Day 105 (Written Monday March 26) ~ Most people would think going to church all day long would be a violation of the Geneva Convention. More torture than waterboarding at Guantanamo Bay. Even a lot of Christians would have this reaction (judging by attendance at most lectureships, seminars and ladies or mens days). But not for us. Going to church all day, and all night, for a week has been normal for our family for well over a decade now.
The life of a preacher and his family is a little different from most, not better or worse, just different. One of those differences is the frequency with which we are in religious assemblies (VBS, Gospel meetings, lectureships, etc). I remember one July several years ago where our family was literally in some type of church related service every day but four in the month. Some of you are probably contemplating calling the Department of Child Welfare and turning me in for abuse about now, but how many days over the next four months are you going to have your children on a baseball field?
This week we have been at the Memphis School of Preaching lectureship (where I graduated from preaching school). I haven’t been able to attend in about three years, and I have been immediately reminded of why I always loved coming. Today we had lunch with two of our most beloved friends/families and sitting around that huge table with great food, all of our children, stories and laughter, I couldn’t help but think this is what heaven is going to be like. So many friends that I rarely get to see are here. So many great sermons, delivered by very skilled speakers, dealing with topics that really affect my day to day life. Wonderful food. Hyperventilating laughter. Encouragement. Fun. This is our life. Many may not understand it, some might even despise it, but we live by it. Maybe I had so much heathen in me growing up that I need this to keep it out, or maybe I’ve gotten enough of God and His love in my heart now that I just want to be as close to Him as I can for as long as I can, as often as I can. Either way, I’m happy to be here.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Moon Glow To The Martin
Day 104 (Written Sunday March 25) ~ My love affair with movies began a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. When I was about five my grandmother would take me to the Moon Glow Drive In, where I would watch Star Wars while sitting on a paint can in front of her car. I still have a love for the drive in because of Memaw taking me to the Moon Glow. I’m sure my memory has embellished things a little, but I remember how good their concessions were, and I was fascinated that you could hang the speakers on your window and blown away all together when they started tuning in the radio dial to listen through you car speakers. I loved driving by at night and straining to see over the fence to catch a glimpse of the movie. For the first 12 years of my life the only movies I ever saw were at the good old Moon Glow Drive In. The first movie I ever saw there was Star Wars and the last movie I saw there was called House. In between was Footloose, Top Gun, The Empire Strikes Back and a dozen more that I can’t recall just now.
Around the time I turned twelve, I went to my first indoor movie theater. It was the old Crockett Theater in Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. My cousin Clayton and I went to see The Goonies. I was fascinated by the indoor movie theater and did not attend another drive in until I was an adult. Throughout high school we either went to Shadybrook Cinema in Columbia or the new Crockett Theater in Lawrenceburg. I saw Return Of The Jedi and Rocky IV at indoor theaters. There were a few experiments with 3D movies, which I never really liked as a kid, at least after the first five minutes, and still don’t like as an adult.
When I was a student at the Memphis School of Preaching we started going to a very cool drive in here in Memphis. It was a four screen drive in that showed a double feature on every screen. You had eight movies to choose from and it only cost us about ten dollars to get in. We would bring frisbees, footballs and coolers filled with drinks and hot dogs. We would also set up a portable play pen for the kids so they could go to sleep while we watched the movies. Many night Jade and I would sit side by side with our lawn chairs facing in opposite directions as she watched a “chick flick” and I watched something action or sci-fi. I can’t tell you how many times we, and other students would spend a summer night at the drive in. It is still one of my all time favorite theaters.
I was so happy when, a few years ago, Pulaski finally got another movie theater. Many years ago the Sam Davis theater was on the square (long before my time), and then there was the Moon Glow, which shut down when I was 12 (there is a car lot there now, even though the screen is still standing). Finally a little theater was opened on the campus of Martin College. It only has one screen, shows only one movie, and is only open for four showings (Friday night, two Saturday and one Sunday), at least we have a theater again. It is so nice to be able to hop in the car and drive five minutes to the movies and five minutes back when its over. Plus they have really cheap concessions, which is awesome.
Nowadays you mostly just have the megaplexes. Giant theaters that have 24 screens (although five are usually taken up with 2D, 3D, and iMax 3D versions of the latest Harry Potter or Twilight) and zero character and personality. Not to mention the fact that they are so expensive you need to save up for a month to spend a night at the movies. Still, after all these years, there is just something magical about that giant screen, those booming speakers, an auditorium full of people and greasy, buttered popcorn. I guess when I go to the movies, in my heart I still fill like the five year old little boy sitting on a paint can with his Memaw.
Around the time I turned twelve, I went to my first indoor movie theater. It was the old Crockett Theater in Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. My cousin Clayton and I went to see The Goonies. I was fascinated by the indoor movie theater and did not attend another drive in until I was an adult. Throughout high school we either went to Shadybrook Cinema in Columbia or the new Crockett Theater in Lawrenceburg. I saw Return Of The Jedi and Rocky IV at indoor theaters. There were a few experiments with 3D movies, which I never really liked as a kid, at least after the first five minutes, and still don’t like as an adult.
When I was a student at the Memphis School of Preaching we started going to a very cool drive in here in Memphis. It was a four screen drive in that showed a double feature on every screen. You had eight movies to choose from and it only cost us about ten dollars to get in. We would bring frisbees, footballs and coolers filled with drinks and hot dogs. We would also set up a portable play pen for the kids so they could go to sleep while we watched the movies. Many night Jade and I would sit side by side with our lawn chairs facing in opposite directions as she watched a “chick flick” and I watched something action or sci-fi. I can’t tell you how many times we, and other students would spend a summer night at the drive in. It is still one of my all time favorite theaters.
I was so happy when, a few years ago, Pulaski finally got another movie theater. Many years ago the Sam Davis theater was on the square (long before my time), and then there was the Moon Glow, which shut down when I was 12 (there is a car lot there now, even though the screen is still standing). Finally a little theater was opened on the campus of Martin College. It only has one screen, shows only one movie, and is only open for four showings (Friday night, two Saturday and one Sunday), at least we have a theater again. It is so nice to be able to hop in the car and drive five minutes to the movies and five minutes back when its over. Plus they have really cheap concessions, which is awesome.
Nowadays you mostly just have the megaplexes. Giant theaters that have 24 screens (although five are usually taken up with 2D, 3D, and iMax 3D versions of the latest Harry Potter or Twilight) and zero character and personality. Not to mention the fact that they are so expensive you need to save up for a month to spend a night at the movies. Still, after all these years, there is just something magical about that giant screen, those booming speakers, an auditorium full of people and greasy, buttered popcorn. I guess when I go to the movies, in my heart I still fill like the five year old little boy sitting on a paint can with his Memaw.
Monday, March 26, 2012
A Cowboy Hat Don't Make You Country
36, Day 103 (Written Saturday March 24) ~ I hate country music. However, it hasn't always been this way. In fact, maybe I should correct that statement. I love country music, real country music, but what is played on country radio today isn't country music, and I hate that. I could count on one hand and have fingers left over, the acts in country music that are actually country. I've known for a long time that I hate modern country music, but I didn't put it all together until earlier this week when I spent an afternoon in Nashville (on Broadway) and toured the Ryman. Every other person I encountered was a tourist who had obviously just bought a brand new pair of boots and a nice, big, new cowboy hat. They wanted to look the part of Nashville. I've got no problem with that, but standing backstage, in the dressing rooms and onstage at the Ryman, contemplating the history of country music, it dawned on me that most of today's country music performers are tourists. Posers in cowboy hats and boots singing pop music.
I'm not going to go through a long list of artists and songs that illustrate what I mean, but I will cite one example of what's wrong with country and one artist who embodies what I'm talking about. The majority of songs on country radio today are caricatures of southern life. From listening to country radio you would think that all we do in the south is spend the day fencing and plowing, then head down by the river to knock back some cold ones, watch the farmers daughter dance on the hood of a pickup in cut offs and a tied up shirt, before getting in a fight. Rinse. Repeat. I'm not going to say those things don't ever happen down here, but to hear country music you would think this is what life in the south is like. It's not.
When I think of real country, I think of old country. The songs weren't steeped in fantasy, but based in reality. Patsy Cline, George Jones, Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette, Hank Williams and Johnny Cash, wrote songs that they had lived. Admittedly, the content of the songs wasn't always positive, but it was always real. I can't relate to the lyrics of country songs today because they are a stereotypical, fantasy version of life that isn't reality. I know the people being sung about in those old country songs. I worked with them, I'm related to them, and in some cases, I am them. That's what makes a good country song, something I can relate to and feel.
There are a few modern country singers/songs that I think fit the mold of old country. Although I don't endorse the message of all of these songs, they affect you emotionally because of their realism. They have the ability to break your heart, even if you haven't personally experienced them. Gretchen Wilson's "When I Think About Cheating" (I just think about you leaving) is old school country at its best. Lee Ann Womack's "I May Hate Myself In The Morning" reminds me of a number of sad people who keep looking for love in all the wrong places. Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss singing "Whiskey Lullaby" breaks my heart every time I hear it. It very well may be the most old country song of the new country era.
Let me close with this. Taylor Swift is not country. They may play her on country radio and sell her albums in the country section, but she ain't country. I didn't say she isn't talented. I think she's a great songwriter, a decent performer, and average (at best) singer, but she is brilliantly marketed. She is promoted as the all American girl next door. Sweet and innocent. She could never successfully compete with the provocative pop princesses like Britny, Christina, Katy, Ga Ga and Rhianna, so her handlers put her in cowboy boots and promoted her as country, but at the end of the day she is pop because a cowboy hat don't make you country.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Lights, Camera, Action
36, Day 102 (Written Friday March 23) ~ Apparently I look like a weather man, at least according to my good friend's ten year old son. I'm not sure if that is a compliment, a criticism, or just a fact. Regardless of which, today was a great day, which capped off a great week. I got to spend most of Monday and several hours today at the East Hill Church of Christ with Robert Hatfield and Paul Sain. If you don't know, the two of them film, edit and produce about 5 television programs personally. Great preachers like David Sain, James Watkins, Cliff Goodwin, Tom Holland, and Paul and Robert themselves, record their television programs at studios located at Sain Publications. The quality of these shows is fantastic, professional.
