Christmas Letter 2011

Merry Christmas to all!

From the life and times of John and Cheryl Downing

I wrote the final chapter of 2010’s Christmas Letter in the early part of December, and noted at the time the promise of change in many areas of our lives, and those promises were certainly fulfilled, as you will soon read.

I reflect on the first Christmas letter I wrote eight years ago… how I committed to writing what life was about; essentially thumbing my nose at a seemingly ‘picture perfect’ Christmas letter I received at the time. If you find this to be the ‘picture perfect’ Christmas letter, then life has gone seriously wrong and I may need medical or psychiatric attention… or intervention!

“It's not that some people have willpower and some don't. It's that some people are ready to change and others are not.”

– James Gordon

Table of Contents

ODOT 1

House for sale 3

Joel & Julia: DHS 3

New Studio 5

Home group, year 2 5

Security at Stephanie’s wedding 6

Book illustration 7

William on the Road 8

ODOT
At the end of 2010, I held high hopes of landing a management position with ODOT. I had two job opportunities to interview for, but only one actually came to pass – the Emerging Small Business Program (ESB) Manager in the Office of Civil Rights. The position drew seven highly qualified contenders to the first round of interviews. They gave me a choice of times: before lunch or after. Well, in my estimation, a full stomach dampens morning memories so I chose the early afternoon to maximize the chance of entertaining a happy panel.

If you’ve read any of my early Christmas letters, you’ll find I ignored many of the ‘signs’ screaming DON’T DO WHAT YOU’RE THINKING TO DO!!! Most of the time, if you read back, I would have successfully avoided injury and trauma if I actually listened to those signs.

Well, some signs came into view when applying and interviewing for the ESB position. The first sign came from an upper level manager who told me to avoid the position like the plague.

“You’re a nice guy, John.” He said. “I’d hate to see you get into a poisonous position like that.”

I heard what he said, but my mind translated it like this: “I have no idea who you are or what you’re like, John, or whatever your name is. That position has problems you probably can’t handle.” To me, this equated to “YAY! A Challenge! Let the game begin!”

Did I ignore warning sign #1? Well, you’ll need to wait and see.

Warning sign #2 came in the form of a tornado! You’d think I’d listen to that one, right? Yeah, not so much…

On the day of the first interview, set for December 14 th , as I made my way north on Interstate 5 toward Salem, I came upon a thick layer of hail blanketing the entire freeway. Cars traveling freeway speeds just seconds before me were planted into guardrails, smashed against the concrete barriers, tangled in chain link fences; airbags fully deployed in every vehicle I passed. Emergency sirens cried through the eerie silence as police and ODOT crews rolled slowly onto the scene.

I slowly slithered through the thin opening between the wrecked vehicles. The ice beads crunched loudly beneath my tires. I looked upon the panic stricken faces, uninjured yet terrifyingly disoriented. My pending interview panel may have been gracious of a delay based on the fact that a tornado just destroyed a small town east of Salem, and that same tornado also caused the freeway to come to a complete standstill. I passed through the only tiny window of time available to me, and I fortunately didn’t have to ask forgiveness. A moment earlier I would have been involved in the wreckage. A moment later, I would have been caught in a traffic jam lasting hours!

The first interview turned out to be such a great time! I thoroughly enjoyed talking through the 11 thought-provoking questions, which they gave me less than 15 minutes to prepare for and 45 minutes to talk through. Good times! I didn’t really know if I would be chosen for round two, but I didn’t really focus on that. I just simply wanted to have fun.

The second interview came without a tornado, chaos, or destruction and it turned out to be even more enjoyable than the first. I got the call offering me the position while sitting at my desk in Springfield, and of course I eagerly accepted the offer. I finally landed a job in management, and now I wear a tie and shiny shoes every day while I walk by the golden statue on top of the state capitol. As strange as it is, I very much enjoy the pubic speaking part of my job, and touring the state delivering good news to the contracting community and ODOT staff. I have the pleasure of delivering good news when the economy really stinks; I get to be the light during dark times. Pretty cool, huh!?

I am, as it turns out, an oddity in the public sector. I can relate to small contractors struggling through difficult times, and if you’ve read the last few years of my Christmas letters you’ll see the truth of the struggles I can relate to. I knew I was accepted by ODOT upper management when, during a meeting with a high-level committee I report to, someone asked why I seem so comfortable in an environment where most people would be very intimidated by people of such authority. Before I had a chance to answer, the person to my left pulled me close and rubbed my bald head! “You’re gonna fit in just fine, John!”

