Broom Bohs in Photos

Tom, Stacey and I recently joined some Former Jesuit Volunteers and members of the JVC Staff on a local broom ball team. As you might deduce from the photos, the sport of broom ball is an age-old athletic contest with a history that spans the sands of time (or at least the past two weeks once I found out a sport like this even existed). Basically, it's like hockey except you play with a broom-like stick and a soft ball. We are called the Broom Boh's, and we are mighty! (silly, that is)... here are some shots from last night's game (The Boh's put up a valiant fight, but ultimately succumbed to the team in orange by a score of 4-2..we'll get 'em next week!):


That's me, playing the position of "Rover"


There's Stacey, with the ball in her control and the fierce glint of determination in her eye. Notice how much fun I'm having in the background, it's like the ice is tickling my feet and I'm powerless to stop it!


Diana, FJV extraordinaire and fearless captain of the Boh's.


Our boy Tommy, the Boh's defensive stalwart and only player daring enough to wear a red helmet.


Clearly, this is me on the ice after I slipped and fell, but let's just pretend that I had just made a glorious play mid-ice in which I sacrificed both my body and dignity for the greater good of the club. Yea, I think that sounds better.

A Rising Tide

We’re all working towards something. Every day when we get up, we think of places to go and things to do that will bring us closer to our goals and dreams. For the past few months, Mr. Moore and I have been working towards a successful MLK Day Job Fair, a day of service and self-help that has been a neighborhood staple for eight years. Through the bitter cold days standing on the streets registering job-seekers and through the multitude of phone calls Mr. Moore made and received while trying to enlist the services of employers and volunteers, we kept our eyes on the prize- a successful event in which people could get the help they need and deserve.

I left the JVC mid-year retreat in Scranton, PA early on Sunday morning so I could help Mr. Moore set up the gym and so that I could do other last minute preparation work. When I left him that night, Mr. Moore told me to pick him up at 6am the following morning, and then we would head into work from there. Early, yes, but certainly not the earliest I’ve ever woken up for a job.

Well, guess who I got a call from at 4:30am on Monday morning? That’s right, it was the Boss-man calling to tell me that the caterer was at the community center, and that if I could be at his house by 5am, that’d be great. How could I say no?

I discovered that the trick to working a 12-hour day is to always keep moving, and as I soon found out, that would be easy. The first job-seekers showed up at around 10 minutes to 7am, and after a few remarks from Mr. Moore and State Senator Verna Jones (and myself, too!) the day began. The morning consisted of various job-readiness classes during which people could work on their resumes, brush up on interviewing skills, and pick up tips for motivation in the workplace. As I did a sweep of the classrooms, I saw that every chair was taken, and that people were getting the help that they had come for. A few volunteers were even leading a discussion in the middle of the hallway, because there was no more space in the classrooms. The volunteers’ desire to share their expertise with the attendees, as well as the attendees’ willingness to listen, was very impressive.

At noon we served a delicious lunch prepared by one of Mr. Moore’s friends, and his brother. Previously we had decided that another of Mr. Moore’s friends, a musician named Paul Harris, would play some background music to ease the atmosphere of the day. When lunch rolled around, however, Mr. Harris had gotten delayed, so guess who kept the crowd entertained with smooth, halcyon melodies finger picked on a guitar way out of any Jesuit Volunteer’s price range? That’s right, me! I eventually gave way to Mr. Harris’ obviously superior pedigree, but as I finished I could have sworn I heard some applause.

By 1pm, we were ready to literally raise the curtain on the job fair. One of our fears had been that the employers would get smothered by the sheer volume of people looking for a job, but I think we did a good job of creating a line and downplaying any sense of immediacy that one might have had. The job fair stayed busy right up to closing time, and by 4pm, I was directing a group of Johns Hopkins students to roll up the floor clovers.

To me, the day boiled down to one word: productive. Productive for the 400 job seekers who were given opportunities to take a step up. Productive for the employers who were able to find some good people who had just simply been pushed to the side. And productive for the volunteers who made their day “off” and day “on.” I am especially thankful for those volunteers, the ones who showed up early, stayed all day, and were more than willing to do whatever was needed. Mr. Moore started the day off by saying that “We’re all in this together,” and I think the work the volunteers did really exemplified this. Of course, most were looking for any chance to lend a hand to their good friend Mr. Moore, so should I have expected any less?

We’re all working towards something. On January 18, four hundred people got out of bed and took the opportunity to get themselves closer to their goals, hopes and dreams. On Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, good men and good women came together to remember, celebrate and act. At the SFA Community Center, we learned that it is not your success or my success. It is OUR success at stake these days.

We’re all working towards something. WE are all working towards something. And on MLK Day, WE got a little closer.

Random Job Perk

Random Job Perk: I still get to have recess and throw perfect spirals across the gym to a gaggle of 5-7th graders. I mean, these throws are GOOD. You should really see me lead my receivers across the gym floor, working fish hooks and post patterns, threading the needle right at that crucial moment before they are about to fall out of bounds. It’s like the old days on the playground of Olivet Elementary School; I hang around the periphery, hoping against hope that the kids will ask me to play.

Only this time, I’m 22 years old.

With college loans.

Still, the boys (literally, I’m older than these kids by at least 10 years- don’t they realize I can run faster and throw farther than anyone in the gym? Come on, I’m an asset to any team!) ask me to be all-time quarterback occasionally (the term “all-time” simply means I’m QB for both teams, but I like to think it refers to how long I’ll be the greatest). The teams are evenly matched, the game is tightly contested, and when Sister Gabriel says it’s time to line up, my first thought is Come on! 5 more minutes! Still, even if the boys will go home and tell their friends about how Mr. Scott tried to get them to run a fake end-around with three laterals that would net about 2 yards when really he should have just handed it off to Kamari and used that big 22-yr. old body of his to throw a block once in a while, I get to walk out of the gym, head held high, throwing high-fives to students I’ve never met, with the strict belief that I just quarterbacked my team to the biggest win in After-School Program history (if you’re following along, you might notice that since I am quarterback for both teams, I am guaranteed to win every game. Why do you think this is a called a random job perk?).



Oh, to recapture the joy of believing that I am the next Randall Cunningham, or at least Koy Detmer (even if he did have a better beard).



And I’m sure the kids have fun too.