Because of the previously mentioned facts, when our Latin American Missions staff decided we needed a video to introduce and explain our campaigns, Paul and Robert were the first two I contacted. Despite their very busy schedules, they were more than willing to help me with the taping of a campaign description video. We shot all the footage and recorded the narration on Monday and then got together today to finish the editing and production. By lunch we had a video that was ready to send out to the world. Many, many thanks go out to the East Hill guys for invaluable input, assistance, time, talent and vision. They took an idea that was in my head and turned it into an amazing video detailing the work. Thank you both again. I want to ask you to take 5 minutes to watch the video and let me know what you think. There is a link below. If this missionary thing doesn't work out, at least I may have a future in the tv weatherman field.
https://vimeo.com/39103833
Because of the previously mentioned facts, when our Latin American Missions staff decided we needed a video to introduce and explain our campaigns, Paul and Robert were the first two I contacted. Despite their very busy schedules, they were more than willing to help me with the taping of a campaign description video. We shot all the footage and recorded the narration on Monday and then got together today to finish the editing and production. By lunch we had a video that was ready to send out to the world. Many, many thanks go out to the East Hill guys for invaluable input, assistance, time, talent and vision. They took an idea that was in my head and turned it into an amazing video detailing the work. Thank you both again. I want to ask you to take 5 minutes to watch the video and let me know what you think. There is a link below. If this missionary thing doesn't work out, at least I may have a future in the tv weatherman field.
https://vimeo.com/39103833
Midnight Madness
36, Day 101 (Written Thursday March 22) ~ When I was younger staying up all night was a challenge and it was exciting. When you are young you think magical things begin to happen after midnight, but the truth is it’s just quieter since most people with any sense are asleep. When Jade and I first got married it was quite common for us to stay up until well after midnight watching tv or visiting with friends. With each passing year my willingness and ability to stay up late seem to be in a race to nonexistence. There are, however, a few rare exceptions.
I’m not exactly sure when it began, but the midnight release of movies and products seems to be a relatively new practice. The first time I can remember participating in a midnight madness event was for the release of Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge Of The Sith. I grew up loving everything Star Wars and passed this on to my boys. I had been waiting since I was ten years old to see Anakin Skywalker become Darth Vader and I couldn’t wait one minute longer. So the boys and I went to the midnight showing. There was such a buzz in the air as people my age and older, along with their kids, shared in the culmination of something that had been such a big part of our childhood. The anticipation was what made it so fun, along with sharing it with the people closest to me. Of course it didn’t hurt getting to watch all of the people dress up as their favorite Star Wars characters, that’s where I draw the line. Once the movie ended, we made our way back home in the early morning hours. I survived, but doubted I would ever do something like that again. Wrong.
A couple of years later I took a group of teenagers from church with me to a VBS I was teaching in Smyrna. This was also the same night that the latest Harry Potter movie came out. We had made a plan, they go with me to VBS, I take them to the midnight premiere of Harry Potter. You need a little back story to understand a few things about this. I am not a fan of Harry Potter. It’s just not my thing. Basically every kid in the youth group lived for it (I guess it was their Star Wars). I have never read the books (and refuse to, again, just not my thing) and resisted seeing the movies. I tried to watch the first one three times before I made it through without falling asleep. The youth group convinced me one weekend to have a marathon with them and watch all five movies on DVD. We did this about two weeks before the 6th was released at midnight. If the Star Wars people are geeks/nerds, the Harry Potter people are straight up freaks. I have never seen so many people dressed up in my life. It was like weirdo Halloween. My greatest moment of fun came, when standing in this massively long line, I asked the person in front of us if this was the line to see Happy Feet? I thought it was funny, they did not. Also, I loudly approached random people in fully Harry Potter regalia if they were up for a quidditch match. No one was amused, well no one but me. The worst part of sitting through a Harry Potter movie that began at midnight was the fact it was two hours and forty-five minutes long!!! I literally got home at 5:00 am, and of course, everyone in the car slept the whole way home.
My next midnight madness experience actually came this past year. My family spent the night at the Bridge Street Mall in Huntsville waiting to get an iPhone 4s. Kase is a card carrying member of the cult of Mac. If it is apple related, he loves it and knows all about it. I wanted to get an iPhone (my first), but I wasn’t in a big hurry. Somehow, Po convinced me to spend the night. It was a long, cold night with those kinds of people who know everything there is to know about this new product and loudly talk to everyone around about how knowledgeable they are (rolls eyes). Finally, a little after 6 we were allowed to enter the store, buy the phone and then get on with playing with our new phones. Jade went too, but she spent most of the night in the van sleeping.
This past Thanksgiving marked my first midnight madness, Black Friday, day after Thanksgiving experiences. I have gone a few times at 4:00 am to get Christmas presents for the boys when they were little, and once for a HDTV, but never at midnight. The good news is, I just went for the atmosphere and to witness the insanity (there wasn’t anything I was there to get). I mainly just hung out and listened to the experts on all the Black Friday deals, as they pontificated about their strategies and deals they were able to snag. Also, I was amused at those who actually ran interference by spreading false information about products to run off the competition. I put on my headphones, stayed out of the way of the crazies and laughed to myself at this display of greed and urgency induced frenzy.
This brings me to tonight. This is my most recent midnight madness experience, and has so far been my best. On our last long trip, Kase and I bought and listened to the audiobook of The Hunger Games. I loved it, he loved it and found out the movie was coming out at midnight at The Martin theater in Pulaski. Since the boys washed their moms car, I told them I would take them. They went early and bought the tickets and saved the seats, and I fell asleep on the couch at home. I did wake up at 11:15, hop in the car and made the five minute drive to the theater, walked in, took my seat and enjoyed the next two and a half hours. It was fun seeing half of Pulaski fill the theater, both young and old. The movie was good, not nearly as good as the book (but what movies ever are?), and the best part was the five minute ride home to my wonderful bed.
I can tell that my midnight madness experiences are getting more and more rare. I doubt this was the last one, but I’m getting too old for this, unless the circumstances are just right. Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to take a nap.
I’m not exactly sure when it began, but the midnight release of movies and products seems to be a relatively new practice. The first time I can remember participating in a midnight madness event was for the release of Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge Of The Sith. I grew up loving everything Star Wars and passed this on to my boys. I had been waiting since I was ten years old to see Anakin Skywalker become Darth Vader and I couldn’t wait one minute longer. So the boys and I went to the midnight showing. There was such a buzz in the air as people my age and older, along with their kids, shared in the culmination of something that had been such a big part of our childhood. The anticipation was what made it so fun, along with sharing it with the people closest to me. Of course it didn’t hurt getting to watch all of the people dress up as their favorite Star Wars characters, that’s where I draw the line. Once the movie ended, we made our way back home in the early morning hours. I survived, but doubted I would ever do something like that again. Wrong.
A couple of years later I took a group of teenagers from church with me to a VBS I was teaching in Smyrna. This was also the same night that the latest Harry Potter movie came out. We had made a plan, they go with me to VBS, I take them to the midnight premiere of Harry Potter. You need a little back story to understand a few things about this. I am not a fan of Harry Potter. It’s just not my thing. Basically every kid in the youth group lived for it (I guess it was their Star Wars). I have never read the books (and refuse to, again, just not my thing) and resisted seeing the movies. I tried to watch the first one three times before I made it through without falling asleep. The youth group convinced me one weekend to have a marathon with them and watch all five movies on DVD. We did this about two weeks before the 6th was released at midnight. If the Star Wars people are geeks/nerds, the Harry Potter people are straight up freaks. I have never seen so many people dressed up in my life. It was like weirdo Halloween. My greatest moment of fun came, when standing in this massively long line, I asked the person in front of us if this was the line to see Happy Feet? I thought it was funny, they did not. Also, I loudly approached random people in fully Harry Potter regalia if they were up for a quidditch match. No one was amused, well no one but me. The worst part of sitting through a Harry Potter movie that began at midnight was the fact it was two hours and forty-five minutes long!!! I literally got home at 5:00 am, and of course, everyone in the car slept the whole way home.
My next midnight madness experience actually came this past year. My family spent the night at the Bridge Street Mall in Huntsville waiting to get an iPhone 4s. Kase is a card carrying member of the cult of Mac. If it is apple related, he loves it and knows all about it. I wanted to get an iPhone (my first), but I wasn’t in a big hurry. Somehow, Po convinced me to spend the night. It was a long, cold night with those kinds of people who know everything there is to know about this new product and loudly talk to everyone around about how knowledgeable they are (rolls eyes). Finally, a little after 6 we were allowed to enter the store, buy the phone and then get on with playing with our new phones. Jade went too, but she spent most of the night in the van sleeping.
This past Thanksgiving marked my first midnight madness, Black Friday, day after Thanksgiving experiences. I have gone a few times at 4:00 am to get Christmas presents for the boys when they were little, and once for a HDTV, but never at midnight. The good news is, I just went for the atmosphere and to witness the insanity (there wasn’t anything I was there to get). I mainly just hung out and listened to the experts on all the Black Friday deals, as they pontificated about their strategies and deals they were able to snag. Also, I was amused at those who actually ran interference by spreading false information about products to run off the competition. I put on my headphones, stayed out of the way of the crazies and laughed to myself at this display of greed and urgency induced frenzy.
This brings me to tonight. This is my most recent midnight madness experience, and has so far been my best. On our last long trip, Kase and I bought and listened to the audiobook of The Hunger Games. I loved it, he loved it and found out the movie was coming out at midnight at The Martin theater in Pulaski. Since the boys washed their moms car, I told them I would take them. They went early and bought the tickets and saved the seats, and I fell asleep on the couch at home. I did wake up at 11:15, hop in the car and made the five minute drive to the theater, walked in, took my seat and enjoyed the next two and a half hours. It was fun seeing half of Pulaski fill the theater, both young and old. The movie was good, not nearly as good as the book (but what movies ever are?), and the best part was the five minute ride home to my wonderful bed.
I can tell that my midnight madness experiences are getting more and more rare. I doubt this was the last one, but I’m getting too old for this, unless the circumstances are just right. Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to take a nap.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Junk Food
Day 99 (Written Tuesday March 20) ~I have never eaten a Twinkie. Never. Ever. Not once. Not even a bite. There is no good reason for this. I am not opposed to Twinkies. I don’t have a bad Twinkie experience story to tell (although I do have a hilarious giant Twinkie story to tell you someday). The Twinkie is probably the national junkfood icon of America, but I’ve never tried one. I have, however, tried a number of others that I struggle with as a borderline addiction (which I’ve gotten under control and am 11 pounds lighter to prove it). I really don’t like traditional candy (Nerds, Laffy Taffy, Sweet Tarts, etc), but I am a junkie when it comes to chocolate. Here are some of my greatest weaknesses.
Little Debbies: Fudge Rounds/Swiss Cake Rolls (tied for favorite), Nutty Buddy, Zebra Cakes, Cosmic Brownie, Star Crunch, Oatmeal Cream Pie. Anything else I won’t touch. I have to really be careful with Fudge Rounds because I will literally eat an entire box in one day, which is not a good thing, at least since I’m not 15 anymore with a metabolism that can support such binges. I’ve loved Fudge Rounds since I was a little kid and my Memaw would bring them along with a bottle coke when she picked me up from kindergarten. I’ve been hooked ever since.
My sweet tooth also has a few oddities in its history as well. I have been known to eat spoonfuls of Nestle Quick powder, handfuls of chocolate chips, chased with peanut butter, Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie dough, and perhaps my rock bottom moment....a can of Duncan Hines chocolate frosting. I feel so ashamed. But admitting the problem is the first step to recovery, right?