I’m told I have a bright future with ODOT, and as of writing this letter I just temporarily absorbed my recently retired coworker’s duties. I’ve been asked several times if I’m handling the stress okay, but what people don’t realize is the amount of stress I’ve already weathered during the fall of my company. This “stressful time” is actually pretty enjoyable! Yes, I am indeed an oddity in the public sector…

I can’t wait to see what 2012 has in store! I’ve already mentioned I would love a position like Deputy Director, Director, or… ready for this?... Governor! At least let us live in the mansion! That would be pretty sweet.
House for sale
In January we put our house on the market with hopes of moving to Salem where the market dropped quite a bit lower than Corvallis, and we could buy a bigger house for less money. After one offer backed out in March, we haven’t had a single offer since. The excitement and hope to sell has faded, but we will continue to list the house. So, if you know anyone in the market… send them our way!

Joel & Julia: DHS
In 2010 we finally achieved our hope of being certified to adopt through the Department of Human Services (DHS). We put our names on lists for all sorts of little children, and we came close to being presented to a committee for a little girl but it didn’t come to pass. Then, one day in June of this year, Cheryl got a call from our adoption case worker, Sara.

We were brought into DHS to meet Sara and a foster care worker to hear about a unique case about a brother and sister, Joel and Julia, ages 2 and 3. The case we were presented with seemed perfectly fit for our situation! Joel and Julia needed a home immediately, but they were not yet enrolled in the foster system. Presented as being an “open & shut” case, with adoption 95% certain, we accepted the foster care situation and pulled our names off the other children’s lists. Within a few days, Joel and Julia came home with us.

During the two months they were with us, we helped develop Joel’s vocabulary from one word, “BAH” to over 20. He started using about seven regularly, and he ventured away from BAH for the most part. His expressions were priceless, and we carry ‘Joel-isms’ to this day. He loved to be silly and only rarely did he express unhappiness.

The one priceless expression of unhappiness came in the middle of the night when he wanted to sleep on the couch. He wanted the comfort like he did while he suffered through an illness where Cheryl stayed with him in the living room to allow everyone else to sleep. Joel started the night off by gently attempting to get our attention, but it didn’t take long to elevate his frustration level when I put him back in his bed. Every time he’d get out of bed, I would return him while he did his best to burst my eardrums with his screeching fit of tears and drama.

Some might say ‘spank the boy!’ but I towered 4 ½ feet above the stout little dude and figured I would win in the end, so spanking didn’t seem right. Instead, I directed him to his bed with a simple point of a firm finger (not the middle one), and a very parental look that said ‘You better move it, boy!”

His limited vocabulary was compensated by an amazingly high level of comprehension. He clearly understood much of what we said, and in the case of the night in question, I used it to my advantage. Julia, strange enough continued to sleep through the entire dramatic demonstration of will power and stubbornness. Cheryl on the other hand didn’t do so well. Her wonderful heart heard the cries from the gentle child, and longed to relieve him of his woes. I saw it as a battle of wills I refused to lose.

Out of bed; into bed. Out of bed; into bed. This repeated many times, and at the end, as I swung the door just enough where he couldn’t see my face any longer, he jumped out of his bed with a heavy thump on the wooden floor. His typical pitter-patter of little feet suddenly turned into the sound of a crazed, wild miniature rhino! He ran to the door and slammed it hard in a final act of defiance sure to make King Leonidas, Spartan warrior par excellence proud. If he could talk, I’m sure he would have growled through the darkened room “This… is… SPARTA!”

The next morning, everything appeared in order and right with the boy warrior. His soft heart returned and never again did we have a problem like that.

Julia had her own little quirks we came to enjoy, along with more frequent and somewhat destructive acts of defiance that I’d rather not write about. One thing she absolutely loved was going to Zumba fitness classes with Momma Cheryl. Julia would dance and dance and dance! She memorized some of the moves, complete with Cheryl’s body roll (tin man style). I found that she would hold her own Zumba classes in the living room as long as the music played. In her mind, she looked EXACTLY like Cheryl! One thing that made Zumba real… her pony tail! Couldn’t do Zumba without the pony tail… ever!

When DHS finally got their day in court, they lost the battle. I got the call from the foster case worker after 5pm on August 10 th , the eve of our 4 th wedding anniversary. The worker said they negotiated with the courts to let the kids stay one more night with us before giving them back to the mom. We had one final night with them and made it the best night ever, but not bending from the schedule and rules of the house they knew very well.

