301NI? Mailbag

More responses to your letters about Hawaii, the family, and what to do about our blog's name...



Dear 301NIB,

What is church like in Hawaii?

Mellow-D
Provo, UT

For me, church is the same in Laie as it is every else in the world. I sit by myself, try not to make eye contact with anyone, and spend 180 minutes imagining myself at home watching football and eating chocolate covered raisins.

Actually, our first week in our new ward was very interesting. The family that spoke was leaving Hawaii to return to Taiwan. After the meeting many ward members lined up to give hugs and gifts while someone sang 'Aloha, Hawaii' at the pulpit.

There are other intriguing aspects. Our Bishop is a large Mauri from New Zealand. We spend five minutes of opening excercises talking about how the young men did in their high school or junior high sports. Also, lots of young men come to church wearing the lava-lava and sandals. I think it's fascinating that Hawaiians have somehow managed to incorporate many cultural features into church worship, whereas other regions are very Utahn. I have a theory about this...




Dear 301 nights,

Shouldn't you change the name of your site to 301NIH to reflect your new setting?

Mik Rell-im
Helsinki, Finland

This has been a matter of internal debate for several months now. It no longer makes sense to go with 301nightsinbangkok now that we're in Hawaii. On the other hand, the 301NIB brand is now recognized worldwide. From a marketing standpoint, we can't change it now. Can you imagine IBM, Pepsi, or Toyota changing their name? How can we adapt to the changing character of our product without sacrificing brand-name recognition? We may need to call in Senior Project Manager Cluff.

Dear 301NIB,

What do you do for fun in Laie? Still playing "Guess that fan speed?"

Hot Toddy
Elk Grove, CA

You knock the game because you've never tried it. Our market research suggests its the fastest growing fan-based game among Canadian-American families living in Nonthaburi province.

But now that we live IN the ghetto, we gots to LIVE ghetto. So Kaddi and I play a new game called 'Rear Window'. We stare out at our neighbours in the complex and see who can make the most judgemental remarks about what we see. For example..."Oh, looks like Bro. Ma'afala isn't too good to drink Mountain Dew"...or..."Hey! Will somebody get that naked kid off the hood of my car?!"



To Whom it may concern,

How is Kaddi handling the transition to Hawaii? She must be glad not to have to clean up ants all the time.

J. Nielsen
Soi Samakhee 2

Kaddi is very glad to be back in the United States where she has all the conveniences of the modern world. Except that we don't have a car or air-conditioning. She has to walk to a landromat to clean our clothes, and we have a bed the size of a beach towel.

With all the extra expenses of furnishing a new apartment, I put my foot down and refused to purchase a new vacuum, arguing that we could use the vacuums available at the apartment office. Today I attempted to checkout a vacuum only to learn that all but two machines were broken, and they were already checked out. The RA assured me that they had ordered new vacuums. I asked when they would arrive and the girl simply gave me a look that says, "Don't you realize you're in Hawaii now?"

As punishment for not buying a vacuum Kaddi makes me go over the entire apartment with a lint roller.



Dear 301NIB,

I saw those pictures of you playing basketball near the temple. Exactly how far is the temple from your apartment.

Bono
Dublin, Ireland

Kaddi and I had an argument about whether or not the temple was a stone's throw away from our apartment. She said it wasn't. I said it was. I ended up being right.

In a completely unrelated development, someone broke one of the lights outside the visitors center.





Dear 301nightsinbangkok,

Are you Schaefer's roadie now? He tells you to do a 301NIB mailbag and so you do one. Who's running this blog anyway?

Nivea for Joel
Ann Arbor, MI

Hey, the guy's a Rock Star...everyone does what he wants. Did you know that in the Beaver Dam area his t-shirts outsell Mack Strate three-to-one?

The Faculty Townhouses

Just behind the Cinderblock married housing is the faculty townhouses, where many BYUH professors and employees live. It's semi-exclusive. They don't just hand these out to any grad student on a one-year contract. It reminds me a lot of Rideau Court, the housing complex in Lethbridge where we lived when I was five. I used to wander around the parking lot and hit rocks with my aluminum bat.



