The Main Point by Michael Main

The Right Goodbye

2010-08-07T10:12:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'll get into a writing rhythm again, but I think - for now - I'm going to officially let the blog "go away."

Blogging seems so yesterday :)

You can find me on facebook. At facebook.com/michaelmain or you can email me. If you don't know my email address you can use Blogreader@michaelmain.otherinbox.com.

Thanks.

It's been fun.

Memorial Redux

2010-05-31T12:47:00.002-05:00

** I wrote this some years ago...I was starting to write something else today, and decided maybe I shouldn't...I should just remember....(For folks on Facebook...I can never tell when blog entries will post. This post was for Memorial day at "blog.michaelmain.com")**

That was it.

It was a little unsettling.

I mean I write all the time...writing wasn't the issue. The topic didn't scare me...even though it sounded like an assignment you'd give some high school English class. I'll also confess my first thought was, "You mean Sean Elliot's 1999 Western Conference finals shot? The 'Memorial day Miracle?"

Honestly, I remember that Memorial day pretty vividly, but I assumed despite the cryptic nature of the email that 'the web project' was meant to pay homage to the men and women who have and continue to serve and defend our freedoms.

I'm asked to write or help other people write all sorts of things in other aspects of my life, but what I write at work - at least usually - is determined not by vagaries but by facts. I mean, the parameters at work are usually more definitive.

"Memories" are subject to any number of variables, not the least of which is my ability to recall them.

I wasn't intimidated by the idea, but it was as my friend Gordon once wrote like my "world's were colliding."

I got over it, knowing if someone wanted me to have more precise direction I would have received it to begin with so this 'project' was likely a rather last minute thing, and whatever I submitted was not going to be judged too harshly or judged by anything more than word count.

In any case, I found some old photos which provoked good memories, and when I had some time at work I treated the assignment like I do this blog...I wrote whatever came to mind.

A portion of it is included below and the basic theme is the same I suppose but I reworked it into a form I preferred.

I feel compelled to write something about Memorial day, but I also would be remiss if I didn't write about something else that's very important...and I don't think I can tie them together in any plausible segue, so I'm only going to mention that following the little essay is some other news....in radio we call that a "tease."

"The world should know of those who give so much for liberty.
The dearest thing in all the world to a father and mother---their children."- Congressional Record 1917

My father was a member of what we now refer to as "The Greatest Generation" - a veteran of World War II - and like many such men, he never spoke of it, at least not to his sons. He wasn't a war hero, war wasn't something to tell "stories" about and I suppose he believed there were more important things to discuss with his sons because every day was precious.

"Combat" and "Hogan's Heroes" were on TV - it wasn't until many years later that war became a reality to me. Before then, it was a "game," albeit as the youngest of three boys I was rarely the victor in our make believe skirmishes.

Memorial Day Memories from those days were of parading and pretending and the only thing I have in common with them now is the same haircut

The pretending came to a sudden end for me in 1972 when I buried my father, and weeks later, my mother at a military cemetery and gazed upon what seemed to be a never ending sea of reality and sorrow.

Those days were "Memorial Day Memories" to me.

Heroes beneath dirt. The chapters of their lives condensed perhaps in long forgotten newspaper clippings or perhaps kept alive only by a few faint, but frail and failing memories. Some were already lost forever. The neatly organized non-ornate tombstones seemed to me to be a sad and somewhat pathetic attempt to somehow force uniformity on what was obviously an uncontrollable, uncomfortable and unavoidable truth...death.

Don't misinterpret me, there was an air of honor, of respect..but also a healthy dose of fear for a boy my age whose entire world had become uncertain. Especially since the rest of the world which I hadn't paid much attention to up to this point suddenly didn't appear to present much solid footing for wherever the heck I was headed next.

Remember it was 1972... there were an increasing number of bright white undeviating markers honoring men of service, but no matter how neatly arranged, uniformity failed to ease the feelings of loss...and of fear.

A lot of time has passed since then. I no longer fear death because I have come to understand that I will not always understand God's plan, but I have faith in it nonetheless.

Over the years, I have been to many military cemeteries to bury brave men and women, or to observe their burials.

Every one of those days is a "Memorial Day Memory" to me.

Our most recent next door neighbors are a family with three sons. I see the boys playing together all the time...they laugh, and "shoot hoops" and skateboard...but they don't "play war." I suspect not many kids do these days.