Cheryl dropped them off to DHS the next morning. Joel knew something was up, and gave Cheryl one last emotional hug that would bring anyone to tears. Contrary to Joel, Julia was eager to head back to the freedom of her mother’s care and basically said “See ya!” What more can be expressed but to say Cheryl had the worst anniversary a woman could imagine.

One thing we introduced the kids to is meal time and night time prayer, which they came to do without fail. So when all is said and done, we can look back and know that we planted a seed in their hearts and pointed them to Jesus… and now that our work is done, we wish them the best in life, confident God’s hand is on them.

New Studio
Just prior to Joel and Julia leaving us, Cheryl came to a crossroads in her contract with the City of Albany Parks & Recreation department. She’d been teaching ballroom and Latin dance classes, and Zumba classes through the City for over five years, and just as seasons change, she had to make a choice to stay and have her income drastically cut or to move into the drama of having a studio of her own.

After some promises were made and broken by someone she trusted, she signed a lease in August and ultimately launched her own studio at the middle of September. The month long chore of turning a warehouse into a dance studio was no small feat! With help from my mom and dad, William, and occasionally a few friends, we tore down an office structure inside the warehouse, demolished and reconstructed a bathroom, laid 2,000 square feet of laminate hardwood floor, hung drapes and even painted the entire place!

I have to give special note to my parents, who became such a crucial part of making our scheduled opening date. Absolutely wonderful, giving, loving, patient and kind! And they brought beer, which is always a plus!

Also, if anyone would think Cheryl is just a pretty face, think again. She’s MUCH more than just a pretty face! She put down about 80% of the floor all by herself! Then, come opening week she had such a huge turnout that we had to add another 1,000 feet of flooring to completely cover the warehouse area. A new business owners dream come true, right!? RIGHT!!!

I love the fact that every time her class cycle starts over, she gets into a panic mode of ‘where’s the money!?’ Well, she may not like the panic mode, but her creativity is sparked and the flow of ingenuity is amazing to witness. I am, after all, her advisor and witness to much of the behind the scenes development of CJ’s Dance. To mark her high level of commitment, I hold photo proof of her personal drive for excellence: In our living room, she launched herself into a new Zumba routine… at MIDNIGHT! She does it for the love of her clients, which makes me very proud of her. I love it!

Home group, year 2
December 2011 marks the completion of our second year of leading and hosting a home church group, which is pretty awesome, really. Most home groups fizzle away after a period of time, but as it turns out the core group has become as close as any family we could hope for. The best part of all is that every week God tells us what to bring up, and I get to watch His work unfold with the notes He gives me. It’s a bit like being the teacher’s pet! No question about who is in “leading” every week – Him, not me… it’s just a great honor to be a part of it.

Security at Stephanie’s wedding
My niece Stephanie got married this summer to a pretty cool guy named Chris. The outdoor wedding took place east of Portland at a picture-perfect setting complete with gazebo and brilliantly green grass surrounded by a wide array of flowers and trees. White seating and beautifully adorned bridesmaids and groomsmen stood at the sides of the happy couple and could certainly make the cover to any wedding magazine. The ceremony itself went pretty quick, and it was good to see Stephanie beaming with joy.

The evening shadows dropped on the festivities and the reception brought the crowd into a large banquet room with gorgeous table settings and a well polished dance floor waiting for the happy couple’s first dance. The traditional toasts brought tears to most of the crowd, and then the night kicked off with food, music, and drinks for all.

You would think the night would be flawless, but if it were it wouldn’t be in my Christmas letter, right? Right!

As the evening moved on and the alcohol made its way into the happy participants, a guy walked into the reception hall with a backpack over his shoulder and a t-shirt displaying a local fire district logo. I passed him by, but made note of his assertive path as he walked to a table to sit down.

At this time, I really thought he simply arrived late and must be one of the hundreds of people I didn’t know. Cheryl asked me to step out to see if my mom was doing alright as my parents made their way to the parking lot to leave, which I did with ninja-like ability. You wouldn’t think a big bald guy could sneak along very well with the dimmest of light shining brightly on a freshly shaved head, but my black blazer helped me blend into the shadows nicely.

After my parental pursuit was satisfied regarding their wellbeing, I made my way back along the shadowed walkway to find a group of Chris’s friends gathered around the guest that arrived late. As they came into focus, I realized the clan did not have the best of intentions for the dude. The guy stammered on about needing his backpack before he left, and it appeared nobody really believed him.

I quickly returned to the reception hall to find the backpack sitting on a chair, just as the guy claimed. I brought the backpack with me as I pressed my way through the increasingly impatient group of young men gathered around the party crasher.