It's row-housing full of young families thrilled to be living in the most affordable decent housing in Laie, and it's all owned by the University. No matter where you look there are kids running, kids skateboarding, kids with snotty noses, kids with no shoes or pants on. It's a middle-class Mormon ghetto.



But the best part about living in the townhouses is the greenbelt out back. There's a playground and a basketball court with a hoop that lowers down to eight feet. The kids love to go over there at night. Jake loves to ride his skateboard and Meg has taken a shine to playing basketball.

So, in the evenings when it's hot to sit in the house we wander down to the townhouses and play some ball. It feels good to spend some family time outside in the Hawaiian breezes.

It feels even better to dunk on Meg.

The syllabus can prepare itself

Since my plucky little family is handling yet another relocation with such grit and determination, I decided to once again shirk my professional responsibilities in order to take them to the beach. The department graciously provided us with a rental vehicle for this first week, so what else could we do? We had to take advantage of our temporary mobility. We spent the morning enjoying the sand and surf of Waimea Bay on the north shore, where I got to try out the googles I found while painting my father-in-law's bedroom. You just never know what you'll find when you start rummagin around in that house.

A few rocky outcropping provide haven for beautiful tropical fish, some of which I was able to see inbetween periods of blinding myself with salt water (my goggles weren't tight enough).

Tired of elbowing people out of the way for a few cubic inches of room at Passamaquatti state beach? Come to Waimea Bay, where there was lots of open sand.

Did Kaddi hit the marriage jackpot or what? Not only did I take her to Hawaii, I got us free airline tickets. I just might be the best husband in the history of forever.

The day's only complication came when we discovered that Meg's swimsuit had a secret 'crotch-partment'. After an hour of frolicking it became so engorged with sand that it appeared she had filled her swim diaper. This lead to a very awkward attempt (on my part) to discharge the sand and rip out the offensive lining. All of this lead to two slight injuries. Meg experienced substantial chaffing, and Kaddi had sore abdominal muscles from laughing so hard.

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When Jake wasn't trying to ride the bodyboard down the beach into the waves, he found time to kick sand in the face of the locals.

A moment rarely witnessed, let alone captured on film: the march of the lemmings into the sea. National Geographic has already offered me ten thousand dollars for these pictures.

A Lone Man in the Garden

My singles experience ends tomorrow when I drive down to Honolulu to pick Kaddi and the kids up from the airport. I just hope I can find my way back.

A few random thoughts from my first week here in Hawaii:

- The campus here is as beautiful as everyone says The palm trees, manicured lawns, and uniformly beige buildings make it feel like you're working and living in an educational theme park. Happy Fun Learning World.

- Residences here do not have air-conditioning, and so everyone keeps their windows open all the time. This means that, in a married-student complex, you can hear everything going on in every apartment unit all the time. Babies crying, people vacuuming, hairy Tongan guy taking a shower - it's all part of my life's soundtrack. For three straight days I woke up at 7 AM when someone began blasting Gwen Stefani's Wouldn't That be Sweet? I felt like I was trapped in the movie Groundhog Day.

- I love having an office. At the end of every conversation I always close with "Well, better check in at the office." Even when I'm really heading home.

- The Cattle Egret is my new favorite bird. I've never had a favorite bird before. But Oahu has these funny looking white heron-type birds that spend all day striding across the lawns picking up bugs. I'm not sure why a gangly, white, spindly legged, awkward looking birds (with special head feathers that make it look like they have slicked-back hair) would appeal to me, but they do. Psychology is so complicated.

- Laie is a bit of a backwater town, but I've found that starting over fresh in a rural environment has its advantages. With my beard gone, hardly anyone recognizes me. I don't have to be 'on' all the time since very few people here recognize me. I can act like a normal person without having to live up to people's expectations of Mack Strate. The burden of celebrity has been lifted.

