I Love Jesuit School

Phi Sigma Tau (National Philosophy Honors Society) presents: Professor Thomas Carson, speaking on: The Cubs, Baseball, and the Problem of Evil Does the existence of such evils as the Cubs' terrible record for the past 98 years constitute evidence for the non-existence of God? Wednesday April 5, 4-5:30PM Crown Center 434 Refreshments to follow

A Contrast In Styles

In the past week, I've had two interviews for teaching positions for next year. Here's a short recount of each. TEACH FOR AMERICA: One hell of an intense day. Five hours long. Sample teaching lesson. Group discussion. Individual reflection. Individual problem solving. Information session. Role playing. Rank all 26 regional preferences. Personal interview. Situational questions. Personal questions. Interviewers furiously scribbling notes all day, offering no feedback. One more thing, fill out this survey. Will hear on April 13. Throbbing headache and exhausted at the end of the day. ALLIANCE FOR CATHOLIC EDUCATION: One hell of a quick phone call. 20-25 minutes. Why do you want to join our program? What makes a good teacher? How do you handle stress? Stuff like that. Here's what you are qualified to teach. My thought: Why am I being interviewed over two months (!!!) after I paid $10 to overnight my application? Guy doesn't know. Claims he has been given my file and told to interview me. Even though guy who set up interview said interviewer was Assistant Director. Whatever. One more thing. For sure I'd be on waitlist. Positions have already been filled. Don't worry, people are always taken from the waitlist. Will hear sooner than later. Maybe as late as May though. Laughing in disgust at the end of the day. Looks like my initial sarcasm about Notre Dame might not have been too far off.

What Am I Thinking?

To the College Committee on Commencement, I wish to express my interest to be one of the student speakers for the upcoming commencement ceremony. By reading my cover letter, resume, and abstract, I believe you will find that I am suitably qualified to receive this considerable honor. Being bestowed with this honor would offer me a humbling end to my undergraduate career. If selected to deliver the speech, I would bring a well-rounded perspective to the graduates and their families. Through my numerous involvements with University Ministry and the study abroad program, I have met a diverse group of people that has opened my eyes to parts of life that I could have only imagined existed before coming to Loyola. Being a theology major has taught me many things, but one aspect in particular sticks out as the most important. By studying theology and the deeper meanings of what it means to be fully human, I have learned a considerable amount about how to connect with people at a profound and meaningful level. Only after establishing a degree of common experience can anyone truly connect with anybody else. No matter how different people may appear on the outside, their hopes, dreams, longings, fears, beliefs about a greater power, and other common experiences of any human life are all capable of providing a unifying force. I consider this skill—the skill to bring these commonalities to the surface and connect with others—to be one of my greatest. Thank you for your consideration. Sincerely, Brian F. Gilmore College of Arts and Sciences

Spring Break '06: The Group

Here's one last short post about my Spring Break. If you want more, feel free to ask, but I think it's time for a new topic to write about. After seven days spent together, upwards of 2,000 miles driven, nights spent sleeping next to each other on carpet, shared meals, shared reflections, working together, game playing, minimal showers and changes of clothes, inside jokes, group discussions, and a constant state of general togetherness, you obviously bond together as a group. Our group was no exception. And what a group it was. Presenting: Marisa, Charlotte, Erin, Dana, Paul, Heather, Brian, Melanie, Laura, and Lyndsi. Spring Break '06; Rosebud Reservation; Mission, South Dakota; SIGNING OFF. Mitakuye oyasin!

Spring Break '06: Hoch, True Lakota Warrior

Hoch: True Lakota Warrior Originally uploaded by bgilmor.