Mustering my well practiced Darth Vader voice and drill sergeant demeanor, I stepped in close to remove the offender from the scene, which startled most of mob. I gently requested (using “The Force”) that Chris depart; advising the well dressed groom to return to his guests, leaving me to take care of our visitor. Begrudgingly, Chris complied along with all but two of his offensive linemen.

I returned the backpack to the guy and “escorted” him toward the gate probably about 100 yards away. The two remaining protectors followed by about 20 feet, which I did appreciate. As I walked with the guy along the dark gravel drive, I engaged him in conversation which quickly revealed two things: 1) He was wasted out of his brain on more than just alcohol. 2) He mourned the loss of a friend who recently took his own life at a nearby river.

Empathizing with him, I returned him to the property entrance and advised him to cross the street to catch a cab at an upscale restaurant. The road home was without a shoulder to walk on and the speeding traffic along the tight corners would most likely prove fatal, although I question his ability to feel anything at that moment.

He made his way across the road and I began walking back with the two gentlemen who followed us. We didn’t say much, but as I reentered the banquet hall, Cheryl said most of the mob referred to me as security: “It’s a good thing security showed up, or I woulda…” blah blah blah.

About half an hour later, when we started driving along that unlit winding road, we found the trespasser walking in the middle of the lanes! Well, maybe he had a death wish, but not by the hood of my vehicle if I could help it! I was satisfied with my good deed for the day, but Cheryl took compassion on the guy and asked me to pick him up.

At this point, doesn’t this have all the makings of a scary movie or a terrible 11 o’clock news report? Yeah, my thought exactly.

But, I suppose not letting the guy turn into a hood ornament would be easier on my conscience than dealing with a potentially dangerous situation, so I turned around and picked him up. Cheryl sat in the back, and I took his backpack away from him to have her hold it. In my mind, I knew exactly what metal object I had available to drive into his intoxicated brain if required. Let’s just say I was on high alert.

Fortunately, Cheryl engaged him in conversations that went all over creation! He laughed. He cried. He mourned the loss of his friend and shared the details of what drew him to the river and kept him past night fall. We dropped him to his house in Portland, and wished him well, and as far as we’re aware, the guy is alive to this day. His stomach, brain and liver are probably taxed heavily, but at least he’s breathing and upright. Whew!

Book illustration
One of my hopes of 2011 came to pass when my new manager connected me with a recently graduated art student in Salem who had yet to find a full time job. I negotiated payment terms with her, and she will start working on the children’s book pretty close to Christmas. The book, which I wrote in 2000, received countless recommendations to get it published, yet most publishers are not accepting work from unknown people like me. So, after meeting someone who successfully self-published a children’s book, and after doing a lot of research to prepare myself, the book entitled “Pickle-itis” is on its way to become a reality with the help of a truly gifted artist, and of course God’s undeniable, and inarguable plan I’ve eagerly said ‘yes’ to. Stand by in 2012! It’s going to be awesome!

William on the Road
In November William passed his driver’s permit knowledge test at the ripe old age of 15 ¾. His first test didn’t fare too well, which is typical for most teenagers, actually. Before he sat for the second test, I used text messaging to help him study. My assistance was not quite orthodox, but very effective as it turns out. I presented the following questions to stimulate his success:

“Ok, I have terrible gas from 3 spicy burritos I really shouldn’t have eaten. I’m on the interstate driving 65mph. If I need a rest stop, what color sign am I looking for? If I can’t make it, and I have to poop in a ditch near a sleeping deer, how many feet do I need to stop before I drop my load in my new boxer briefs?”

“While traveling in an old pickup truck with a hangover, and a dog named Earl… which side of the lane should the yellow line be?”

“If driving through a residential neighborhood, and you accidentally find yourself on a beach… how fast were you going and how fast should you go, now that you’re on the beach?”

“To effectively make faces at people riding the Max train, how far away do you park if there is no line painted on the ground?”

On November 22 nd , he passed his test and drives with me whenever possible. He’s doing a great job, too! His first time out, we drove past nightfall without a single accident or incident outside of normal stuff. Well, he did put the entire passenger side of the car half way onto a sidewalk, but that was my fault with telling him to go right instead of clearly articulating my request for him to stop. All is well, and I look forward to William being my chauffeur for several years to come!

As this year comes to a close, and a new year begins to come into view, we wish all our friends, known and yet-to-be-known, a very merry Christmas!

2012 HERE WE COME!!! WooHoo!!!