The Hawaii Addendum

The Final Hurdle?
Last night I had what I hope will be my last phone conversation with BYU-Hawaii before I leave for the islands. I had an interview with President Wheelwright, who has just taken over this summer, and who wanted to ask me a few questions before my application goes before the Board of Governors who will give final approval of my status as an University Instructor. I found him to be a surprisingly warm and engaging man. He was in the administration at Harvard for many years along with his good friend Kim Clark (now President of BYU-Idaho) and was also President of the London England mission. He mentioned that President Hinckley called him one day and said, "We'd like you to be the next President of BYU-Hawaii. Will you do that?" Bro. Wheelwright was so flustered that he responded "Are you sure?" President Hinckley just laughed and said, "We wouldn't have called you if we weren't sure."


He asked me about my family, past callings, when I would finish my PhD, and gets high marks in my estimation for being the first person to ask the thesis of my dissertation. When he asked what my wife thought of Thailand and now coming to Hawaii. I confessed that she was re-thinking her original decision to marry me - a rather cheeky response when talking with church hierarchy, perhaps. I wanted to know what kind of a reaction I'd get. Thankfully, instead of a fatherly lecture about marriage involving sacrifice and commitment he just laughed and admitted he knew exactly what I meant. On first impression, a very likable and impressive person.

The Beard
Thanks to all of you who sent emails, letters, and flowers encouraging me to grow my beard again. If its any comfort, Kaddi shares your disappointment in my new clean shaven look. It's a little disconcerting to know that she likes my appearance better when one-third of my face is covered by hair. After shaving for my original interview with Elder Jensen I've been trying to re-grow it, but once I arrive in Hawaii I'll have to shave again. I also cut my blonde locks to look more like a BYU instructor. For those of you who keep asking for a picture of the new hairless Mack Strate, I'll post something during my first week in Laie.

The Mailbag
A few answers to queries I've received over the past week...

1) My GA interview was with Elder Jay Jensen of the Seventy. I learned that he has worked for CES most of his life, and taught seminary for years in Mesa Arizona.

2) I found out this week that we will have a two-bedroom apartment on campus. It is located close to the kid's school and is supposedly in a recently constructed building. On the downside, there is very little space and no washer or dryer. Hello, coin-operated laundry. I'm not sure where I'll be living until its available. Do you think the church frowns on people tenting on the temple lawn? (I would turn my door towards the temple just like in King Benjamin's time).

2) I leave for Hawaii Sunday morning (the traditional travel day). BYU-Hawaii paid for the flights of our entire family and even allotted some money for extra baggage. Kaddi and the kids will follow when our apartment is ready in one week.

4) It's a ten month contract. I'll teach fall-winter-spring semester on a 3-4-2 classload. The Chair of the department tells me that next semester I can plan and teach my own Southeast Asian survey course, which would be a very important addition to the CV for next year's job applications.

5) My former professor and mentor Michael Murdock will pick me up from the airport. The department has agreed to provide me with a car for the first week that I am there, and we'll probably rent a car after Kaddi arrives.

The Ultrasound technician said...

...that, beard or no beard, I was hands down the best looking dad she'd seen in all her many years of ultrasound...uh, technicianing. She also told us her reasons for believing that Lee Harvery Oswald acted alone and laid out a very plausible timeline for phasing out the combustible engine over the next three decades.

All of which was nice, but we were more interested in hearing about our baby. We wanted to make sure it was healthy and determine the sex - even though I was sure it was going to be a girl. We've been hoping for a third child for a long time now, for some reason I always felt we'd have another daughter. But when the technician adjusted the resolution and printed out our image...

We saw it was a boy.

I admit I didn't believe it at first. I even questioned the technician to make certain. A brief debate ensued. I made several good points about why our next baby was going to be a girl, but as I looked at the monitor I saw her argument was even bigger.

So, December will bring a baby boy to the Strate's in Hawaii. Jake was a little disappointed. He wanted a little sister just like Janie and Katelyn and Emma. Meg was thrilled because it meant her cousin Isabelle had predicted wrong. Kaddi and I are both very pleased.