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

I'm sure they still enjoy parades and cookouts and family on Memorial day, but I also suspect they understand more about Memorial Day than I did at their age.

That's a hard thing.

However I'm not positive it's a "bad" thing.

I think we need more "Memorial Day Memories"...I think we should have them every day.

Captain Burrito

2010-05-24T06:25:00.000-05:00

This may be the best lead line for a news story I've ever read...from WFTV in Floria.

BREVARD COUNTY, Fla. -- The Brevard County doctor who was arrested for groping a woman while dressed as Captain America with a burrito in his pants will not go to jail.

That really says it all.

Well, the picture helps.

Looking For Crooks

2010-05-23T14:46:00.002-05:00

When she's in the car, one of our dogs wants to stay in the "crook" of my arm.

She finds comfort there...reassurance. Of course she doesn't realize she's compromising my driving skills. She has faith in me...at least more faith then she has in the wind coming in the windows or the cars passing by..some of the many things she doesn't understand.

I suppose faith is always like that...we don't always understand why...we just know where we feel safe.

I find great peace in that.

Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. - Psalm 37:3

Give Me A Fifth Of Mayo

2010-05-05T12:32:00.002-05:00

I'm sort of a "borderline" correspondent these days...not that I'm doing my job(s) in a half-hearted way. I gather/write and report the news in a lot of cities...seemingly more each day. One result is that I'm doing more Texas border news.

Border news is always a welcome relief actually because I can spread it around. If the Governor wants more Border Agents, that story will fly in Brownsville/Harlingen/McAllen as well as El Paso...even though they're about as close together as Austin and Atlanta.

So today is Cinco De Mayo, an increasing popular ethnic holiday. It's the day Mexico and Mexican American communities commemorate the Mexican victory over the French in the Battle of Puebla in 1862. It's a unique holiday.

I was happy to do Cinco De Mayo stories in as many cities as I could justify today (Wichita was a stretch, but give it a few years).

I was looking for that story with "star quality." You know, the story that would dazzle folks. Something to add a little salsa to the event...I mean commemorating a victory over the French? Get in line.

Luckily I stumbled across a report of a raid on some of the untold number of drug cartels operating in Mexico. These wanton killers have so much money it would amaze you. Recently, a former Mexican kingpin cut a deal with the U.S. where he forfeited "some" of his drug profits...50 million dollars. That was the negotiated price, "down" from the original "fine."

What was turned up in the raid on the drug cartel in the Jalisco state of Mexico? Oh, you know...the usual stuff...drugs, money...and um...these:

Those are "diamond studded" guns.

Just say, "No."

Is it appropriate to wave the white flag in the war on drugs on Cinco De Mayo?

Memo to Mark Cuban

2010-04-26T07:06:00.002-05:00

Ah, I love the NBA playoffs. I especially love them when the Spurs are kicking the choking butts of the Dallas Mavericks.

Up three/one in the series that Dallas was all but ordained to win...I can't wait for game five.

Dallas did try to get physical in last night's game.

But in the end, the Mavericks showed their true colors.

Memo to Mark Cuban: It sucks to be you.

Fading Weirdness

2010-04-24T13:06:00.001-05:00

I was sad to read that a bit of Texas weirdness might disappear soon. Years and years ago - gee, let's not even go there - I did a radio piece on Stonehenge II, a replica of Stonehenge in the Texas Hill Country.

Some years ago it was set to run behind a cheesy photo array.

I decided to put it up on YouTube just for the memories.

I'm a soul...man.

2010-04-21T11:38:00.004-05:00

I've been thinking about my soul lately.

Admittedly, that's probably not something a lot of people are wasting the energy of their synapses on, but...hey, that's how I roll.

So, I've been tumbling this concept of "soul" around in my head and trying to put form to it.

You know, I think the soul should be "austere"...sort of plain and forthright. Amish/Quaker...very devout and to the point. No frills. A direct semblance of "you."

Our souls should be quiet and still.

Proper.

Our souls should only reflect the good stuff. Our "inner being" on its best behavior that we wish God would see.

Sorry, I call B.S.

That's not my soul.

I can't hide it...I can't fake it.

I don't really want God to see me all pious and pure...and mercifully I'm fairly certain He won't.

I want God to see me dancing.

I want God to see me reveling.
Reveling in the wonders of His creations.