In the more traditional range is chocolate milkshakes, chocolate milk, Shoney’s hot fudge cake, Wal Mart brand cookies and cream ice cream and basically any cheesecake anywhere, but especially the sampler cheesecake from Wal Mart and the Pecan/Cinnamon/Graham crust cheesecake with chocolate sauce and real whip cream from Square Market in Columbia. What are your sweet weaknesses? I’ll be snacking on this Twinkie while I await your replies.
Little Debbies: Fudge Rounds/Swiss Cake Rolls (tied for favorite), Nutty Buddy, Zebra Cakes, Cosmic Brownie, Star Crunch, Oatmeal Cream Pie. Anything else I won’t touch. I have to really be careful with Fudge Rounds because I will literally eat an entire box in one day, which is not a good thing, at least since I’m not 15 anymore with a metabolism that can support such binges. I’ve loved Fudge Rounds since I was a little kid and my Memaw would bring them along with a bottle coke when she picked me up from kindergarten. I’ve been hooked ever since.
My sweet tooth also has a few oddities in its history as well. I have been known to eat spoonfuls of Nestle Quick powder, handfuls of chocolate chips, chased with peanut butter, Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie dough, and perhaps my rock bottom moment....a can of Duncan Hines chocolate frosting. I feel so ashamed. But admitting the problem is the first step to recovery, right?
In the more traditional range is chocolate milkshakes, chocolate milk, Shoney’s hot fudge cake, Wal Mart brand cookies and cream ice cream and basically any cheesecake anywhere, but especially the sampler cheesecake from Wal Mart and the Pecan/Cinnamon/Graham crust cheesecake with chocolate sauce and real whip cream from Square Market in Columbia. What are your sweet weaknesses? I’ll be snacking on this Twinkie while I await your replies.
The Century Mark!
Day 100 (Written Wednesday March 21) ~ When I started this venture back in December I had a lofty goal (at least for me) of posting a blog every day for a year. Today is my first milestone as it marks 100 days that I’ve been 36 and, more importantly, 100 days that I’ve posted on my blog.
This experience has been good for me, as it has provided an outlet for the things that bounce around my head. I’ve learned somethings about myself that I didn’t realize and I remembered some things that had long been forgotten. I’ve also been pleased to know that other can benefit from it as well. I have tried to post with brutal honesty, only editing my comments once (because a loved one told me I was being cocky and provoking, which was not the point of the post). The blogs that have helped me the most are the ones that tell the truth, so I’ve tried to replicate that. I like things that are real and I think most people do.
To those of you who have been reading, thank you. When I started doing this I didn’t know if anyone would care enough to read at all and I have been so grateful to know that you do. It hasn’t always been easy, and sometimes I’ve struggled to come up with things to talk about, but its always been rewarding. Here’s to the next 100.
This experience has been good for me, as it has provided an outlet for the things that bounce around my head. I’ve learned somethings about myself that I didn’t realize and I remembered some things that had long been forgotten. I’ve also been pleased to know that other can benefit from it as well. I have tried to post with brutal honesty, only editing my comments once (because a loved one told me I was being cocky and provoking, which was not the point of the post). The blogs that have helped me the most are the ones that tell the truth, so I’ve tried to replicate that. I like things that are real and I think most people do.
To those of you who have been reading, thank you. When I started doing this I didn’t know if anyone would care enough to read at all and I have been so grateful to know that you do. It hasn’t always been easy, and sometimes I’ve struggled to come up with things to talk about, but its always been rewarding. Here’s to the next 100.
How I Roll
Day 98 (Written Monday March 19) ~ They say we Americans have a love affair with our cars, and I pretty much agree. We often own multiple cars, live out of them, name them and like to show them off. Next to our homes, they are usually our second largest investment. Most of us remember with great fondness and nostalgia, our first car.
For me it was a 1986 Chevy Blazer and it was awesome! It was black with silver down the side and the word “Blazer” written down the sides. I bought it when I was 15 and spent all of my money on the sound system (two 15 inch Kicker Contenders in a Stillwater Box, pushed by a 500 watt Lanzar amp). It would go boom, which in the early 90’s was a very important status symbol. I kept that car until I was 17 and, like a complete idiot, sold it to a co-worker at Johnson’s Foodtown because I wanted to quit my job. I still wish I had that car today. Man I wish I had that car back.
My next car was a hand me down. My grandfather had bought a 1984 Blue Ford Ranger with a homemade sunroof (no joke). It was my first stick shift and I got it because I needed a ride and my grandfather had sold it to my dad as a vehicle to haul things around in. It wasn’t anything special, but my friends all loved it. Especially the homemade sunroof that had been sealed shut with glue to keep it from leaking. Jade and I actually drove away from our wedding in the “Rescue Ranger.”
A little while later my dad bought a new car, so I got his old one, a white 1990 Pontiac Grand Prix. This was the car I would drive to college and bring Reese home from the hospital in when he was born. During this time Jade and I got married and I became the owner of a Pontiac Le Mans hatchback that belonged to Jade when we were dating. This car went with me to Memphis, but didn’t return with me. It died on the side of Interstate 40 just outside of Memphis, and was laid to rest in a field behind Bill Hannah’s house, where it still resides today.
While in preaching school, an expanding family and increased travel (along with a water pump going out and leading to an overheated motor), necessitated the purchase of my first minivan. It was a blue Plymouth Voyager that we drove who knows how many thousand miles all over the country and then back to Pulaski when we finished preaching school.
Our beloved van was traded in for a tan 1992 Mercury Grand Marquis from Steve Williams Ford in Lawrenceburg. This purchase was made in 2001, but this car was nice. It probably is still the nicest car I’ve ever owned. Despite being almost a decade old, with the exception of the new car smell, it was essentially a new car. It was a one owner, little old lady who kept it in a garage and only drove it to church, the grocery store and to pick up her granddaughter at school. It had less than 10,000 miles and was in perfect condition. It was loaded with every extra you could imagine. It was a “grandpa” car but it drove so smooth. I sold it a few months ago for a whopping $200.00, mainly because none of us believed it could be driven safely to Valdosta, Georgia. Needless to say, it was not in the pristine condition we received it in anymore. The paint was peeling, it had multiple leaks that filled the floorboards with water, the roof lining was falling off, only one window rolled down, the auto door on the gas cap wouldn’t close, the keypad lock didn’t work, and the air conditioner would only work for about ten minutes at a time, it had four mismatched, different sized tires and I had to keep a gallon of oil in the truck to add every couple of weeks. Jade refused to even ride in it, much less drive it. Oh, yeah, did I mention that there was a super tricky way you had to start it that only I could perform. I literally had to teach the guy who bought it how to perform the trick. And just in case you are wondering, yes I did fully disclose all of this to him before selling it to him. He just needed a car to get him around town and to work (which is all I used it for), and it fulfilled this faithfully. Here are the positives: it got me around town with no problems, it had a great stereo and the cruise control worked great.
Somewhere during this time, my parents got another vehicle and once again I found myself enjoying their hand me down, a mid 90’s tan Pontiac Bonneville. This is probably my favorite car (aside from my first), that I have ever owned. I loved the look of the car, how it “sat” on the road and handled. I loved this car (my mom says it was her favorite too). I got in a pinch for money a few years later and sold it on Swap and Shop.
Our next ride was a 1997 Green Pontiac Trans Port minivan that we bought from friends. We were traveling a lot again and felt we needed a second vehicle and one that could make traveling more comfortable. We also loved that it had two side doors in the back as well. We took it to Michigan, Indiana, south Florida, all over. Then tragically, one night while driving to Fayetteville to preach a gospel meeting at the Wells Hill congregation, having just passed through Frankewing, everything went crazy. Lights and bells started going off, the van lost speed and limped to the side of the road. The oil pump had gone out and the engine locked up. It was D.O.A.
We then bought our most recent vehicle, a green 2001 Chrysler Town and Country minivan. It was fancy, having remote doors and trunk opening/closing, driver/passenger and rear control heating and air. We have put a lot of miles on this van and have driven it everywhere. This van lives for the interstate. Best of all, it’s paid for.
These are the vehicles I have owned in my life. Reese has a white Ford Ranger that he bought when he was 14 and is driving now, but that is his. He paid cash for it. The funny thing about it, with all of these cars I’ve owned, I have never owned a new car, and I probably never will. I’m just not a car guy. What was your first car, or which one was your favorite?
For me it was a 1986 Chevy Blazer and it was awesome! It was black with silver down the side and the word “Blazer” written down the sides. I bought it when I was 15 and spent all of my money on the sound system (two 15 inch Kicker Contenders in a Stillwater Box, pushed by a 500 watt Lanzar amp). It would go boom, which in the early 90’s was a very important status symbol. I kept that car until I was 17 and, like a complete idiot, sold it to a co-worker at Johnson’s Foodtown because I wanted to quit my job. I still wish I had that car today. Man I wish I had that car back.
My next car was a hand me down. My grandfather had bought a 1984 Blue Ford Ranger with a homemade sunroof (no joke). It was my first stick shift and I got it because I needed a ride and my grandfather had sold it to my dad as a vehicle to haul things around in. It wasn’t anything special, but my friends all loved it. Especially the homemade sunroof that had been sealed shut with glue to keep it from leaking. Jade and I actually drove away from our wedding in the “Rescue Ranger.”
A little while later my dad bought a new car, so I got his old one, a white 1990 Pontiac Grand Prix. This was the car I would drive to college and bring Reese home from the hospital in when he was born. During this time Jade and I got married and I became the owner of a Pontiac Le Mans hatchback that belonged to Jade when we were dating. This car went with me to Memphis, but didn’t return with me. It died on the side of Interstate 40 just outside of Memphis, and was laid to rest in a field behind Bill Hannah’s house, where it still resides today.
While in preaching school, an expanding family and increased travel (along with a water pump going out and leading to an overheated motor), necessitated the purchase of my first minivan. It was a blue Plymouth Voyager that we drove who knows how many thousand miles all over the country and then back to Pulaski when we finished preaching school.
Our beloved van was traded in for a tan 1992 Mercury Grand Marquis from Steve Williams Ford in Lawrenceburg. This purchase was made in 2001, but this car was nice. It probably is still the nicest car I’ve ever owned. Despite being almost a decade old, with the exception of the new car smell, it was essentially a new car. It was a one owner, little old lady who kept it in a garage and only drove it to church, the grocery store and to pick up her granddaughter at school. It had less than 10,000 miles and was in perfect condition. It was loaded with every extra you could imagine. It was a “grandpa” car but it drove so smooth. I sold it a few months ago for a whopping $200.00, mainly because none of us believed it could be driven safely to Valdosta, Georgia. Needless to say, it was not in the pristine condition we received it in anymore. The paint was peeling, it had multiple leaks that filled the floorboards with water, the roof lining was falling off, only one window rolled down, the auto door on the gas cap wouldn’t close, the keypad lock didn’t work, and the air conditioner would only work for about ten minutes at a time, it had four mismatched, different sized tires and I had to keep a gallon of oil in the truck to add every couple of weeks. Jade refused to even ride in it, much less drive it. Oh, yeah, did I mention that there was a super tricky way you had to start it that only I could perform. I literally had to teach the guy who bought it how to perform the trick. And just in case you are wondering, yes I did fully disclose all of this to him before selling it to him. He just needed a car to get him around town and to work (which is all I used it for), and it fulfilled this faithfully. Here are the positives: it got me around town with no problems, it had a great stereo and the cruise control worked great.