Another son.

The Hawaii Admission

At last, here it is...the post containing everything you always wanted to know about our upcoming move to Hawaii, but were too bored to ask.



The Exposition

In February I received an email from the professor I had worked for at Wisconsin-Platteville. She informed me that the department had decided not to hire any adjunct instructors for the upcoming year. Thus, I was out of a job for 2007-2008. For three months I searched job postings and contacted friends in the hopes of finding something new, but to no avail. Then, in May I received an email from a former professor at BYU who had relocated to BYU-Hawaii. He invited me to come to Laie to fill a one-year instructor slot in the history department. After much debate, soul-searching, and a few tears, we decided to accept. It was a difficult decision to give up on returning to our friends in Madison, some of whom have moved on, but most are still there. Since Kaddi and I have been married, Madison has been the only place that ever felt like home.

The Negotiation

We had thought that deciding to move again would be the hardest part, but finalizing the arrangements has been even worse. The time difference between Hawaii and Thailand made communication difficult. We started the process late in the season. I have a feeling the BYUH bureaucracy moves slowly at the best of times, but during the summer I think the entire administration takes a collective siesta. The paperwork requesting a General Authority was submitted too late and missed the July deadline. This meant I couldn't be interviewed until August, which in turn meant that I could not get Board approval until October. Without this approval the department can only offer me a semester contract instead of the one-year contract I had been promised. At one point the administration got word I was not coming at all and gave our housing unit to another family. We leave in less than a week and still don't know where we'll be living.

The Interview

Two weeks after arriving in California I finally received notification that I had been granted an audience. Instead of the free trip to Salt Lake I was hoping for, this would be an interview by satellite. Worst of all, I had to shave my beard - the source of my Mack Strate Mojo. I emerged from the bathroom feeling like freshly shorn spring lamb. Kaddi helped ease my anxiety by laughing hysterically and saying my face looked bald. I put on my suit, drove up to a run-down area of Sacramento and found the Video-conferencing business located in the back of a dilapidated office complex. They seated me at the end of a long table. On the other side of the room were two televisions. One displayed a conference room in Salt Lake. The other showed a tall, slightly awkard-looking, bald-faced white guy that turned out to be me. As I watched myself on the screen I noticed that the camera was at a slight angle, so that even when I sat straight up in the chair, on the TV I appeared to have my head tilted to one side. So while I waited for Elder Jensen to arrive I tried unsuccessfully to adjust my posture so that on the television screen it would look like I was sitting straight up. Finally, I gave up and just tried to appear as normal as possible.

After all that I was in a perfect state of mind for fielding Elder Jensen's first question: What is your testimony of the restored gospel?

The Disclosure

Although we had decided back in June that we would accept the offer to go to Hawaii, we put off telling the kids for as long as possible. After Thailand I didn't have the heart to reveal that they wouldn't be returning to their elementary school in Madison, which they both loved. I felt bad for Jake (who will be in grade five this year) who has already attended three different schools and been homeschooled for a year. A few days ago when I was home with the kids I decided to bite the bullet and explain that I had a new job, which required us to move to Hawaii.

Silence.

I tried to cushion the blow by explaining the Hawaii was a very cool place with warm weather, lots of beaches, places to surf and skateboard, and that I was sure lots of people would come to visit us. No one spoke for what seemed like a long time. Finally Meg said "Well, mom better buy a lot more sunscreen."

There was none of the weeping and wailing that I had expected. Like Kaddi, Jake seems resigned to his fate as a wanderer. When I pressed him for a reaction to the news, all he said was. "I'm not surprised. We move all the time."

So there it is. Season two of 301NIB will take place on the island of Oahu as the Strate's once again spend 301 nights in a new exotic locale. Although the days leading up to our transition seem a little bleak as we all contemplate the unknown, I'm confident things will work out in Hawaii just as well as they did in Thailand.

Well...hopefully a little better than in Thailand.