This is Hoch - director of the FLC, fun-loving guy, and our personal tour guide and adventure-seeker throughout the week. Hoch is the shortened form of his Lakota name, which is something much too long for me to even attempt to sound out. Hoch was a wonderful friend to have. Archery isn't the only thing that he's a straight-shooter in. He'd be just as likely to bluuntly point out the negatives of a situation--be it with housing, neighborhoods, economics, health care, schools, (the list goes on and on...)--as he was to point out the successes and beauty of something. He'd lay it all out on the line in a way that was as close to objective as possible. He just wanted us to know what they were dealing with. Like I said, he also knows how to have fun. At the start of the week, he casually asked if I was left-handed. Slightly taken by the randomness of his question, I said that in most things, no, but in certain things, like basketball, I am. He said how he remembered that I "lucked out" and hit a goofy-looking left-handed shot to beat his team in a pickup game of basketball that we played last time. The rest of the group got a good laugh out of that. His laid back, yet quietly demanding and in control, personality seemed to mesh well with the kids. One story about him and the kids sticks out in my mind. On the final day, we went with the kids on a field trip across the state. At one point, we stopped at a look-out spot in the Badlands, and some of us climbed down and through them. Hoch was the one leading the charge, barking out orders for the kids who were following behind him. Though they probably wouldn't admit it, some of the kids were having trouble (hell, let's include me in that group) finding success climbing up the precipitous, rocky formation (Looking back, this was actually quite a dangerous situation, as one misstep could have spelled a serious injury). Hoch didn't appear worried though. He was directing everyone how to get up, imploring them along like it wasn't a big deal at all. Through simple encouragement to the kids ("You're a Lakota warrior! You can do it!"), he empowered them to find what it took within themselves to get over the hump, so to speak. Don't get me wrong, finding the inner strength needed to overcome fears is a big accomplishment for anyone, but for these kids, it seemed to be something extra special. For as dedicated as he is to the kids and the program at the FLC (he also teaches a pyschology class at the university one night a week, as well as raising a three and ten year old), Hoch did show signs of wear, admitting to me that he would entertain other options with prevention work should they develop. However, it was also obvious how he holds his tribe and town dear to his heart, saying he could never live in a city like Chicago ("Whoa, people live on top of each other! I'm a Plains Indian, man.") He speaks passionately about his people, openly wondering why others would found success didn't come back and try to pull the rest of the community out with them. He speaks with the candor and perspective of someone who will surely find success in whatever he does.

Spring Break '06: Family Life Center

Our place of residence all week was the Family Life Center, or FLC, as it is affectionately known around those parts. The mission of the FLC is to provide an alternative learning environment for kids who have been suspended or kicked out of their normal middle and high schools. There are FLCs in all parts of the country, but the FLC in Mission is one of the only ones that provide all-day services, not just after-school care. The kids, 15 or 20 of them currently, ranging in age from maybe 12-17, stay there for a period of 90 days and try to work on their studies, behavior, and social interactions. They are rewarded for their actions with privileges to leave the FLC for field trips, lunches, and other organized outings. Hoch, the director of the program, said that the FLC represents a "last chance" for kids. If they don't succeed at the FLC and get reintegrated into their schools, he said they will probably eventually end up in jail. There are tutors and prevention specialists who work with the kids throughout the day. I noticed that one of the positive fixtures at the FLC two years ago, Tipi, was no longer around. I learned she had moved on, showing some of the frustrations that accompany such a difficult position. Gloria, Myron, Jacinda, Harley, Hoch, and a couple of others seemed to be doing some really positive work with the kids, though. Not only do they teach them academics, but they, and other speakers who come in, try to educate the kids about their cultural heritage. As is the case with many minority cultures these days, their history, language, and customs are in danger of being relegated to a museum with the younger generations, so exposure to this seems to have become another one of the major aims of the program. Above is a picture of the FLC that I took two years ago. It looks pretty much the same now, save for the fact that we were not caught in a violent blizzard this year. As you can guess from the picture, it is nothing more than a normal, modest ranch-house. In the evenings, we would spread out our sleeping bags and sleep on the carpeted living room floor. Without a stove or refrigerator, food preparation for ten was a trick, but we made due with a microwave. In the morning, we would clean up the area in preparation for tables and chairs to be moved in for the school day. In the beginning part of the week, Hoch seemed to make sure that we wouldn't be around the kids much. Once they arrived in the morning, we would typically be leaving for a day's worth of activities. He was apparently not confident that this year's kids would interact favorably with us, and this set up a little confusion with the kids not knowing exactly what we were doing ("You sleep on the floor?"). Toward the end of week, though, this situation improved. Ones who had earned advanced privileges participated in various activities with us: attending a lecture, horseback riding, and a field trip across the state to Wounded Knee, the Badlands, and Crazy Horse Memorial in the Black Hills. For the most part, they were some great kids who just happened to fall into some trouble. Which, when you look at the lack of options available to kids around Mission and the rest of Rosebud, wasn't shocking in the least bit. Over the course of the week, we scraped & painted the floor of the garage (that had been converted into classroom space) and sanded & painted the outside deck. Our work was minimal, though, in comparison to what we were learning everyday. The trip was definitely a cultural immersion and not what some people might call a "service" or "mission" trip.