Somewhere during this time, my parents got another vehicle and once again I found myself enjoying their hand me down, a mid 90’s tan Pontiac Bonneville. This is probably my favorite car (aside from my first), that I have ever owned. I loved the look of the car, how it “sat” on the road and handled. I loved this car (my mom says it was her favorite too). I got in a pinch for money a few years later and sold it on Swap and Shop.
Our next ride was a 1997 Green Pontiac Trans Port minivan that we bought from friends. We were traveling a lot again and felt we needed a second vehicle and one that could make traveling more comfortable. We also loved that it had two side doors in the back as well. We took it to Michigan, Indiana, south Florida, all over. Then tragically, one night while driving to Fayetteville to preach a gospel meeting at the Wells Hill congregation, having just passed through Frankewing, everything went crazy. Lights and bells started going off, the van lost speed and limped to the side of the road. The oil pump had gone out and the engine locked up. It was D.O.A.
We then bought our most recent vehicle, a green 2001 Chrysler Town and Country minivan. It was fancy, having remote doors and trunk opening/closing, driver/passenger and rear control heating and air. We have put a lot of miles on this van and have driven it everywhere. This van lives for the interstate. Best of all, it’s paid for.
These are the vehicles I have owned in my life. Reese has a white Ford Ranger that he bought when he was 14 and is driving now, but that is his. He paid cash for it. The funny thing about it, with all of these cars I’ve owned, I have never owned a new car, and I probably never will. I’m just not a car guy. What was your first car, or which one was your favorite?
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Songs I Cannot Sing (Volume 3): Forever Young
36, Day 97 (Written Sunday March 18) ~ Bob Dylan writes some of the most powerful, memorable and true songs ever recorded, but listening to him sing them is almost unbearable. Fortunately, a lot of very talented singers have taken his lyrics and transformed them into memorable and moving songs to listen to. My favorite of all of those is his song "Forever Young." (not to be confused with Rod Stewart's song of the same title). I don't care for Bob Dylans version at all. My favorite version is done by brothers Chris and Rich Robinson of The Black Crowes. The final encore of their DVD "Brothers Of A Feather" (a live all acoustic set with just these two brothers) is a cover of this song. The first time I heard it the song broke my heart with joy, hope and prayers for the future. I have tried to sing along with this song a hundred times and I've never been able to get through it. I can't even listen to it without breaking down.
Like so many songs that cut me to the core, this song makes me think of my sons and my prayers for their future. If my life were a Hallmark movie starring Alan Thicke (in the role of me), I would sing this song at the reception when they get married. In real life, I could never make it through the first verse.
"May God bless and keep you always, may your wishes all come true, may you always do for others, and let others do for you. May you build a ladder to the stars, and climb on every rung, and may you stay, forever young. May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true, may you always know the truth, and see the lights surrounding you. May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong, and may you stay, forever young. May your hands always be busy, may your feet always be swift, may you have a strong foundation, when the winds of changes shift. May your heart always be joyful, and may your song always be sung, and may you stay, forever young."
It's funny, even typing these words squeezes the emotions out of my heart like a sponge. My oldest is actually sitting beside me as I type this, oblivious to what I am writing. Even if he knew, he won't be able to really "get it" until he has a child of his own. I rarely listen to this song, and only when no one else is around because I do want my wife to still look at me and think I'm a man, and that would be hard if she ever saw how pitiful I get when I hear this song. Isn't it amazing how you can love something so much that breaks your heart so easily? Isn't it amazing that even though you know what is coming, it brings your emotions out so powerfully every time? I guess this song speaks to me so powerfully because it conveys in a very beautiful and poetic way, the sentiment of one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett lines, "I'm growing older, but not up." I have a few years on me now. I'm not "old" but I'm not "young" either. My boys aren't babies anymore, and never will be again, but I hope they never lose that lust for life that seems to be so strong in those who are young. It has nothing to do with age or your body, and everything to do with your heart and your outlook on life. And in that vein, I hope you stay forever young.
Joie de Vivre
Day 96 (Written Saturday March 17) ~ If we had a motto around our house it would be the words above. Joie de vivre is a French expression that simply means, “The joy of living.” It is a state of mind that takes the time to soak up the simple joys of everyday living. It is, as we Americans say, taking time to smell the roses. It’s the little things that fill an average day, but make it an extraordinary day. Things like sunrise/set, a gentle breeze, kids laughing, a good nap, complete silence, watching, feeling and smelling a warm rain, the way a freshly cut lawn looks or the way clean laundry smells when its still warm. Most days aren’t filled with the over the top amazing things like vacations and such, those days are rare, but everyday is filled with little things that let us go to bed with a smile on our faces. Today was one of those days.
For many years now we have hosted a shrimp boil in the spring. It started with just a few friends who had listened to me talking about Louisiana food for far too long and wanted a taste of it themselves. We had a few over friends over, boiled it up and dumped it all on the table. It was an immediate smash hit and became an annual event, growing in number every year. This year was our biggest yet, with over 40 people hanging out by the creek eating the two 25 quart pots I had to boil. This in addition to crawfish corn bisque (thanks Courtney) and crawfish pie, plus dill chicken pasta for the non seafood lovers.
For me the day begins with what I believe truly is my favorite part, the preparation. I have a good three hour mix of Cajun/Zydeco/Louisiana music that entertains me and transports me mentally to New Orleans while I cut up, chop, slice and measure out all of the ingredients to be used. Few things are more soothing and relaxing to me. Once everything is ready, the cooking begins. As soon as I get the first whiff of all the spices I am officially in full on chill out mode. The rest of the time waiting for the guests to arrive is spent overlooking the creek and keeping an eye on the food as it boils in its stainless steel hot tub.
As night falls we sit around laughing, telling stories and enjoying a feast. It was another successful shrimp boil, another great night with friends and another reason to be thankful for the joy of living.
Bright Lights, Big City
Day 95 (Written Friday March 16) ~ I grew up in a small town and teen years notwithstanding, I love living in a small town. It makes me smile when I walk into Johnson’s Foodtown and have a conversation with practically every employee. It feels great to walk into Reeves Drugstore and the ladies at the deli automatically start making me a chocolate milkshake without me even asking. It’s comforting (but admittedly sometimes a little annoying) to go in Wal Mart and see fifty people you know (and have conversation with half of them). Our convenience stores have bluegrass and country bands that play in them and d
That said, I LOVE spending time downtown in big cities. You know my love affair with New Orleans, but it’s not limited to just the Big Easy. Monday Kase and I meandered around downtown Louisville for about an hour (my new second favorite city after New Orleans) and tonight Jade and I walked around downtown Nashville. I’m not sure what exactly it is that I love about them, but I think these may be factors in it.
They are so different from what I grew up with. Big cities have a completely different feel or vibe than small towns. Small towns have a slow, laid back pace, whereas big cities elicit a buzz, an energy of activity and excitement. Recently I rattled off in 60 seconds every place to eat in the entire city of Pulaski (we were trying to decide what we wanted to eat). I could do this because I have lived here so long I know every street and store and building. I don’t think you can every reach that level of knowledge with a big city. Even if you did, it wouldn’t last long because big cities are constantly changing. I guess what I like about big cities is that they are just different. Different from what I grew up with, different from what I am familiar with, different from one day to the next. There is always something going on in a big city. Just that night in Nashville there was an NCAA Regional Basketball tournament being held at the arena, there were a dozen concerts going on (including one at Rocketown featuring 8 bands, which my son Reese booked himself!!!), street performers entertained on every street and the smells of a dozen restaurants filled the air. Jade and I didn’t really do anything, but just enjoyed walking around downtown taking it all in.
I love the architecture of big cities. I have a tiny knowledge of architecture (recently enhanced by my very talented new architect friend Jared), but my appreciation has nothing to do with knowledge and everything to do with eye appeal. I like certain buildings just because I like the way they look. I love domes, arches, textured stones, curved windows, and anything that looks old. Most cities have a blend of varied styles, but they also usually have an overall look. New Orleans is obviously one of the most amazing architectural cities in America, but others have a lot to offer as well. Louisville had some beautiful old Gothic style churches and cool old buildings. They have an stunning amount of old, unique looking buildings, mixed with newer buildings that aren’t cookie cutter style, but with their own unique flare. My favorite was, interestingly, The Spaghetti Factory building. It was obviously built a long time ago and had been purchased by the restaurant in more recent years. In Nashville I love Union Station, the Ryman and my new favorite, Merchants Restaurant. Jade and I ate dinner here tonight and you must go here. It is the most interesting interior I’ve ever seen in a restaurant. It was once a hotel, a brothel, a drugstore and a pharmaceutical supply store that sold “Blood Medicine” (opium). I’m not a big fan of Atlanta (although admittedly I haven’t had a lot of time to explore it) because it seems too modern for my taste. Memphis has revitalized their downtown and it has a few places with charm. Chicago, around Wrigley field especially, has a cool, old fashioned, 1940’s feel to it. I am fascinated by skyscrapers. I can stare at them for a long time, amazed at the engineering needed to make those things stand for generations. Tonight had the unexpected bonus of watching a crew building the new Omni hotel and convention center.
I love crowds of people. I have always liked being in crowds of people. Not the kind where you can’t move without bumping into someone, but the kind where people are all around. There is an energy to a crowd that cannot be simulated anywhere else in life. One of our favorite hobbies is people watching and crowds provide plenty of visual amusement. Tonight there were tons of fans from a dozen different colleges all sporting their colors, singing their fight songs and chanting in unison for their teams. The Ohio University band and cheerleaders were marching down the street tonight working the crowds into a frenzy.
There are unique and interesting shops in big cities that house a million different treasures and unique items. Of course you have to venture away from the traditional tourist traps with their souvenir tee shirts and overpriced junk. In Nashville I love to visit Hatch Show Prints and look at the vintage style concert posters. Tonight we found an old fashioned hat shop called Goorin Brothers, where they make the hats by hand. To celebrate we each got one (Jade’s is an adorable 20’s flapper style, she is such a hat girl). We’ve found wonderful book stores, vintage clothing stores, and plenty of cool junk stores.
Two other things I love about the city: I love that when we are in the city we don’t hesitate to walk everywhere we go, and I can sit for hours just looking at the skyline.