The River Kwai Restaurant: A Happier Time

In my efforts to cultivate positive memories of Thailand I will periodically be using this blog to project back to happy times during our stay in the kingdom. Since arriving in California I've been searching for Del's pictures of a restaurant on the river Kwai where we ate during our visit to Kanchanaburi. This was no easy task, Kaddi's dad took over 2500 pictures during his ten days abroad. Here are four of the top one thousand.





The restaurant sits on barges floating in the river. When using the restroom you can look down and see the water through the floor planks. This causes one to ponder the question "Where does it go?"



"What do you mean you don't have tater-tots? How about Mexi-fries?"





It didn't even matter that Del and I were the only ones who enjoyed the food, a good time was had by all.

The Archives Story: Part II

As soon as I was outside I realized the chances of my getting those books out of the compound without anyone stopping me were slim at best. What on earth was I doing? My little pink researcher badge would not save me from an irate bureaucrat, policeman, or worse - soldier who thought I was trying to steal the nation's heritage. I decided it would be best to carry the books in front of me, displaying them as ostentatiously as possible. At least then, when I was lying face down on the pavement with my hands behind my head and a rifle in my back, I could claim with some degree of plausability that I thought I was following normal procedure.

One of the great unspoken truths of life is this: when you find yourself in an unnerving situation, if you act like you know exactly what you're doing, people will almost always assume that you do. Once when I was a missionary in Thailand we once found the street to an investigator's house blocked by a police barricade. They allowed no one in or out. I rode as fast as I could on my bike towards the policeman at the checkpoint, took off my black name tag, and flashed it in his face. Seeing that we were both white, dressed in shirts and ties, and seemingly in an incredible hurry (which is always a sign of someone very important) the policeman had to make a quick decision. He had no way of knowing who we were, and I made sure not to allow him time to actually read the nametag. If he stopped us, he would have to explain why and risk the displeasure of someone who was possibly powerful or had powerful friends. So he made the easy choice...he waved us on through.

This experience was proving no different. As I walked swiftly down the sidewalks carrying my precious goods, I attracted little attention. I passed secretaries, Members of Parliament, custodians, drivers waiting near their vans, none of them paid them me any mind. Why should they? I'm sure they were all worried about their own affairs. Why concern themselves with a tall (ruggedly handsome) farang carrying a few meaningless books? The closer I moved towards the gates the more I felt like I probably would get away with it. It was like staging my own little prison break.

But I was still at a loss as to how to explain myself when I was stopped. I ran through a few explanations in my mind, constructing different sentences in Thai, so that I would sound like someone of importance. I did not want get stopped by a soldier and lapse into teen-speak.

"Dude, the lady inside...she said I could like, take these and...copy them, you know...at that store....that makes copies."

But as I walked closer to freedom I became increasingly irritated, almost angry. How could these librarians be so irresponsible as to let me walk out of the premises with such valuable records? They didn't ask for my passport number, accepting my university identification instead (which I could easily get along without). I suppose they could exert some pressure on me through the University of Wisconsin if the transcripts were not returned on time, but what good would that do if I lost or damaged them? They would have no recourse. The next researcher requesting these books would be told a sad story of neglect and informed the documents no longer existed. Did these curators have no concern for their own history? It seemed that I as a researcher cared more about these documents than the people charged with their preservation.

These thoughts caused me to feel a strange combination of fear and relief when I heard someone yelling at me from behind just before I passed the gate.

Turning around I saw a soldier striding towards me with a stern look on his face. I said nothing and waited as he approached. I tried to remain calm, knowing that I could probably explain the situation, and that I was not headed to Parliament jail. But still...this was a Southeast Asian country under dictatorship. As a foreigner, you want to do whatever possible to avoid any type of 'misunderstanding'.

Upon reaching me, the soldier asked if I was leaving the premises. When I acknowledged that I was, he sternly remarked:

"You can't just walk out of here with that. It has to be returned before you leave."

Then he grabbed the plastic research badge off my lapel and began walking back to his post. After standing there completely dumbfounded for several seconds, I turned around and slowly walked out the gates, still carrying the only copies of four irreplaceable books.