granted, all of this could've been prevented if Annie used her cunning mind at the beginning of our scenario and asked who the person was straightforward. Most people do this, or ignore the text, when confronted with a number and no name. It's not rude, since the number is obviously not one we have used before. But, no. My friend didn't start thinking of asking our mystery person until later in the game. Each time, however, I had to remind her that it would not be wise to bluntly ask for his name since it would reveal holding a, now, lengthy conversation with someone we did not know.

As an alternative, however, I decided we should have Annie feign a bad phone, asking our John Doe to call her. She wouldn't answer the phone in this situation, so we'd either have a voice clue or he would provide his name. Granted, by this point, normal people would've given up and admitted to having no clue who was on the other end. But we are not normal. Nor was there a point of giving up. It was late at night and the mystery was puzzling.

Before we were able to enact our brilliant plan, Mystery X had asked about my friend's Christmas. When she responded her holiday's similarities to A Christmas Story, his response shed new light into the game. The man does not like the movie, and why should he? I think the movie is horrible, and could go into great detail about it's failures as a glimpse into Americana Christmas.

After a brief debate regarding this new information Operation: Lampshade (not my name) was enacted. Shortly after sending the message, Annie's phone was beeping in to another call, indicating that our ruse was working. It was only a matter of time before we could unmasked our friend.

Now, typically when a person dials a number to test out a phone's ability to receive incoming calls they will do one of two things. Either they will reach the person who's phone is in questions or they will leave a message providing evidence of the failed attempt. When you deal with our unknown entity you get a third option: no message. What can we do next? Do we call his bluff in not leaving a message, thus revealing the phone did work and we chose not to answer it for ulterior motives? No, we come up with a new plan.

When receiving the text confirming that our plan failed, it was time to establish a new method to our madness. We would reply back that Annie would check her voicemail to see if she could at least receive a message. When he responds that he didn't leave a message, we would then tell him to hold on. A few moments later, we would send another text message asking to call again since we have now reset our towers. Granted, by this point it has become absolutely apparent that we are losing our minds. But, we trudged on because, as Annie put it, "At this point, I'm addicted to the game."

---

At what point did this become a game? After having lived through it, I'm still unsure how we went from trying to figure out who this person was to trying to come up with the most creative ways to discover his identity. Even the cell phone towers wasn't the most interesting. At one point, my friend actually said she was going to stop by some pay phone on her way to work the next morning, call the number up and listen for the guy's answer. She would keep silent, but listen to figure out the person's identity.

---

We didn't get this far in the game, however. At some point in the chaos, Annie took an educated guess into who this might be and texted a possible mutual friend. When that person didn't respond, she started second guessing herself. But, before we enacted the continuation of our psychosis, I suggested she send a text saying "Wait, I thought I was talking to X," and see what would happen. Indeed, it turned out her guess was right and the mystery person now had a name. Of course, I still have no idea who this guy was, but it was entertaining to play along.

"Bark twice if you're in Milwaukee."

Visiting relatives can be a nightmare. The trip can be one frustration followed by another. The kids are bored, or fighting, in the car. You want to fall asleep after driving 50 miles down the same tree-lined highway. The wife, or husband, or whatever, nags about something because they are just as bored. Then you get there and you can't wait to spend even more time with each other. By the time you're done with your visit, the relatives remember why they live so far away, the family remembers why they don't spend more time together, and you can't wait to go back to work because it feels like a vacation.

I'm so glad I'm single.

---

This past weekend, I took a trip to visit my grandparents. While I didn't get to leave as early as I wanted to, because of extreme cold temperatures from the Great White North. Being just me in the truck, the drive was quite pleasant. It definitely was a welcome detour from the monotony of my bedroom/office. By the time I arrived, the air warmed up to a balmy negative one degree. Not that anyone was paying attention the entire time they were driving (or wondering when the last time he experienced above-zero weather).

Aside from the cold, the trip was relaxing. There was the usual nagging from my grandfather about being a Republican in a Democratic family (a very Democratic family, I might add) and we had a lively discussion about why the current economic problems aren't a repeat of the Great Depression. I will say, however, that there is some difficulty trying to discuss the Great Depression with your family when they've actually lived through it and you only studied about it. But it wasn't what I did or what we discussed that set this weekend apart from other trips to their home. It was what I learned.

My grandfather isn't in the best of health. He's had problems with his back and hip for several months and you can tell it bothers him. Not the pain, mind you. He would never admit to being in pain. But it is the limitations his predicament has placed in him. His work ethic is something to admire. For as long as I can remember, he would be up before the sun rose and wouldn't rest until the sun dipped into the west or the heat prevented him from continuing on. When it go to hot to farm, he'd work around the house. Only on the weekends, or when there was a big family gathering, did I see him enjoy the outdoors. And did he ever enjoy it.