Young Love
Day 94 (Written Thursday March 15) ~ When I met my wife I was 17 years old. When I married her I had just turned 19 two weeks earlier. In other words, I was a teenager when I got married. I’ve never loved anyone like I love her, but when I got married I was just a kid who knew nothing about life, love, marriage or maturity. That was nearly twenty years ago. Although we “made it” and I love her more than I did back then, I advise my sons not to get married so young.
I don’t believe there is an ideal age to get married or that a person is ever truly, fully ready to get married, but I do think you can be too young and unprepared. You may not agree with me, but it’s hard to argue with the statistics. Half of all teen marriages end in divorce, twice the average of other marriages. Most young people marry believing that love will be enough, not realizing that love doesn’t pay the bills, do the laundry or a dozen other things that are mundane parts of marriage and life. Truth is, love actually is enough, but few young people (and not nearly enough older people), understand what love really is.
In your teens, love is the feeling you get whenever they are around. Love is writing their name on your jeans, your book cover and your notebook. Love is staying on the phone with them for hours on end. These are wonderful parts of new relationships, but they aren’t love. Not real love. Not the kind that sustains two people over the decades and through all of life’s struggles. Love is longsuffering, kind, forgiving, it doesn’t keep a record of wrong doings, it isn’t arrogant or selfish and isn’t easily angered. Love requires maturity, and maturity is seldom a trait seen in youth.
One of the things that frequently sinks a marriage is selfishness. I advise young people to go off into life and live it before making the commitment to give their life to another. Too often a young marriage, having sacrificed goals and dreams of youth (college, travel, freedom, etc), will allow regret to take root and begin destroying the relationship. Marriage, and the family that usually follows, requires a tremendous amount of sacrifice and selflessness. You must put the other person ahead of yourself. Sadly many spouses, after years of this sacrifice, decide they want to stop putting others before self and begin doing things that are destructive to the family. The time to “find yourself” is before you get married. Be young, live life, figure out who you are and what you want, grow more mature and then when you meet the person you can’t live without, give them everything you have to give. Live for them.
A young marriage isn’t doomed to failure, and a marriage between to older people isn’t a guarantee of success. I wouldn’t change anything about our life and relationship, but my wife and I are an exception to the rule. We got lucky, we’re a little stubborn, we had a lot of help and along the way we learned together what it really means to love somebody.
Fair Fight
Day 93 (Written Wednesday March 14) ~ Married people fight. Dating people fight. Engaged people fight. If you think your relationship is dysfunctional or a failure because you fight, you need to back up and reread the previous sentence. People fight and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Here are the things you need to understand about the difference between healthy, normal fighting, and destructive, dangerous fighting. Whether you are talking about boxing, mixed martial arts or wrestling (all sports that involve fighting), there are rules that the participants must follow. You can’t punch below the belt, you can’t gouge eyes and you can’t bite (Mike Tyson) or you will be disqualified. Even if you are the better fighter, if you don’t fight according to the rules, you cannot win. Even Fight Club had rules (but I can’t talk about them). When you fight with a person you have a relationship with, you have to learn to fight fair, within the rules, or else your grievances are disqualified, even if you’re right. Here are a few rules that you need to obey when a fight arises.
Rule #1 ~ Never use violence. May I repeat, never use violence. Did you get that? Never use violence. The moment you do, you lose the argument, and perhaps much more than that. You may lose your freedom, respect, and your relationship. One of the things that separates us from animals, or at least it is supposed to, is our ability to reason and solve conflicts without resorting to violence. If you find yourself tempted to use violence to make your point then you need to remove yourself from the situation immediately. Let’s be honest though, we don’t resort to violence to make a point, but to make us feel better by lashing out and releasing emotion. Too many people excuse bad behavior by saying, “I can’t help myself” or “This is just how I am” or “You pushed me too far”, but these are hollow excuses. We can control ourselves (would you use violence if you were dealing with a police man?), if that is how you are you can change and it is not the other persons responsibility to ensure that I am not pushed too far. You can’t fight fair or healthy when violence is introduced.
Rule #2 ~ Don’t call names or insult. Little kids call names, not adults. If I cannot disagree with you, even in a heated fashion, without personally attacking you or calling you names, it simply reveals my own immaturity. When personal attacks are introduced, the real problem is now set aside and a new problem has been introduced. A person might tell a lie, but does that make them a liar? A person can do something dumb, but not be a dummy. When things turn personal, the problem that started it all (and needs to be dealt with to put an end to all of this), gets pushed to the side. Too often we spend the next few hours arguing about the insults rather than the problem, and once we get tired of fighting someone apologizes and we make up, BUT WE’VE NEVER DEALT WITH THE ORIGINAL PROBLEM. Guess what will rear its ugly head again in the not so distant future?
Rule #3 ~ Remember that feelings don’t always make sense. So many of my fights have come as a result of misunderstandings. A person feels like I ignored them, disrespected them or don’t care about them. These things may not be true, or they may be true but unintentional, but to that person they feel real. If I feel disrespected by you, even if you didn’t intend to do it or even realize you’ve done it, I still FEEL disrespected and that causes a problem. The worst mistake you can make at this point is to tell me I shouldn’t feel this way (or worse yet, insult me by telling me it’s stupid to feel that way). Maybe I shouldn’t feel this way, but simply telling me that isn’t going to change how I feel, but information might. If you take the time to ask why I feel disrespected you might learn something that can solve the problem or I might learn that I misinterpreted your actions or words. In an argument you have to learn to focus on the facts (what you know), rather than your feelings (what you think).
Rule #4 ~ Have a time limit. Boxing matches consist of fifteen, three minute rounds. In other words, there is a time limit. If there wasn’t, the two guys would likely beat each other to death. When you fight with the people you love there needs to be a limit as to how long you keep it going. If after a reasonable amount of time you haven’t been able to get to the real problem and find a solution, then perhaps you need a break from it. You could possibly consult someone else for advice. Try something else, just don’t keep beating one another up endlessly. It may just be the case that you have to agree to disagree on this point. One of the greatest motivators for this rule is the knowledge that the sooner you finish the fight, the quicker you can start making up.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Layovers
Day 92 (Written Tuesday March 13) ~ Unless you are extremely fortunate, most any flight you take is going to include the dreaded layover. If you don’t fly much, a layover is when you have to get on a plane in one city, but have to stop in one or more other cities before you can land at your destination. Sometimes your layover is a mere 30 minutes, other times it can be hours and hours. Most people hate layovers because it is just a waste of time. You’re not home, you’re not at your destination you are just stuck in between. Right now that description best fits us. We are stuck in between. We don’t live in Pulaski anymore, but we don’t live in Georgia yet. We are bouncing all over the place as we travel from our old life to our new one. So if you see me in Wal Mart and have a funny look on your face that says, “I thought you were in Peru or Georgia or somewhere other than here?”, I will understand because I’ve got the same thought in my mind. We sold our house in Pulaski, bought a house in Georgia and travel all over the United States trying to raise our salary and get financial support (hint, hint). We are planning on moving out of the Pulaski house and into the Georgia house sometime around the end of April, first of May. We already have Georgia tags and drivers licenses, are paying utilities in two states, but don’t really belong to either just yet. The funny thing is, when we move in May, we will return to Pulaski for two weeks at the first of June due to Gospel meetings I will be preaching and a wedding I am conducting. If fact, we are committed to be in Pulaski almost once a month for the next seven months. So even when I move, you’ll probably run into me at Wal Mart frequently.
Colonel Sanders, Muhammed Ali and Me
Day 91 (Written Monday March 12) ~ Colonel Sanders, Muhammed Ali and Me
What in the world could these three people possibly have in common? Like Colonel Sanders I love fried chicken and like Muhammad Ali I’m a bad man. Ok so maybe one of those isn’t true, can you guess which one? Actually what we three have in common is Louisville, Kentucky. I am currently in a hotel in Louisville on Muhammad Ali Boulevard and across the street from the KFC Yum Center.
For 13 years I’ve been passing through Louisville on my way to Muncie and Fort Wayne, Indiana, but I’ve never been able to stop here. I figure I’ve seen this city from the interstate over 20 times but I’ve never seen it as more than a skyline (although I do love city skylines). I knew when my meeting in Muncie ended last night that I wouldn’t be able to drive all the way home and I didn’t want to stay in Muncie and have an 8 hour drive ahead of me today, so I decided this would be a perfect opportunity to get to meet Louisville face to face. I booked a hotel in downtown Louisville (about halfway home) and have been thankful I did.
Everyone knows that New Orleans is my favorite city, but Louisville has been making its case for second. The city is filled with majestic old churches and buildings with magnificent architecture and it is set right on the river. It is my favorite skyline, especially when viewed from the bridge leading in from Indiana. Its also a plus that a 24 hours Papa John’s is literally in the parking lot of this hotel! I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, but not if I keep eating Papa John’s and KFC.
What in the world could these three people possibly have in common? Like Colonel Sanders I love fried chicken and like Muhammad Ali I’m a bad man. Ok so maybe one of those isn’t true, can you guess which one? Actually what we three have in common is Louisville, Kentucky. I am currently in a hotel in Louisville on Muhammad Ali Boulevard and across the street from the KFC Yum Center.
For 13 years I’ve been passing through Louisville on my way to Muncie and Fort Wayne, Indiana, but I’ve never been able to stop here. I figure I’ve seen this city from the interstate over 20 times but I’ve never seen it as more than a skyline (although I do love city skylines). I knew when my meeting in Muncie ended last night that I wouldn’t be able to drive all the way home and I didn’t want to stay in Muncie and have an 8 hour drive ahead of me today, so I decided this would be a perfect opportunity to get to meet Louisville face to face. I booked a hotel in downtown Louisville (about halfway home) and have been thankful I did.
Everyone knows that New Orleans is my favorite city, but Louisville has been making its case for second. The city is filled with majestic old churches and buildings with magnificent architecture and it is set right on the river. It is my favorite skyline, especially when viewed from the bridge leading in from Indiana. Its also a plus that a 24 hours Papa John’s is literally in the parking lot of this hotel! I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, but not if I keep eating Papa John’s and KFC.
D-E-L-U-X-E
Day 90 (Written Sunday March 11) ~ D-E-L-U-X-E
deluxe |diˈləks|
adjective
luxurious or sumptuous; of a superior kind : a deluxe hotel.
Last night, after our taxing, long day, Po and I stopped in Anderson, Indiana to check in to The Deluxe Inn. We hopped off at Exit 26 on I69 North, about an hour and fifteen minutes from Fort Wayne. As soon as we got off the exit I saw The Deluxe Inn, $29.99 per night, with tax it totaled $42.00. I hadn’t planned on staying in a hotel, so the $40.00 less than every Days Inn, Holiday Inn and Comfort Inn was a welcome sight. It would be the last welcome sight. When we pulled into the parking lot Po shot me a, “Are you serious?” look. I told him we would be here a maximum of 7 hours, 6 and a half of which we would be asleep, so bear with me. Then I opened the door.
