FUN Update, June 29, 2007 - Minesweeper

Dear Friends,

"There aren't enough hours in the day." I agree, but I'd like to append: "There aren't enough hours in the day, but there are too many ten-minutes in the day." You know that irritating block of time that's too short for a nap and too long to absorb with a little dawdling? The one between the time you get home and the time your favorite TV show comes on? The one between when you wake up and when your alarm clock will go off? Yeah. There are lots of them.

So I often resort to the packing peanuts of life: windows games. Solitaire is the most common, but minesweeper is a close second. There's plenty to say about solitaire, but for the moment I'm going to dwell on minesweeper. If you haven't played it before, it's a game that begins with a grid of boxes that contain either a bomb or nothing. If you click on a box that contains nothing, it will show a number indicating the number of adjacent bombs. The object of the game is to find all the bombs and mark them.

The first minute or so is pretty easy. If a box has one adjacent bomb and there's only unopened box, it's obviously a bomb. If a box has eight adjacent bombs, then all the surrounding squares are bombs. But sooner or later, all those tricks are exhausted and you get to a point where you have no choice but to guess. And suddenly all your hard work could disappear when you click a bomb and it explodes.

It feels like deja vu. The first nineteen years of my life, despite their complications, were mapped out. Do my homework, make friends, graduate; any bombs that went off were results of my carelessness. Then all the easy decisions were used up, and I had no choice but to guess. Any choice could end up being a bomb. Thankfully, life isn't quite as unforgiving as minesweeper. Making the wrong choice doesn't end the game; but it can mean a lot of hard work wasted and a broken heart to fix.

I learned something from minesweeper. When I first started playing, after reaching that plateau I would sit there and deliberate for minutes at a time. After working on this puzzle for ten minutes, how could I risk it all without proper consideration? But at some point I realized that my consideration never made the decision clearer or easier. The best course of action was to act quickly and decisively. If I chose a bomb, I would start a new game and try again until I succeeded.

Choosing to risk my livelihood to try to become a poke dealer has been anything but a safe bet. At any point the powers that be could have deemed me unworthy, and just that fast I would have been at square one. Even now, a single disaster tonight--our opening night for the VIPs of the poker world--could conceivably leave me broke and jobless. The pressure is great and the stress is high, but I know that all I can do is make decisions quickly and decisively based on all the information I have. If it turns out badly, I'll pick myself up and start again.

And sometimes that decisiveness saves you time and energy. Sometimes it's possible to piece together some of those odd moments and turn those awkward ten-minute doldrums into one more hour in the day. There aren't enough of them, you know.

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See pictures of Leslie, Roxie, and my new house. (Look for the album labeled "Florida.")

View the FUN Archives .

You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. I am in the process of moving, so please don't send letters or packages until I have a new address. My phone number is 231-631-3016.

That's it! Shalom,

Dan

FUN Update, June 20, 2007 -

Dear Friends,

The most interesting thing that has happened to me in the last twenty days was when I hung out with a homeless guy for an hour or so. He was missing a lot of teeth. I went home and brushed mine and stopped just short of singing them a lullaby. Dear Lord, please let me keep my teeth until I'm too old to care.

After auditions, classes continued more or less as usual, albeit with a lot of faces missing. I'm learning a great deal, and (to my never-ending surprise) there is always much more to learn. Becoming a poker dealer is much more involved than I would have guessed. Like any profession that involves thousands of dollars changing hands every couple minutes, there's a lot of pressure to get things right, and to get it right the first time.

Our soft opening, the poker room equivalent of a dress rehearsal, will be on the 29th. All the games will be free of charge, and those invited will be treated to door prizes, free food, and an open bar. Then, two days later, I start work. I've been waiting for July 1st so long that it's like an icon in my mind. After that, the only worry is that, after ninety days, the managers will cut the nine dealers with the lowest performance.

I don't plan on being one of them.

I'm still not sure where I'll be living when I move out on the 30th. God will provide. I often wish He'd print a schedule for my benefit, but where would be the excitement in that? And besides: familiarity breeds contempt. At least this way, I always feel grateful.

I wish I had more to say. My next epistle may not come until after the opening. Until then, may God bless you and keep you.

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See pictures of Leslie, Roxie, and my house. (Look for the album labeled "Florida.")

View the FUN Archives.

You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:

Dan Kaschel
2011 Oakwood Ave
Tampa, FL 33605

My phone number is 231-631-3016.

That's it! Shalom,

Dan

FUN Update, June 5, 2007 - The Milkman in the Sky

Dear Friends,

I wrote a poem entitled "Sunday" that I'd like to share with all of you.