This is the man who taught me fishing. When I was young, he took my brother and I out into the middle of the lake not far from Ladysmith. He'd show us how to cast with our beginner poles, teach us the fine art of reeling a line in to lure the fish onto the hook, and what to do on the rare occasion that we caught something. I remember one of the earlier times we went fishing together, I tried to cast a line as far as I could. I took the pole as far back behind me as possible and swung it around to the front, remembering to let go of the line in the process. Unfortunately, I didn't really swing the pole above me but in a more sidearm movement. This provided two quick lessons in fishing. One, the quick jerk and late release of the line does not work when you are trying to cast a long way out. Two, sidearming should stay in baseball, because you never know when you'll catch your grandfathers hat on the line and send it into the water. No matter how many mistakes I made, my grandfather remained very patient with me. He never told me to stop, instead he would show me how to do it differently. As young as we were, it took many tries before we could get it right.

When I was older, my grandfather made the leap from a great man to a superman. My brother and I had the good fortune to spend a few weeks with our grandparents one summer. Because of the long visit, my grandfather thought it was time for us to visit their cabin, and to go fishing. But this time we didn't learn our lesson from fishing. The cabin was right next to the lake, with its own little pier and boat launch. We didn't need to drive around to somewhere to get in the water, and that spelled trouble for my brother and I.

After we settled into our temporary home for the weekend, our grandparents let us take a canoe into the water for a short while. Excited as we were, I don't think once my brother or I took into account how little we knew about rowing a boat. It seems easy enough, though, so we just hit the water without pause. A few minutes into our adventure, we quickly realized the water current was pushing our little boat faster than our little arms could row. Despite our best efforts, we kept drifting farther and farther away from the cabin. When there seemed little else that we could do, out from the shore, well away from the cabin, was our grandfather. He told at us about what to do, row the canoe as close to the shore as we could. He calmly bellowed out for us to not try for the straight line in, but to just eventually get to shore in any way possible. After what seemed like forever, but probably was only 15-20 minutes, we were close enough to the shore for him to climb aboard and row us back to the cabin. Not once did he scold us. Not once did we feel ashamed. He just told us that it is a lesson all boaters will eventually learn.

These stories built up my grandfather as the man who could do no wrong. Then there were the tales of how his heart was bigger than his chest. As I mentioned earlier, my grandfather lived through the depression. He is from the old school mind about work; women stayed at home and men went out to provide for the household. When my grandmother was stricken ill for several months, however, it was his heart that proved there were exceptions to everything.

While I was in high school, I received word that my grandmother wasn't feeling well. She had hurt her back somehow, but the pain was not going away with bed rest. Through time, and several doctors, the pain was discovered to be a symptom of a debilitating disease, forcing her into a life of immobility. Her days of cleaning the house, attending women's group meetings and planning church events appeared over, replaced with the routine of bed rest and watching the occasional television program. No longer would my grandfather receive his home-cooked meal when he came home from the farm, nor would there be an immaculate home when he returned from his day's labor. But that is when the man's compassion for his wife took hold of his ways.

I remember hearing from Dad about his taking over the maintenance of the home. He became the provider of the household and the keeper of the home. His days were split between the farm and the housework, cleaning what needed to be cleaned and cooking what meals he could prepare. For the modern man, this doesn't seem like much. But for my grandfather's generation, this was nothing short of love in its purest form. My grandmother's condition eventually improved, and my grandfather returned to his old lifestyle, but I can never erase the thought of him taking the steps necessary to maintain the home and take care of his wife throughout that whole ordeal. I'm still amazed at what transpired over that year, especially since neither of them will talk about it. Only occasionally do you hear my grandmother mention she was ill.

This weekend proved to be more than just a visit to see the family. It was a realization that even the mightiest of men slow down as time moves on. His walk was a little slower, with pain shooting through his hip at every step, and his restlessness grew a little higher, with the back keeping him from his everyday chores. But this man, the one I grew up to idolize, was still the man I visited this weekend. Despite his ailments, his humor and his character are still alive, more vibrant than before. He never backs down from a fight, never lets a good comment remain silent. Each opinion I may have is countered with a jab about why I must be wrong because I am a Republican. This weekend showed me that while he may have lost a step, he still has his mind and he is still the same man I loved when I was growing up.

He may not be the immortal god I built him up to be when I was younger. He isn't even the perfect person we all want to be someday. But he is exactly what I'd like to be when I grow up; compassionate, humorous, strong and hard working. There is nothing that would make me happier than knowing that I lived up to my family name by emulating the man he came to be.

"What's Next?"

In our time of crisis, we find peace. In our time of despair, we have hope. But for many, we still have the partisan bickering that has repelled us from faith in our government. Does this mean President Barack Obama is doomed in his efforts enact the change for which he campaigned? Maybe not, but history doesn't bode well for him.

There have been many presidents who have called for the beginning of a new era in government. John F. Kennedy called it a new era when the young man (second youngest ever to hold the highest office in our land) succeeded the older general (at the time the oldest ever to leave the office). George W. Bush called it a "new commitment to live out our nation's promise through civility, courage, compassion and character. " But were these really new beginnings?

Not really. Instead, we saw the continuation of old. Kennedy, with all the greatness many perceive him to be, could not get most of his agenda passed. He struggled to get his New Frontier dreams into reality, although he did quite a bit by introducing the world to mental health issues. It wasn't until after his assassination in 1963 that action started happening in his name. Then, under Lyndon Johnson's Great Society program, did we see the creation of Medicare and Medicaid, education aid and real civil rights legislation.

