Josh makes a splash (on the lighter side)

What a long day! Who could have guessed that I would have ended up in a dunk tank? Amongst the many things I tried to pack into this day was a fundraiser for an organization For the Kid in All of Us that sponsors The Toy Party and their new event Backpack in the Park.

I arrived with a backpack full of school supplies in tow and within 5 minutes I was accosted by 2 friends explaining they needed me to get into the dunk tank. The DUNK TANK?! My first response was no. Excuses flooded my head, "I am having dinner with my dad. I have no change of clothes?" They said, "We have a swim suit and a T-shirt." OY! I wanted to say no, but then I had the silly thought that maybe this was good karma. (Not that I think the world works this way.) And so I changed and perched myself on a board above my ersatz mikveh/ritual bath. I was standing in for Rep. Karla Drenner who was recovering from surgery. With both of our clout, and my adorable/abrasive humor, I made a good deal of money For the Kid in All of Us. Several people paid 15 dollars for the pleasure of dunking me even if they missed all 9 times. I had a good time heckling the throwers. I yelled at a woman that she was a disappointment to lesbian softball players everywhere and I told a transgendered woman that she threw like a girl. Both paid 15 bucks to dunk me! My friend Allen instead of throwing the ball at the button, threw it at me directly. (All in good fun, folks--they were friends so they laughed) Perhaps this was not so good for my karma after all.

Afterwards, I had dinner with my dad and his wife. The day before I had lunch with my mom. Not being morbid, just rounding the bases like one should. What has been more anxiety-provoking than the trip itself has been how many people have said, "Don't go!" This trip just peels back a veil that we all live with: Life is unpredictable. It is always good to touch the bases and say your I love yous. We don't do that enough as it is. Now those folks who chase twisters or dive with sharks, their lives may have a bit more predictably, but every day is filled with some kind of danger. We just have to ask, "How do we want to live our lives?"

When it is all said and done, I suppose being told "You're a good sport!" as the Backpack party organizers did for my willingness to jump in the tank is about as good as anyone can expect.

By the way, I leave tonight. Pray with me for peace.

I close with a Turkish poem:

ON LIVING (PART 1) by Nazim Hikmet

Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel for example--
I mean without looking for something beyond
and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.

Living is no laughing matter:
you must take it so seriously,
so much so and to such a
degree
that, for example, your hands tied behind
your back,
your back to the wall,
or else in a laboratory
in your white coat and safety glasses,
you can die for people--
even for people whose faces you've never seen
even though you know living
is the most real, the most
beautiful thing.

I mean you must take life so seriously
that even at seventy. for example, you'll plant
olive trees--
and not for your children, either,
but because although you fear death you don't
believe it,
because living, I mean weighs heavier.