I’ve heard stories about these sorts of hotels. I’ve actually seen a few of them, usually in horror movies. For those of you in Pulaski, picture Star Motel. For those of you not from Pulaski, picture Bates Motel. When I opened the door, for a moment I seriously stopped and considered eating the money and finding a Hampton Inn, but then I thought, “I’ve stayed in worse conditions in Central America, why should this be different.” So I came down off of my high horse and reminded myself, “The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man has nowhere to lay His head”, and I shut the door, got in bed, and said a prayer of thanks for a warmish, softish, not too smelly bed.
I’d Sure Hate To Break Down Here
Day 89. (Written Saturday March 10) ~ The streak is over. It was bound to happen sometime. It couldn’t last forever. The law of averages just isn’t in your favor. So today it happened. In over 15 years of traveling all over the United States, having travelled literally over a hundred thousand miles, I had a breakdown today. In all this time I have been very blessed to never have a problem while traveling. I’ve never owned a new car and rarely owned a good car, but we have always made it without incident. The stroke was broken today. Kase and I left around lunch, heading to Fort Wayne, Indiana. We got as far as Elizabethtown, Kentucky (not quite halfway), when we needed to stop for gas. While filling up my tank I noticed a very large pool of anitfreeze running out from under my car. Uh oh. I pulled out of the way and got under the van to see where it was coming from and thought I saw a hose that was leaking. Not too big a deal. Replacing a hose is not a big problem. My real concern was finding someone/somewhere that would do it. By this point it is 4:00 pm on a Saturday. Very few places were open that did mechanic work. I finally found a Firestone place that said they could do it (thank you Siri and iPhone 4S).
Twenty minutes later a guy is checking out my van when he says, “I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is I found the leak, the bad news is it’s not a hose, it’s a cracked radiator.” He took me into the shop and showed me the steady spray of coolant coming from the radiator. It had to be replaced. Five hundred dollars. Ouch. Two hours later, and five hundred dollars lighter, we were back on the road, but waaaaay behind schedule. We were supposed to stay with brethren in Fort Wayne, but we wouldn’t be arriving until after midnight so I contacted them and told them we were going to drive as far as I could stand and then stop and get a hotel. There is still so much to be thankful for: years without incident, the radiator didn’t blow while doing 70 mph on the interstate, instead of breaking down on the side of the interstate in the middle of Cornfield, Indiana we were off the road and in a town, there was someone open who could fix it, and it was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. There’s always a reason to be thankful. Tune in tomorrow and I will tell you all about this hotel.
Date Night
Day 88. (Written Friday March 9) ~ Beautiful night, Carrabas chicken marsala and the most beautiful and amazing woman I’ve ever know right beside me the whole time, these are the ingredients for a great Friday night. Although we’ve been married for 17 years, my wife and I continue to date regularly. Every chance we get, we get away just the two of us. It may only be for a couple of hours, but we take advantage of every opportunity we have. We seldom do the typical dinner and a movie thing because in a movie you can’t talk to one another. We prefer dinner and somewhere/something that allows us to spend the next few hours talking. The key is to spend time together. I love that whenever I have some amazing or interesting news or thing to tell, I can’t wait to tell her. I love the way she introduces me to new things that I would never have explored on my own. I love to look at her. Sometimes it makes her uncomfortable for me to sit and stare at her, but I could do it for hours. I’ve studied every feature endlessly, but like looking at a work of art or natural wonder, it never gets old. My favorite part is that this gorgeous, interesting, talented and caring woman actually likes to spend time with me and to listen to me. That makes me feel like I am something special, if a girl like her wants to be near a guy like me. We don’t have to spend money, we don’t have to do anything special, just the two of us together acting goofy is a perfect date.
What I've Learned About Missionaries
Day 87 (Written Thursday March 8) ~ If I'm going to be completely uncensored in my honesty, throughout my life, whenever missionaries came to speak at my congregation, I mentally rolled my eyes and thought, "Here goes a boring presentation with statistics, pictures of people I don't know and then a plea for money." This is what went through my head, and it is what when through the minds of many other brethren as well (I know this because I did local work for 15 years and most all of my friends were Christians and they told me so). God has a funny way of teaching you lessons that you need to learn the most. Let me deviate from my point for a moment to illustrate this.
In 1995 I was an erring Christian and my wife was not a Christian. She had been raised in a denominational church and had never heard of or even considered what the Bible said about the one church. One night at dinner with some friends (who were also unfaithful Christians), the husband started picking with Jade about the church of Christ. He did not believe what he was saying, or at least he didn't live like he believed it, but just wanted to say some controversial and offensive things to get Jade "riled up." Well, he succeeded. I remember that night hearing her proclaim emphatically that she would never set foot in a church of Christ as long as she lived. A short time later, a preacher from East Hill (my home congregation) came to visit us and started a series of Bible studies with us. When the studies got to a point of really examining the what the Bible says about the church, Jade (who was already hyper-sensitive due to the previous conversation and did I mention she was 9 months pregnant?), told the preacher to leave and that he wasn't welcome back. Again, I heard her words, I will never set foot in the East Hill Church of Christ and my child will never go there either. Be careful when you tell God what you won't do, He just might teach you a lesson. One year later I was restored, Jade was baptized (at East Hill by the preacher she threw out of the house) and two years later (after graduating from preaching school), I was hired by East Hill as one of their preachers. We spent the next 8 years at East Hill.
Back to my original point. I always had a bad attitude toward missionaries. They weren't "real" preachers since they didn't work with a local congregation. They were professional beggars, etc, etc, etc. I wonder is God was laughing back then when I felt this way and smiling right now that I am a missionary. He had a lesson that He wanted to teach me and it is one I am learning very well.
Here is what I have learned about missionaries in the last few months, having met and spent a great deal of time with many of them. They have a commitment and dedication to their "job" that would be hard to match by any other profession. They are enthusiastic, always looking for, open to, and willing to pursue new opportunities. They are fearless. Uncertainty and stepping out of the boat in faith to walk on the water is a daily requirement of the job. They are horribly underpaid, underfunded, unsupported and unappreciated. How many more multimillion dollar fellowship halls and multipurpose buildings do we really need?!?! We'll borrow tens of thousands of dollars to pave our parking lots, but can't find a hundred dollars a month in the budget to support mission works?!?! They are often alone, far, far away from home and their families. They are on the front lines of the spiritual war for souls, battling poverty, distance, underfunding, language/culture barriers, government resistance, time and resources, just to keep one more person out of hell. They are making a real difference and changing the world in ways that wars and government leaders never could. They represent the helpless and hopeless, the faceless and nameless, the forgotten and the ignored when they stand before gatherings of hundreds of the most blessed people in history here in America.
This is my letter of confession and repentance at my poor attitude toward these heroes of the faith who have been forever changed and can't go back having seen what they've seen overseas. God got my attention, have I gotten yours?
My Little Old Ladies
Day 86 (Written Wednesday March 7) ~ For over ten years I had an amazing privilege, that although I did appreciate, I took it too much for granted. I taught the ladies Bible class. It was predominately made up of retired women, actually all but a few were what we would consider little old ladies. They were brilliant Bible students, they asked some of the most challenging questions, contributed insightful comments and were a pleasure to be around. I counseled many of them when their husbands passed away, sat by them while they were in the hospital and performed their funerals when they died. In short, I got very close to these ladies, spending countless hours with them for over a decade. They made me feel like I had 50 grandmothers. They have amazing life stories with tales of the Depression, New Orleans in the 50’s and World War II. Many of them taught me in Sunday school when I was a child, which made it all the more special to be able to be their Bible class teacher. One of the hardest parts of changing congregations was leaving this class, and these ladies behind. I ran into one of these ladies today and her words we so encouraging, complimentary and loving. Jade has always told me they were my little old lady mafia and would make anyone who did or said anything bad about me regret it. Now that I go long periods of time without seeing them, when I do see them, their aging is far more apparent. They’ve done so much good for so many people for such a long time, it makes me sad to think that one by one they are leaving us. I don’t know where I’d be without my little old ladies, but I know it wouldn’t be as good of a place as I am now. It’s also much easier to step out in faith and do the scary things when you know you’ve got them praying for you daily.
Recovery Day
Day 85 (Written Tuesday March 6) ~ Today I don’t feel like doing anything, I just want to stay in my bed. Four weeks, and 4,000 miles has done me in. My body is spent, my mind is exhausted. It’s been a wonderful month, but as one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs says, “I must confess, I could use some rest. I can’t run at this pace very long.” Usually when we come in off the road we take a few days to just recover. We don’t go anywhere, we don’t do anything, we just chill and enjoy not being in a car or a hotel or eating in a restaurant. It’s good to be home, but as soon as we catch our breath it’s on the road again.
Georgia On My Mind
37, Day 84 (Written Monday March 5) ~ I will ALWAYS be a Tennessee boy. Like Randy Owens once said, pardon me for adapting the lyrics to fit my situation, “My home’s in Tennessee, no matter where I lay my head.” However, when I do something I usually try to invest in it fully and embrace everything about it. I plan on doing this with Georgia. I will eat the peaches, I already love shrimp/fish and grits, try Vidalia onions and pronounce pecans “pee-cans.” I’m planting two Sago Palms in my yard as quickly as possible and I’m hoping to go gator hunting in the swamps too. I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about life in Georgia, and it dawned on me that there are a number of my favorite songs that mention Georgia in the title or lyrics.
Georgia On A Fast Train by Billie Joe Shaver ~ This song has been covered by a number of artists, including Johnny Cash with his son, and also Willie Nelson. Billy Joe Shaver made this song popular with his version, but the one that I love the most is Todd Snider’s done acoustically. Billy Joe’s version is almost ironically humorous, while Snider’s is hauntingly sad. “On a rainy, windy morning, that’s the day that I was born on, in the old sharecroppers one room country shack. They say my mammy left me, same day that she had me, said she hit the road and never once looked back. I’ve been to Georgia on a fast train honey, I wasn’t born no yesterday. I got a good Christian raising and an eight grade education, ain’t no need in y’all a treating me this way.”
Georgia Peaches by Lynyrd Skynyrd ~ You can’t live in the South and not be a fan of Skynyrd, and I have for many years, but not of the usual suspects (Sweet Home Alabama, Freebird, Simple Man, etc). My three favorite Skynyrd songs are: I Need You, All I Have Is A Song and Georgia Peaches (even though it completely rips off the bass line from The Doors song “Five To One”). The first time I heard this song was in an old station wagon with Jode Holden, Brad Liddie, Kevin Ponds and Mikey Michelle coming back across the Lake Pontchartrain causeway into Mandeville after spending my first day in New Orleans. “I think she’s cute, I think she’s cute as she can be. I’m talking ‘bout a funny talking, honky tonking Georgia peach.”