Bush's goals took a severe turn towards foreign policy because of September 11, 2001, and the idea of the "compassionate conservative" seemed to disappear from our lexicon. Instead of living our our nation's promise, we started to defend freedom at all costs. Included in that cost was Bush's standing among the American public. His domestic agenda took a backseat to homeland security, leaving No Child Left Behind withering away.

This doesn't mean there is no hope for Obama. Other president's have initiated new directions for this country that have proven to be highly successful. Theodore Roosevelt called for a renewed Americanism for the 20th Century, fusing his jingoism with the needs for government and business reform for a new America. His ascension into the presidency in 1901 sounded the death knell for the spoils system in our government and ushered in the era of progressivism. The Roosevelt Corollary and the Great White Fleet introduced the world to America's naval prowess.

His cousin Franklin is largely credited with creating a massive expansion of government through his New Deal, although I'd argue that it was Herbert Hoover who started the enormous injection of government into our economy before Franklin Roosevelt took over and bulked Hoover's plans into the juggernaut we know today.

The success of the Roosevelts to enact change, along with previous presidents who were able to make sure our nation continued to grow into the pillar of freedom she is today gives hope to Obama's success in restoring our faith in a government and ending the vicious partisan fighting reminiscent of the 19th Century. However, recent history shows it may be easier said than done, especially with the limited amount of time Obama may have.

In our nation's 222-year history under the Constitution we have rarely had three presidents re-elected consecutively. Actually, we've only had one instance when this happened, and all three were from the same party. Thomas Jefferson was elected to succeed John Adams and stayed for two terms. James Madison succeeded his friend and served through a war, which nearly cost him his reelection and damaged his popularity in the nation. His Secretary of State and War, James Monroe, succeeded the little commander in chief and then enjoyed the most popular reelection in history, save George Washington. This back-to-back-to-back instance of 24 years and three presidents did not happen again in the traditional sense. (I don't recognize the Roosevelt-Truman-Eisenhower years because Truman was elected to one term as president, having served most of Roosevelt's fourth term after FDR died in office.)

This means Obama not only has to overcome the partisan rancor but tradition. It is a rare feat to change the direction of our nation under one president, but it has happened and will happen again. Just like sports, because it doesn't happen often doesn't mean it will never happen again. We'll just have to wait and see if this truly was a historic occasion for reasons beyond the obvious.

"I like not working. It helps me catch up on my scrapbooking."

Unemployment can be a real pain. There are the long days where you interact with no one, save for the mailman who is starting to wonder if you're a stalker. But it is all in how you handle the time from work that makes or breaks your life. For me, I'm trying to get a routine and keep with it.

It's been decent. I wake up at the same time every day, have breakfast downstairs while reading the Wall Street Journal (because the Kane County Chronicle just doesn't cut it) before doing some daily task I've set out to do. Lately it has been shoveling snow. I don't understand Chicago weather and cannot for the life of me figure out how it can possible snow so much. I'm running out of place to put the shoveled snow! The piles are growing piles! But I digress.

Around 10-11a I head out to the gym. I need this time for me and my health. It's a nice time away from the house, guaranteed, and it helps me interact with the real world on a face-to-face basis.

After that, I'll eat a light lunch and then delve into the job hunt. This will typically last four or five hours, as I want to make sure every cover letter is written properly and without error, while also making sure I have exhausted all pertinent openings post that day. Then the family gets home and the day turns to night with me wondering what'll happen tomorrow.

Now, there are some rules I've put upon myself. First off, no television. I haven't watched a lot of TV since I returned from Africa as it is, but with the job hunt being No. 1 on my radar, it is even more important that I don't find myself in front of the tube wasting my life away. I do that, then I'll find excuses to put off everything.

Secondly, make sure I interact with people outside of this house. By e-mailing, chatting and going to places, I'm able to keep my sanity and stay in touch with the world around me. Otherwise, each day would be a monotonous bore.

Finally, don't anticipate any job application will lead to an interview. This is for me alone. If I lead myself to believe every application I submit will turn into an interview, I'm going to set myself up for a major letdown. It'll take some time before I can find the job lead that'll grant me unemployment.

While all this is going on, however, I'm letting my mind wander. I've noticed some other opportunities that sound like a load of fun. For example, the Synod has long-term teaching programs where people go to other countries and teach various subjects for a year.

There is one program that really catches my eye; A year in Slovakia. Now who wouldn't want to do that? Okay, most people who hate cold weather and a pile of snow (where do they put it all!?) But Slovakia is where my family is from, my dad's side that is, and it would be great to take a year off and teach Conversational English (in English, which is specified on the form) and learn more about the country where my family originated. Impractical? Maybe, but you can tell you mind wonders when you're dealing with impracticalities.

And that's basically my day, or rather days, of job hunting. It can be tedious, but so can some jobs. The only difference is my office doubles as a bed. Who can say that?