Laughing and smiling.
Giggling and amazed.

This is my soul. It is a far more than one dimension. It's not plain...or black and white. It's a dodecahedron of color and curiosity. It's alive and in awe...unharnessed and unashamed.

I am a child of God, let loose in the privilege of His wonderment.

There is joy in my soul.

Just Another Day

2010-04-21T07:29:00.002-05:00

Trolling for news...

Near El Paso, a 7-year old boy has been suspended from school because of his hair. It's not too long, it's got a "design."

(Photo Credit:KFOX14 TV)

The kid's parents now say they may "home school" the boy until his hair grows out. Here's another idea, shave his head and teach him the valuable lesson that Mommy and Daddy do stupid things every once in a while, sometimes to their kids.

In Corpus Christi, authorities are investigating why a 45 foot long, 4 foot high chunk of concrete fell off a parking garage. It smashed a car. No one was inside. Personally, I'd be a little wary of parking at that mall...talk about shop 'til you drop.

In the Rio Grande Valley, two men have been charged with murder for stabbing a man 11 times with a screwdriver. They were apparently upset that the victim tried to stop one of the men, a 27 year old, from "hitting on his 15 year old daughter." The murder happened at a baptismal celebration.

Welcome to the world.

It could be weirder I suppose. In Seattle, three bisexual men are suing a national gay-athletic organization, saying they were discriminated against during the Gay Softball World Series. The men say the North American Gay Amateur Athletic Alliance said they were not gay enough to participate in the series.

Not sure what measuring stick is used in that test.

Back within the safe confines of Texas...

In Dallas, groups are upset that the planned George W. Bush Presidential Library may displace some longtime residents...a community of feral cats. Apparently there is a group of people devoted to caring for wild cats on the Southern Methodist University campus, and they are worried putting up a Presidential Library will force the cats to move from their homes where they are "brought food" every day.

Look what the students dragged in.

Did you miss this picture of the Texas Governor kicking off events at the Texas Motor Speedway over the weekend?

Ya gotta love Texas.

Thanks for playing.

Another View

2010-04-10T20:14:00.014-05:00

I'm normally a somewhat forward thinking person. I try not to dwell on the past.

I was reminded today that every so often it can be worthwhile to look back.

It seems like I wrote about the unique establishment on the shores of Lake Erie called "Cheesehaven" years ago, but if I did I can't find that wisdom now. Anyway, when two of my nieces were little girls I would play a game with them...coming up with a "password" for them to say each day. One day the password was "Cheesehaven!" It had to be said with enthusiasm and the girls had to raise their hands when they said it...sort of a little niece "Cheesehaven wave."

Tonight my eldest nephew, Ben, sent me video of his son, Caleb.

It speaks for itself...

Yes, there are days when I look forward to looking back.

End Week Weirdness

2010-04-09T14:20:00.001-05:00

Unrelated weirdness for the week from various cities I'm now providing with news...and assorted other stuff.

Oddest headline - From the Corpus Christi newspaper: Motorist On U.S. 281 In Brooks County.

I guess there aren't many traffic jams there.

From the Rio Grande Valley...Brownsville City Officials and members of the Filipino-American community take part in a "Bataan Death March" memorial "walk."

It's the truth...honest.

Presumably food was served during the event.

From the "You First" department:

Honda has demonstrated its prototype U3-X "Personal Mobility" device - think "Segway" but cheaper.

Looks comfortable huh?

Personally before I sat on that sucker I'd ask for an insurance waiver and a "safe" word.

Finally, the most disturbing photo of the week...assuming you can get past the seating on the Honda U3-X.

This guy has a "face tattoo."

Yikes. Sorry.

Welcome back.

Moving again...

2010-04-06T14:55:00.002-05:00

Okay...the blog has moved again. Of course if you're reading this, you know that.

I am not done tinkering. I think if I manipulate things enough, I will eventually be able to move the blog back where it was...and this silliness will stop...or commence again.

Well, let's...

2010-04-05T16:19:00.001-05:00

Sometimes it's easier to do what you don't want to do. So I've set up a blogspot account, completely eliminating the need to have a website of my own. It's somewhat silly, but then again so is this blog as of late.

I figure this way it'll be easier to write (if I feel like writing) and if the urge should hit to actually put up a real blog again, I can go back. This way I don't have to worry about it, which seems to be my calling as of late.