Lonely Night In Georgia by Marc Brussard ~ Marc Brussard is actually a young white guy from Carencro, Louisiana but he was blessed with a deep as a ditch voice that is as rich and gravelly as any old Mississippi Delta blues juke joint performer. I first got into his music when I heard his song “Home” (which has as good a stomp/clap breakdown as I’ve ever heard), but it was his lazy as the Sewanee River (with pauses so long you think he’s forgotten the lyrics) tale of lonely nights on the road, that spoke to me the most. “Stoplights turn to skylines and my mind turns to you, two hundred miles behind, off to this roadside dive, wondering how this cup of coffee’s gonna see me through. But this has been our story, same sad song, ever since the day, the day you came along. It’s a lonely night in Georgia and everything I do reminds me of being with you. It’s a lonely night, but I’ll be alright, ‘cause I’m coming on home, coming on home to you. Skylines turn into stoplights, another town, another crowd. When all the peoples gone home, I’m left all alone, with nothing but you to think about. But this has been our story, I know you’ve heard it all before, ‘cause every time I come home, you know I’m right back out that door....your peach kisses ripened by your southern sun smile, now my senses are heightened with the last hundred miles.”
Washed My Hands In Muddy Water by John Boutte ~ Whenever I have to sit in front of a computer in my office all day, I always turn on internet radio to lighten the mood. One of my favorites is 90.7 WWOZ out of (you guessed it), New Orleans. Until the hurricane it was located in the Treme neighborhood, but today it sits in the heart of the French Quarter. One day while listening I heard a voice that stood out from all the others. It was reminiscent of Sam Cooke, in fact he was singing Sam Cooke’s “A Change Gonna Come.” I stopped what I was doing and started searching until I discovered it was John Boutte. Born and raised right there in the Treme, he performs virtually every Saturday night at dba on Frenchman Street. This introduced me to his music, but it was only the beginning of my love of it. Before long I ran across his cover of an old song (Elvis once did a version of it) called “Washed My Hands In Muddy Water.” It tells the sad story of a boy whose father encouraged him not to follow in his criminal footsteps by keeping his hands clean, yet his life turned out exactly the same. It begins, “I was born in Macon, Georgia, they kept my daddy in the Macon jail. He said ‘Son if you keep your hands clean, you won’t have to hear those bloodhounds on your trail.’ I washed my hands in muddy water, I washed my hands, but they didn’t come clean. I tried to do what my daddy told me, I must have washed my hands in a muddy stream.” I’d listen to John Boutte sing the phone book.
Pine Box by Doug Stone ~ When Jade and I were in high school she worked at Hillcrest Country Club and frequently had to close up at night on Saturdays. I would go out there to be with her so she wasn’t alone and played the juke box until she was done. One night a song came on the juke box automatically that I wasn’t familiar with, but I’ve listened to a million times since. It was one of the saddest, but at the same time most romantic songs I’d ever heard. “I said the night you left me, nothing worse could ever happen, but seeing you with someone else proved that I was wrong. And when your eyes met mine I knew that you were gone forever, along with all the reasons I had for hanging on. I’d be better off in a pine box on a slow train back to Georgia, or in the grey walls of a prison doing time....than to lie here with you and him together on my mind.” This is what real country music sounds like, but you’d never know it by listening to “country” radio today.
Christmas In Dixie by Alabama ~ I realize this might be a seasonal song, but it is one of my all time favorite Christmas songs. The lyrics speak of a man who has spent a lot of time traveling the country and even though these places aren’t home, he can reminisce about them and imagine them during the holidays. “By now in New York City, there’s snow on the ground, and out in California, the sunshine’s falling down, and maybe down in Memphis, Graceland’s all in lights, and in Atlanta, Georgia, there’s peace on earth tonight. Christmas in Dixie, it’s snowing in the pines. Merry Christmas from Dixie, to everyone tonight.
These are my Georgia songs. Who knows, one day I may write one myself. Can you think of any?
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Cars and Trucks and Me
36, Day 83 (Written Sunday March 4) ~ I have to admit, this is one of those days that just feels like it is best described with a song. Many hours on the interstate, many different cities and states in just a few days. I’ll just let Adam Hood tell you how I’m feeling.
"They say it's fun where I'm going, must be cool to be where I've been, but I'd have no way of knowing, blowing into town and back out again. The interstates all look the same, from California to Tennessee, night and day they never change, it's only cars and trucks and me." ~ Adam Hood "Cars and Trucks and Me" on the album Different Groove.
"They say it's fun where I'm going, must be cool to be where I've been, but I'd have no way of knowing, blowing into town and back out again. The interstates all look the same, from California to Tennessee, night and day they never change, it's only cars and trucks and me." ~ Adam Hood "Cars and Trucks and Me" on the album Different Groove.
Monday, March 12, 2012
I Ain’t As Good As I Once Was
36, Day 82 (Written Saturday March 3) ~ Today I did something that I haven’t done in quite awhile. I played backyard football. My family went on a family retreat to Camp Meribah in Centerville, TN with the Pulaski Street Church of Christ. After our devo’s, we played a game of combat jump 21 basketball, which I bowed out of because I didn’t want a broken nose or sprained ankle, and then we played backyard football. The youngest was my son Kase (14) and the oldest, I believe was my favorite preacher Lonnie Jones (50+?). In between were plenty of young, healthy, fast, strong, athletic young men and several over the hill, desk job, 40 pounds overweight dads like me.
I was the 3rd to the last pick (did I mention that my two sons were captains?), but there was a time when I would have been the first pick taken hands down. That was a long time ago. Back in Green Acres subdivision I was Dan Marino, Walter Peyton, Jerry Rice and Lawrence Taylor all wrapped up in one. We played full tackle football in those days and I was a force to be reckoned with, delivering punishing hits, throwing pinpoint precise passes and scoring touchdowns at will as I left a trail of defenders steamrolled or juked out of their shoes. At least that’s how I remember it.
Today was a little different. I didn’t dominate the game, but I played very well. I scored a few touchdowns and never let a guy I was covering catch a pass, but I also fell flat on my face trying to sack the quarterback and can already feel the stiffening and soreness beginning to creep in. But I had so much fun. It felt just like it did when I was a kid, only my body just would not do some of the things that my athletic brain was telling it to do. You want to know the best part.........I didn’t get hurt!
When I Became A Man I Put Away Childish
36, Day 81 (Written Friday March 2) ~ I can’t play video games anymore. They are too complex, too complicated and require far too much digital dexterity and quick reaction time. I’ve tried playing a few times with my sons, and while I can appreciate the technological advancements, the amazing graphics and realism, I just can’t play them for more than five minutes before I grow bored. I guess you could blame it on the fact that instead of a joystick and one button or a keypad and two buttons, they now have two joysticks, four buttons, four triggers and an endless number of combinations. Or perhaps its simply that I realize talking to a real life girl is way more fun that rescuing a digital princess. But it wasn’t always this way.
Growing up I lived on video games, starting with my Atari at age 8 and reaching full bloom when I got my Nintendo Entertainment System. Mom has a picture of my skinny little rear end in Underoos (remember those?) sitting in front of the tv pre-dawn on Christmas morning playing The Empire Strikes Back on my brand new Atari (thanks again Santa, what a great gift). A few years later I upgraded to the Nintendo (again, Santa, how do you do it?) and Super Mario Brothers. I played it that day and night until my eyeballs burned and begged mom not to make me go to my grandmothers for Christmas night because I had to beat the game before my friends, I had to be the first. She made me go, but I still beat it before my friends (somewhere around 4:00 am). Then it was on to Duck Hunt and that annoying dog that mocked me when I missed.
Along the way there were so many other things about my childhood that I think my kids have missed out on. I grew up in a neighborhood with a ton of other kids. Depending on the season we played basketball, football (full tackle, not the sissy two hand touch or flag stuff), and tennis ball (baseball using a tennis ball...it was a neighborhood and breaking windows meant losing your allowance). If school was out there was an unspoken invitation to meet at whatever field was in season and play whatever sport was in season. We kept up with stats on a spiral notebook and were as famous in our neighborhoods as any pro athlete. There were girls in our neighborhood too, but usually they just served as target practice for our paint ball guns or bottle rockets.
Speaking of bottle rockets, we saved money half a year, just to buy duffle bags full of fireworks on July 4th and New Year’s Eve to have fireworks wars. It was just as stupid and dangerous as it sounds: two teams, hundreds of dollars in fireworks, fire them at each other until they were all gone or somebody got hurt. Yes it was dangerous and dumb, but it was also SO MUCH FUN!!!!
I also loved the summertime freedom of hopping on my bicycle and riding anywhere around town that I wanted to go. A pack of boys cruising through town, eating double cheeseburgers and curly fries at Chew-n-Chat, shooting pool at Sack-n-Pack and renting video tapes and video games at Berry’s Video and then going swimming in a pool, a creek, a pond or a drainage ditch.
Inside was just as much fun. We’d have video game tournaments that lasted for days, nerf basketball games that broke lamps and caved in sheetrock, and wrestled. We would turn off the lights and have a free for all wrestling match where we’d beat the daylights out of each other for five minutes and then turn on the lights, bruised, bleeding and mad, and then head outside to play wiffle ball like nothing had happened.
I don’t do these things anymore, haven’t in a very long time, but maybe I should. What do you remember about your childhood that you wish you could relive?
The Next Greatest Generation?
36, Day 80 (Written Thursday March 1) ~ Several years ago Tom Brokaw wrote a book titled, and helped coin the phrase, “The Greatest Generation.” He was speaking of the Depression Era enduring, WWII winning, greatest country in the world building generation. I can’t argue with him about their appropriately given title, but I have a great deal of hope about what has the potential to become the Next Greatest Generation. Sadly its not mine (Generation X), nor the next (Generation Y), but the most recent, the Digital Generation. I know that many older generations view these as hopeless because “they always have their face in a screen”, I beg to differ.
It has been my experience in being around this generation that unlike previous generations they haven’t rebelled against their parents generations (what could they rebel from anyway? The rebellion against rebellion would be conformity), but have embraced, learned from and added to what has come before them. They are much more free from prejudice and racism than their predecessors. They are much more concerned about changing social injustices through action and not just protest. They are globally aware and globally connected. They don’t dress as “reverently” in worship as previous generations (what book, chapter and verse says suits and dresses are reverent and anything else is irreverent?), but they are more zealous to demonstrate their faith outside of the building than previous generations. I take great comfort in knowing that in Biblical history, after several generations arise that know not the Lord, there usually arises one that restores things to the way they need to be. Just this year alone I have met and had lengthy conversations with several members of this generation (Brad, Brandon and Jared are three that stood out the most) that have inspired me personally, and given me great hope that the best, or should I say, greatest is yet to come.
It has been my experience in being around this generation that unlike previous generations they haven’t rebelled against their parents generations (what could they rebel from anyway? The rebellion against rebellion would be conformity), but have embraced, learned from and added to what has come before them. They are much more free from prejudice and racism than their predecessors. They are much more concerned about changing social injustices through action and not just protest. They are globally aware and globally connected. They don’t dress as “reverently” in worship as previous generations (what book, chapter and verse says suits and dresses are reverent and anything else is irreverent?), but they are more zealous to demonstrate their faith outside of the building than previous generations. I take great comfort in knowing that in Biblical history, after several generations arise that know not the Lord, there usually arises one that restores things to the way they need to be. Just this year alone I have met and had lengthy conversations with several members of this generation (Brad, Brandon and Jared are three that stood out the most) that have inspired me personally, and given me great hope that the best, or should I say, greatest is yet to come.
