You may have read recently about two brothers whose bodies were found wrapped in plastic bags and dumped in a shopping cart. One of those young men was Joseph Hooker (picture at left). He was 19. He graduated last year from DeLaSalle.

I got to know Joe very well last year.

I had been invited to participate with a DeLaSalle student in the development of grant guidelines for a discretionary fund to assist central-city groups in combating violent crime. I asked our staff what student I should invite to participate with me. I was given Joe's name.

I talked to Joe about helping me with this project. He was eager to help. He told me that "the streets were crazy", meaning that his neighborhood was troubled and had a great deal of crime.

I took Joe to a half-dozen meetings. I learned about Joe's family. His older brother had just opened a restaurant on Troost. Joe said he worked there when he wasn't in school.

Joe's father was a painter and a minister. I was surprised in one of our meetings when a participant asked Joe if he was the son of this man. Joe answered matter-of-factly that he was. The individual praised Joe's father. Joe acted like it was no big deal. But I could tell how proud Joe was of his father, and of his entire family.

That's why the only part of the newspaper story about Joe's death that made sense to me was that his body was discovered alongside that of his younger brother's body.

Joe's father died last year. Our staff have speculated that this may have precipitated a change in Joe, and that this change may have resulted in some darker developments in Joe's life. None of us know at this time what really happened. But perhaps one lesson we can take from this is the importance of role-models, especially males and fathers, in the lives of our young men.

I tried to c0nnect with Joe in the only when I knew. I found he loved baseball, as do I. I learned that he frequently played the position of a catcher, like I had when I was a teenager. I shared baseball stories with him. He was also so proud of his 1997 Mercury Sable automobile, the one that was torched and found burned out two days before his body was discovered. We talked cars.

But obviously I missed the deeper connection. I did not observe the change that must have developed around the time we were working together.

How did things go so horribly bad for him, barely one year after his graduation from DeLaSalle?

I intend to find out more about this tragic story. I feel somehow responsible. I want to make sure we involve more men as mentors to our young men at DeLaSalle. I believe I owe it to Joe.

Exile? Or, The Best of Both Worlds?

It feels a lot like exile, being apart from my family while living again in Kansas City.

Karol and our three children and three grandchildren are in the cool, mountain climate of Hawaii this evening, while I am in hot Kansas City.

It's not really that bad here. I share a house with two friends, one a priest. We have a chapel on the lower floor with incredible stain glass windows. (See the above picture for one of those windows.) I have lots of time for quiet reflection and prayer.

Of course, that's good, except that I miss Karol and our family.

With the five hour time difference, they are probably now just finished with lunch. I just finished dinner.

I'll call Karol before I go to bed, to hear about her day. I already called her once, and she called me earlier as well.

As an adolescent, I loved the literature of exile. I devoured Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Chekhov and Camus. I experienced a vicarious appreciation for James Joyce's wonderful anti-hero, Stephen Daedalus. I feel like I am in exile now, but not the exile of an adolescence angst.

I feel a deep yearning for the fullness of my family and married life to return.

I'll be here six weeks.

In those six weeks, I'll orient the new DeLaSalle Executive Director, and formally leave my office and the school. I'll set up a new office for my new job with DeLaSalle in this house, and continue to raise money for DeLaSalle. I'll be the new Director of Sustainability. Nice title, hard job. But I'm up to it.

I love raising money.

And I can't wait to see my family.

Until then, I'll pray for them and talk over the phone to them. An exile of sorts, but with an interesting balance and an exposure to two very different worlds. The best of both worlds!

Aloha!

Soon I will be at the Hilo Airport and on my way back to Kansas City, where I will begin my last week as Executive Director of the DeLaSalle Education Center.

I'm looking forward to my return, and beginning work as the new Director of Sustainability on June 14.

My first duty in that new position will be orientating the new DeLaSalle Executive Director, Mark Williamson, to the organization and the community. It will be a busy and exciting time for me and for DeLaSalle!

Clearing the Land

We spent part of the day clearing the area behind our water-catchment system.

Looking Down Lehua Street...

...to the northwest from our house, you can almost see the slope leading to Mauna Kea. One of the distinctive features of this 13,803 foot inactive volcano are the 8 astronomical observatories near its peak. It is a incredible sight on a clear day!

A Walk with a View

On Saturday, my daughter, Liz, invited me for a walk near her home. She pointed out the tremendous views, such as the ocean (in the distance just above the trees, in picture at left).

Behind us on this pleasant walk, were the peaks of Manua Loa and Mauna Kea, both reaching over 13,500 feet in height.

It makes for a wonderful walk, having wonderful company, and extraordinary views.

No Fashion Awards Here...

...but at last I finally made it down from the mountain where our house is located and walked along the sunny, Pacific Ocean today.

You may notice that I am attired in a one-of-a-kind bathing suit acquired from no other than one of Kansas City's famous Target stores!

I was actually dressed to do some "rock surfing", whereby I intended to climb down the cliffs behind me and hold onto the rocks while the ocean waves crashed over me.

I had learned this variant of surfing several years ago when we first vacationed on this rugged island. Today, I thought it would be an exciting way for a transplanted Midwesterner to get re-acquainted with the turbulent Pacific.

However, my children told me several "tropical legends" about "older" folks doing similar antics and getting swept out to sea. Most of these stories ended with my children informing me (with rolling-eye movements) that various clothing items from these "older" folks would turn up days later with sharks' teeth-marks in the clothes (sans bodies).

Moreover, my youngest son, Dave, flatly stated he was not about to have to dive in after me should I be "swept away", in order to save me. My, how things have changed for this "older" father!

Well, that was the end of my one and only ocean-adventure thus far.

Nonetheless, I was humbly content to experience the vibrant ocean spray that exploded all around us, even from the top of the high, rocky cliffs!