Of course I can't get "MichaelMain.blogspot.com" or "MikeMain.blogspot.com" or MDMain.blogspot.com or MMain or MM or MDM or...well, anything. I finally just started typing in anything that came to mind...

This is the result.

Impressive eh?

Well, let's give it a try...for now.

This blog has moved

2010-04-05T14:29:00.001-05:00

This blog is now located at http://maddogmain.blogspot.com/.
You will be automatically redirected in 30 seconds, or you may click here.

For feed subscribers, please update your feed subscriptions to
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Reprieve

2010-03-18T05:51:00.001-05:00

After two weeks of ignoring me, the folks at bloogle have fixed the screw up in the publishing of this blog. They still plan to do away with Blogger in any meaningful capacity for me, but their timeline has been pushed back until May. That means I can spend time during my week off messing with this thing, or I can put it on the back burner.

Yeah...guess which I chose?

Dearth Of A Blog

2010-03-10T14:03:00.007-06:00

-Writers note: Blogger/Google seems unable to publish this post at the moment which is ironic if not a bit of unintentional foreshadowing.

Okay, so here's the deal. Blogger/Google is doing away with its FTP (file transfer protocol) publishing. Who cares right?

Well I do, a little.
That's the way I publish this blog when I actually get around to writing something, which admittedly is a pretty rare event these days.

Blogger/Google (I'll just call it Blooggle) wants to "convert" this site to either one hosted by Blooggle or to a sub-domain...like blog.michaelmain.com. It sounds like no big deal, but it's really a pain and it doesn't make much sense to me to put the blog in a sub-domain when there's nothing on the primary domain of any consequence (please refrain from value judgments about the blog's value).
Also it pisses me off a little...I mean I went with blogger some seven years ago and now I'm of no value to them.

So anyway, I have been looking at various "conversion tools" and they don't seem to work very well, if at all. I was really thinking I'd just face facts and admit I'm not all that enamored with blogging and let this sucker die a slow death in the cloud of cyber rot, but now I'm consider another option.

What really makes changing blogging software (going to WordPress) a pain is trying to bring along all of my old posts/comments. I have attempted a couple of conversions in the past and they didn't work. Now I'm thinking maybe I'd be a lot less reluctant about this entire process if I simply set up a new site using Wordpress. Technically I suppose the archived material would still exist - nothing ever really dies on the Internet - but I'd be free not to have to try to bring it into the new set up. It would be like moving to a new house and not having to pack up all the crap from the previous home.

This sounds very appealing...in fact I'd like to do it with our actual house now that I think about it.

I really can't imagine there are gaggles of people scouring my past wisdom anyway. There's a good chance I will find some way to incorporate the archives much like the system I have set up currently, in fact I may be able to put in that exact coding...but I won't 'have' to...which seems to be key.

I know this is "inside baseball" sort of stuff, but then again I suppose this blog is too. I have some time next week to tinker with things and that's my current thinking. So either I'll do a rebirth of sorts...or I'll come up with a fabulous sign off...something original I'm sure.

Rube The Day

2010-03-08T05:24:00.000-06:00

Ash Wednesday Update/Ramblings

2010-02-17T16:23:00.002-06:00

I love this time of year...it's a time of self examination and I'm pretty good at that...plus I like finding new ways to make room in my life for God.   This season is going to be interesting. Amy and I have decided to do some church shopping again.    We've loved the church we've been part of for the past couple of years, but we don't feel like we've really connected with a community.   It's not the community's fault...it's probably ours.   So we've been visiting churches and I must admit our current church home is looking better. I thought I could see cobwebs growing during the sermon we sat through on Sunday.

There are some other things changing during this time. The future of this blog is a little dicey.   Blogger is eliminating its support for the way I compose and edit this space.   They say they're going to provide some type of conversion tool.   They haven't yet.    I will likely roll with the punches.    I now tend to think of the writing here like I do dreams, I don't try to examine it too closely or hang onto it any more.
---

I usually "fast" during this time. I've been on a modified fast for a few weeks now, although I blew it on Valentine's day to take Amy and our youngest daughter out for steaks. Come to think of it, I blew it this morning when I brought home breakfast tacos for Amy's birthday. Yeah, I'm a big spender.

Oh get over it, I brought home flowers too.

Happy Birthday my love!