The Skating Rink
36, Day 79 (Written Wednesday February 29) ~ Yesterdays post got me to thinking about those innocent days of my childhood that seem so long ago. A time that was simpler (at least it seems so by comparison to now), when the world seemed a little bit smaller and slower. We were too young to drive and there was nowhere to go on Friday nights except.....the skating rink.
If you grew up in the 70’s and 80’s you remember that the skating rink was THE place to be on Friday night. What better way to relax after a long hard week of middle school and little league practice than letting your troubles just roll away beneath your skates? Not roller blades or Heely’s mind you, but actual, 10 pounds a piece, leather and metal roller skates.
From 6 to 10 I wasn’t a kid, I was old enough to be out on the town on my own, after my parents dropped me off of course. The skating rink was like a night club for kids. Everybody was there, the music was blasting, flashing lights, your best outfit (maybe a Coca Cola neon yellow and blue sweatshirt or parachute pants with a bandana around your neck and your hair feathered back), disco balls, sirens, pool tables, video games (oh how I miss you Joust, Dig-Dug, Donky Kong, Frogger and Pac Man, why did we ever trade you in for Call Of Duty?), food and drinks and a DJ urging everybody to hit the floor cause it was time for some truckin’. Why didn’t we appreciate it more?
Of course there was the awkward and exciting moment when the DJ anounced, “Couples skate only.” You’d wipe your hands a dozen times trying to keep them from sweating while rolling up to some pretty little 80’s roller queen and asking her to skate. If she stuck out her hand for you to take it, your heart would jump into your throat and your stomach would fall into your skates. For the next three and a half minutes you were floating, not skating, scared to look over and make eye contact because you might trip you both, which would certainly ruin your chances of asking her to be your girlfriend. I don’t remember there ever being a bigger hit than Poison’s “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn.” The DJ would play it a dozen times throughout the night, but you didn’t mind because it was always during couples skate which gave you another chance to hold a girls hand. As soon as the song was over though, you high tailed it off the floor and back to the safety of your buddies huddled around Donky Kong, lest you get teased for liking the girl, which of course you hopelessly did.
There was always that one older kid there who brought his own roller skates with him (you know, the ones with the cool glow in the dark wheels) and could do all the cool skating tricks. He could make his skates criss cross back and forth effortlessly, squat down on one foot while sticking the other straight out in front of him and even spin around and skate backwards. I never could figure out how to do that, but I fell a million times trying.
Pulaski had a good skating rink back in the day, Columbia, even better, but the best I ever saw was the Skate Castle in Decatur. My cousins moved there and I went to visit once and didn’t want to come home. First of all the place looked like a giant castle, there was a line of people around the building waiting to get in, and a guy at the door checking people as they entered like some exclusive New York City club and then inside they had the latest video games, pool tables, air hockey, ping pong (who thought ping pong on roller skates was a good idea?) and they played all kinds of skating games. But not long after I traded in my roller skates for a skate board and then a car, saying goodbye forever to the skating rink social scene (at least until I had kids who were taken there for every birthday party).
Sadly there are very few skating rinks around any more and the ones that do exist are usually some Pentecostal Ministry/open only for birthday parties buildings. This world has just gotten too big, too wired, too connected, to distracting for skating rinks to succeed anymore, but I will say this, last year I took a group of 8th grade and under kids skating, most of whom had NEVER BEEN BEFORE (can you believe that?!?!). And guess what? They fell a thousand times as they awkwardly tried to figure out how to balance and move (most of them stiff legged as a billy goat) at the same time, but then something magical happened. They figured it out AND THEY LOVED IT! No phones, iPads or internet, just a group of kids laughing and squealing and talking and trucking and having a great time. Share your memories of the skating rink.
Breakup Songs
36, Day 78 (Written Tuesday February 28) ~ Tonight while driving home with my family a song came on the radio that was an audio time machine. I hadn’t heard it in over a decade and when I heard it tonight it took me back to middle school in an instant. The song was Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There For You” (sing along if you know it). “You left me drowning in my tears, and you won’t save me anymore, now I’m praying to God you’ll give me one more chance girl. I’ll be there for you, these five words I swear to you, when you breathe, I wanna be the air for you, I’ll be there for you, I’d live and I’d die for you, steal the sun from the sky for you, words can’t say what love can do, I’ll be there for you.” Jon Bon Jovi, Shakespeare himself hath nought penned more noble verses. I cranked it up and sang it at the top of my lungs and then made a tragic mistake (worse even than singing 80’s Bon Jovi out loud in the presence of others), I told my family that I remember shedding many 12 year old tears to this song after my 7th grade version of the love of my life broke up with me. As you might imagine, with two teenage sons, the laughter, mockery and insults came in rapid succession. My oldest immediately revoked my man card.
I’ll admit, it sure is funny now, but at the time, my young little heart was broken into a million pieces from which I thought I’d never recover. This wasn’t the first or last time I would pop a tape in my boom box (if you are under 30 and reading this, please find a member of Generation X to explain those two previous things to you: tape and boom box), and sing and cry until it didn’t hurt so much. Sometimes it only took a night, others it took days. In 8th grade, a 6 month “going together” (my longest relationship at the time) went south and to soothe my aching heart I turned to Aerosmith’s “Tell Me What It Takes.” Man it seemed like those old geezer rockers from Boston were thinking about me when they wrote those words, “There goes my old girlfriend...as for all those late night promises, I guess they don’t mean a thing. So baby what’s the story, did you find another man?...now you’re back on the street like you didn’t miss a beat...Tell me what it takes to let you go, tell me how the pain’s supposed to go, tell me how it is that you can sleep in the night, without thinking you lost everything that was good in your life to the toss of the dice?” Well done Stephen Tyler, well done.
Believe it or not, the power of the break up song came into my life much earlier. Many years before, while in elementary school, 3rd grade I think, my girlfriend and I had just broken up and my family went to Pickwick so I couldn’t call her (there was a time when phones were only in our houses and you almost never called anyone long distance), and tell her I’d made a terrible mistake. The only thing that got me through that trip was Journey’s “Oh Sherry.” I can still remember trying to figure out how to call her on the pay phone and hold the receiver up to the boom box so she could hear how sincere I was through Steve Perry’s voice, “You should’ve been gone, knowing how I made you feel...oh sherry, our love holds on, holds on.” But it didn’t hold on, and although my 9 year old heart couldn’t begin to understand such things, it’s good that it didn’t, any of them. Those three girls are all happily married and have been for 10 to 15 years each. One of them is married to one of my best friends and who I consider to be one of my favorite people in the world. They all have beautiful children who look a lot like their mamma’s and their daddy’s (I know from experience because I saw their parents at their age).
As for me, my heart would get broken several more times, and far worse, before I found a girl who had a heart that had been broken many times too. Together we picked up the pieces of our broken hearts and found that they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle that made one beautiful new heart. And she and I took it and locked it away and treasure it. I can’t help but think of another song right now, Rascal Flatts “God Blessed The Broken Road (That Lead Me Straight To You).” And I’m thankful that I’ll never need another break up song to get me through the pain. Instead, I now write songs about how much her love means to me. What about you? What were your break up songs?
My Life Is An Open Book
36, Day 77 (Written Monday February 27) ~ I know what I’m about to say is absurd, ridiculous, impossible and completely in the realm of make believe, but it is the truth. I wish that I could have another life to live in which all I did was read books. My reason for this fantasy is because I will never live long enough to read all of the books that I want to read. I love to read. I am actually writing this blog while sitting in a bookstore. Usually when I write this blog I am in a library. There is something peaceful and calming to me about books. I hate ebooks. I own an iPad but refuse to buy books on my iPad. I prefer the old fashioned, hold it in my hands, turn each page, use an old receipt for a bookmark style of reading. Whenever we travel to a new city, I always seek out the used bookstores. Some of my greatest discoveries have come amongst piles or boxes of musty, dusty, old, used books. I could, and when my family is not with me, do, spend hours in used bookstores. My family says that I’m a nerd and I guess that’s true. I would rather read than watch tv. Problem is, I don’t have a lot of time to read, and when I do have the time, I usually am very tired and just fall asleep.
I have a number of books that I consider my favorite, but like my children, I can’t say that I love one more than the other. I haven’t always liked reading, in fact, in school, I hated it. It wasn’t that I hated reading, it was just that I hated reading what someone else told me I had to read. My taste in books is as random as a ricochet. My attitude toward books really changed when I was a freshman in high school, and after being forced to read something by Nathaniel Hawthorne, or some other dreary “classic”, I found lying in the English hallway, a worn, frayed copy of Ernest Hemmingway’s The Old Man And The Sea. I know it sound goofy and dramatic, but in all seriousness, it was calling to me. I noticed it, picked it up, and felt like I just had to read it. It was pretty short and I loved the Caribbean thanks to Jimmy Buffett, so I went home and started reading. I devoured the book in one evening and I loved it. I had never loved reading before, but I loved this book, so I read it again. I’ve read it virtually every year of my life since. I still have it and keep it among the very few books that I treasure. This list contains a few others like Herman Wouk’s Don’t Stop The Carnival which tells the story of Norman Paperman, a man bored with his life, who cashes in his chips and buys the hotel he stayed in on vacation on the fictitious island of Amerigo. Somewhere along the way Jimmy Buffett’s Tales From Margaritaville made the list. Many others have made appearances on my “favorites list” through the years: Queen Of The Damned (Anne Rice), Fight Club (Chuck Palahniuk), Less Than Zero (Brett Easton Ellis), Where Is Joe Merchant? (Jimmy Buffett), Replay (Ken Grimwood), Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card), The Godfather Trilogy (Mario Puzzo), The Road (Carmac McCarthy) and several more I can’t recall off the top of my head. These books are classics, transgressive fiction, sci-fi, historical fiction and pretty much all genres. In high school there were a few I had to read which I wound up loving: Romeo & Juliet, Julius Caesar, Dracula, A Raisin In The Sun, To Kill A Mockingbird. Currently I’m working on Brandwashed, Making Joe Falcone, Gumbo Ya-Ya, and A Confederacy Of Dunces. I am always reading three or four books at a time and they usually take me a while to get through them, but I’m in no hurry. I enjoy the journey, not the destination. A few that I have refused to read: Twilight, Harry Potter, anything on Oprah’s Book Club (except The Road), anything Stephen King (over-rated). I am currently listening to The Hunger Games on audio book while spending endless hours on the road, which is enticing me to read the rest of the series.
These are the books I love. Tell me what you love, what you’re reading or what you think of my list.
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