Sunday

Seven o'clock
No car, no cash, no friends
I grab my wallet,
my cell, my sandals.

I walk out the door.
I walk back in.
I grab my keys.
I walk out again.
I lock the door.

On the road at last.

-----------------

Just kidding. I actually just wrote a bunch of short sentences and pretended it was a poem. Anyways, to continue the story, I then walked to Ybor, the Cuban city to the North. Here's a map of my journey. I went to the "Centro Ybor," a fantastic collection of... strip bars. I kid you not: there is a coffee shop, a clothing store, an ice cream shop, and about twelve strip bars, none of which admit patrons under twenty-one. Wait... are my parents on this list? I should probably check...

I stepped into the ice cream and bought a cone. It was wretched. I threw it away and spit on its remains. But you know, that's the wonderful thing about junk food: when you buy it, you either feel great because it tastes good, or because you didn't eat it and you're more healthy for abstaining. It's a win-win situation!

I spotted a hotel and hoped for a piano in the lobby. I checked, but, alas, there was no instruments to be found. By this time I was desperate for some form of entertainment, so I went to the third floor balcony and climbed off the edge, scaling my way down the wall. I had gone about ten feet when I realized that I had amassed a small audience at the entrance of the parking garage. Just for giggles, I pretended to lose my balance and wobbled a bit. There was an audible gasp, and I began laughing so hard that I almost fell for real. When I reached the ground, I turned, bowed, and sprinted off into the night.

The "scene closes" feature on my life is out of repair, so I found that "the night" involved a pair of railroad tracks and the no-man's-land between Ybor and downtown Tampa. I decided that I would walk to the Marriott, which I know has a piano, and I began walking straight to it, which of course involved climbing the occasional fence and/or onramp. It made the journey more interesting.

On the way, there was a toad. This toad was sitting in the road. (This is me, resisting the urge to continue rhyming a la Dr. Seuss.) So: I saw a toad in the road. It was a big toad, probably five or six inches long, and for whatever I reason I took an interest in preserving its life. I walked toward it, but it hopped away. That was logical; of course a toad will hop away from some random human. I jogged around it and stood about six feet in front. It kept hopping. Four feet; two feet; one foot. I swear, if I hadn't moved, it would have run right into me. I could almost here it saying, "out of the way, loser, mind your own business." Suddenly it came to me: this toad wanted to die. It has probably lost its... umm... woman toad... and had come to its wit's end. I saw a car coming my way and moved on. In life, meetings do not always end in resolution.

*Soft piano music; credits roll*

I played at the Marriott for a half hour or so. I walked over to Channelside and checked out all the movies that I had already decided not to see. I walked to the long line of taxi cabs where a group of cab drivers almost hang out and chat about... well, whatever it is that taxi cab drivers talk about. Homeward bound. I walked until I got bored, then ran until I got tired, and generally continued whatever I was doing until boredom or tiredness forced me to alternate action. It was a painful parody of vicious cycles, bouncing between negative extremes to maintain a tolerable equilibrium. I got home, watched the first half of "Superman Returns," and went to bed.

Boring story, I know. I told it because I'd like to offer a snapshot of my life right now. I got hired last Friday. I'm going to be a dealer; I was so relieved I didn't even have room to be excited. And now I have another few weeks of waiting. A few hours of class every day, a few hours of sleep every night, and more time in between than I could possibly fill. This is not a problem I'm accustomed to having. This is not a problem I ever anticipate having again.

I want to take a snapshot because my life is about to change. A told me today about a house that's a steal for $1700 per month. It will be available in August. And I considered it, because by August I could handle it. By August, I'll have hobbies again. I'll have a car, and a life. I'll have less time to pray, though. Less time to read. Less time to think. I'll be too tired to sing at the top of my lungs when Leslie works late; too tired to dance and nervously check the windows to make sure nobody's watching. I don't know if my life is changing too quickly or not quickly enough.

But enough of that: for now, I am determined to survive (monetarily speaking) until I start working on July 1st. That is the problem I currently face, and it is sufficient for today. Maybe it's irreverent, but sometimes I think of God like an old-school milkman, bringing that day's quart of milk. God offers grace in day-sized quantities. Sometimes I wish He gave advances, but who am I to question a system that works?

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See pictures of Leslie, Roxie, and my new house. (Look for the album labeled "Florida.")

View the FUN Archives .

You can contact me by replying to this e-mail. To send letters or packages, use the following address:

Dan Kaschel
2011 Oakwood Ave
Tampa, FL 33605

My phone number is 231-631-3016.

That's it! Shalom,

Dan