That brings up something from my "I should mention this on the blog" file, which admittedly is stuffed full of stuff I haven't mentioned.   I recently received a copy of "The Daniel Fast", a book by Susan Gregory.

Susan sent it to me with a nice note.

A couple of years ago I wrote about Susan who had contacted me about getting more traffic to her website.   That apparently worked out for her. She wrote a book and mentioned me in the acknowledgments.

Thanks Susan.

So that's an update of sorts... I know it's a little rambling. I hope, but am not promising, to write more during this season. As always I'm exploring my relationship with Christ, which is a daunting task.    I mean when something fails in that relationship it's pretty easy to figure out who to blame.

It's Sports Illustrated Day!

2010-02-10T07:24:00.000-06:00

The swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated is arriving in mailboxes.

Oh...I get a different sports magazine.

Dirty Politics

2010-02-04T07:07:00.000-06:00

I've heard of politicians slinging mud.

This is the first political ad I've seen where the candidate has thrown dirt...from a graveyard.

Enjoy The Weekend

2010-01-22T03:48:00.000-06:00

I don't mean to startle you, but...um...well, I did receive this email today from "End Time Ministries."

Take note of the subject line.

Finally!

2010-01-18T03:05:00.000-06:00

Finally! Exactly what the world needs, an emoticon for sarcasm.

Why would you read this?

2010-01-13T14:40:00.000-06:00

I'm fairly sure by now that no one should be checking this site any longer...considering I haven't written anything here in months. However I suppose I should at least say Amy and I are fine. Life is fairly uneventful, which may be part of the reason I don't feel compelled to write here. The cynics out there might suggest another factor be considered...laziness. I won't dignify that by saying something like, "Ya think?"

To put rumors to rest, I have not accepted a job as the new late night host for NBC, none of our children have drifted away in a home made balloon.

It's simply been a quiet season.

Just us and, of course, Tiger.

Wag Your Tail

2009-11-17T06:18:00.000-06:00

Right F-Stop for an F-18

2009-11-09T06:51:00.002-06:00

My son-in-law took this shot of an F-18 "flirting with the sound barrier" at the Randolph Air Force Base Air Show on Sunday.

Pretty cool.

Presidential Dressing

2009-11-04T07:02:00.000-06:00

Sorry, this is not a recipe for some special White House stuffing for Thanksgiving...that would probably require more pork than I could stomach.
However I was relieved that in addition to no longer having to worry about car companies, banks, and health care...I can also now not have to worry about how to dress thanks to the President. Yes, I now get advice on how to dress from President Obama himself at a website called "Obama Weather"

This is today's suggested outfit for San Antonio.

Presumably that's for this morning, since it's supposed to hit 80 degrees this afternoon. I went to work this morning in a heavy shirt, jeans and flip flops...but I'm not a jacket type guy. If I were to be wearing a jacket and sweater this afternoon I'd probably keel over...something I am trying to avoid at least until free health care is available.

I must say the President appears to have better web fashion sense than Angelina Jolie, who can also provide clothing suggestions based on the daily forecast.

Personally, I tend to doubt you'd ever catch Ms. Jolie dressed in "frumpy chic" attire...then again, it's not like a guy wearing flip flops at the office is going to be forecasting fashion trends any time soon.

Dem Bones

2009-10-30T07:02:00.000-05:00

Stream of consciousness...

Okay, so I'm writing news this morning for some radio stations in the Rio Grande Valley and there's a story about a guy who was hauled in by the feds on allegations he was making grenades at his house...makes you want to get out and meet your neighbors huh? Anyway, authorities also say they found "human and animal" bones at his home along with a blood stained shrine. Charming.

So I'm expecting this is going to turn into another murder story when I discover that police say the suspect apparently bought many of the remains "legally over the Internet."

Yeah, I know nothing should surprise us about the Internet...but I really wasn't ready for:

Apparently this is not as ghoulish of an outfit as it sounds. They provide legitimate specimens for schools, museums and "collectors."

The Brownsville Monitor quotes the founder of Skulls Unlimited as saying they get their "inventory" from "wherever we can get a legal supply"...including road kills.

That's for animals...for people bones, the prime choice is apparently Asia where there is not as much of a stigma to selling your dead relative's remains.

The quote I really love is this one: "Every culture is different, it would be taboo to sell grandma."

That should be of some relief to the Grandmothers out there.