Spring Break '06: Sacred Space

Last spring, I tried to describe what it was like to set foot in St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel, two awe-inspiring parts of the Catholic heritage. Now, let me try to describe what it was like to encounter a bit of Native American sacred space. First, the inipi (sweat lodge) ceremony. In the Native American way of life, the inipi ceremony is a sacred ritual of purification, intercession, thanksgiving, and communion. Roughly speaking, it is what the Mass is to a Catholic. However, for the Lakota, there are no regulations or suggestions for how often you must take part in this ceremony. It is there whenever you want it. Some sweat on a near-daily basis, some once a week, some once a month, or some hardly at all. In fact, we learned that some of the kids there knew nothing about the ceremony at all. As you can see, the exterior of the sweat lodge is nothing more than a small, earthy structure made out of branches, rugs, and tarps. On the inside, there is a firepit in the middle, with room for maybe 13 people to sit comfortably around the pit. I pulled this picture off the web, but I thought it would help to get an idea of what I'm talking about, even though I think this particular picture was taken in Canada. Ritual preparation for the ceremony takes place long before anyone ever sets foot within the lodge itself. Seven large rocks - representing the four directions, the air above, the ground below, and the fire within - are selected and ceremonially placed on the fire. Then, nearly two dozen more rocks are placed on the fire, all of which are left to bake on the fire for at least two hours. Over the course of the ceremony, ritual dominates the proceedings. All the rocks are brought into the lodge, their initial red glow accentuated in the otherwise total darkness. The ceremony usually lasts about 45 minutes. Lakota songs are sung, prayers are offered, and the sacred chanupa is smoked. The person running the sweat has a large bucket of water at his disposal, and every so often he will throw another ladle-full onto the rocks, sending off blasts of scorching air. That part of it is reminiscent to being in a sauna, but I don't remember any sauna ever being so physically demanding. There's more to be said about the experience, but I feel in me describing it, it loses some of its meaning. We made friends with a man who would sweat nearly every night, so over the course of the week, our group participated in three sweats, including two on single day. My point here has been to try to impart on you the natural simplicity of all the materials involved in the ritual. Fire, rocks, and water provide the backbone of the ceremony. At the end of the week, we drove past a site ("Crow Dog's Paradise") for the sacred sundance, a ritual where once a year in the summer, people gather for four days of dancing, community, and prayer - all without the aid of food and water. Much like any sweat lodge, this site wasn't hardly outwardly impressive or imposing. The land was abandoned and barren, the site marked by splotchy white paint on an old abandoned tire, tattered prayer flags tied to a central tree blew in the wind, and foundations of sweat lodges showed. As if they were protecting the sacredness of the space, two stray dogs came toward our van and barked ferociously. Yet, just like being in the presence of a sweat lodge, a sense of something bigger than yourself radiated. The Lakota would describe this as the presence of sacred spirits. Their sense of sacred space is something totally foreign to anything I have grown up with. Yet in many ways, the way they view sacred worship makes perfect sense.

Spring Break '06: A Photo Journey

For all my photos from my trip, go here.

Spring Break '06: On the Rez

My senior year spring break is now officially a thing of the past. Time for wild spring break stories, right? Well, kinda. Here we go. Anyway, let's start with the basics. Here's where I spent my week: Yes, you're right, that wonderful state you see on the map is South Dakota. Having travelled for nearly 14 hours out of Chicago, admiring the beautiful I-90 pavement for a healthy 790 miles, we found ourselves in the small town of Mission, a town of about 730 people in south-central South Dakota on the Nebraska border. Todd County (pictured in red), the county which contains the town of Mission and most of the Rosebud Indian Reservation, is listed as the 5th poorest county in the country, as measured by per capita income. In fact, four of the top five and five of the top ten poorest such counties in the country are all in South Dakota, their populations mostly consisting of Native Americans on reservation land. An interesting fact. Numbers are one thing, so what did it look like? The poverty of the town is plainly obvious. Houses and buildings are run-down. Roads are bumpy and dusty. Cars are driven until they give out for good and find a permanent home on a front lawn next to the previous five. Services appear minimal. Job opportunities are scarce. Movie theatre? Fast food chains? Forget about them. Most businesses in the town are owned by white people, as any Indian-operated stores aren't supported by the residents. It's hard enough for these people to get going with something good in their lives when they don't have to deal with the jealousy of seeing a successful neighbor pulling them back down. The Todd Country Tribune only comes out once a week. The Indian Health Service building, located a healthy 20-25 minute drive outside of town, offers a long wait, Tylenol, and green cough syrup as antidote for any assortment of maladies. The quality of life appears to be as rugged as the terrain. Over the next few days, however, I'm going to try to pull out some of the inherent goodness of the location and bring it to light in this blog.