Oh...almost forgot. This is the company's advertised "Special."

Gives a new meaning to the idea of getting a head start on your Christmas shopping.

Happy Halloween.

Be Careful Where You Sit

2009-10-22T07:24:00.000-05:00

This may be the winner of the worst baby Halloween costume of 2009...

Really?

2009-10-19T10:06:00.001-05:00

Stream of consciousness....

I drive home on the backroads when I can...I mean I hit the highway and then at the first feasible chance I find a way to get home where I'm not going to be frustrated by traffic. Chalk it up to the fact that for more decades than I wish to count I've worked very early in the morning and the only thing I have contend with at that hour are drunks. I'm used to drunk drivers...I can't handle the maniacs in regular traffic.

So I'm driving home today on a little used road by our home called "Lookout." Amy and I have laughingly referred to it as "Lookout Mall" since it's usually strewn with crap folks have dumped for whatever reason: couches, mattresses, entire furniture sets, and Lord only knows what types of hazardous waste.

Today I had to swerve to miss a Christmas tree.

Today.

Today being October 19th.

I'm serious.

I am as much a procrastinator as the next guy, probably moreso but....IT'S OCTOBER! Someone just now is getting rid of their old dead Christmas tree?

They must live in a different reality.

I've decided "reality" is a subjective term...What's apparently real to me is not real to far more people than I wish to imagine, much less meet.

Yes, this idea was spawned by the realization that this nutjob "family" in Colorado apparently captured the media's attention (sorry I slept through that drama - if I can't fast forward past the commercials I don't watch it) by pretending their 6 year old kid was in some bogus weather balloon. All this in hopes of landing a contract for a "Reality" TV show.

Huh?

What reality are they in?

Are they in the reality that thinks the "Real" Housewives of____________ are ...."real" housewives?

I mean I never see these housewives taking out the trash or doing laundry or...well...being "real."

I've never seen them without make up much less making uncomfortable noises in the bathroom...not that I want to, I'm just sayin'....

My reality is not worth a sales pitch. That may change though, one day some network may actually pay me to videotape my seemingly senseless chore of washing three muddy dogs...that'll be compelling.

My reality is I have a dog that growls like Popeye...I'd post the video but in reality my SmartPhone is having a senior moment and I don't really want to sit here and figure it out.

My reality is I struggle to figure out why one car thinks the door is open when it rains and another decides the windows should stop working in wet weather ....Oh yeah, the windows only go down not up during thunderstorms.

My reality involves things like strange hairs growing in my ears faster than any other place on my body, and funky smells in the kitchen I can't seem to trace.

Pretending your kid is trapped in a makeshift duct-taped weather balloon? Wondering if you got the right return on your $100,000 dollar kitchen makeover? Having some commando come and redo your hair salon?

That's a different reality.

Time to face reality.
I'm never going to have a TV show.

A sitcom...well, that's a different story.

A Head Start On The Week

2009-10-19T06:55:00.001-05:00

Monday.

Everything seems fine.

Still something appears to be just not right.

Gotta get my head on straight.

(AP Photo/Matt Dunham)

Shoot

2009-10-14T06:28:00.000-05:00

The Mog Days Of Fall

2009-09-24T16:25:00.002-05:00

Fall arrived in South Texas exactly on schedule...I mean to the day.   It's cooler and it's wetter. We've actually had real rain, which is a blessing in almost every case...the exception being if your lawn has dried up and blown away during the past two years of drought and now your backyard is just dirt.

Rain + Dirt = Mud

Our smaller dogs, who are genetically inclined to be filthy, have it a little easier since they are a older, lazier and smaller.   Winston, whom we're convinced is mentally challenged to begin with, has decided not to venture off the remnants of concrete rubble we fondly refer to as our back porch.   This makes for some not so delightful surprises if you go outside barefoot without watching where you step.

Abby, who still has quite a bit of puppy vigor in her, hasn't quite figured out the rain plus dirt equation.   We can't really blame her, she's only seen rain a few times in her life.

However she's noticing the consequences.

She bounds outside and within a few seconds finds herself a little slower...a little heavier and much filthier.

Mud + Dogs =?

Several times each day she is now being transformed from a dog to a "mog'....half dog/half mud.

I suppose even when God blesses us there will always be days when we still must carry an extra load.

My eyes are ever on the Lord for only he will release my feet from the snare - Psalm 25:15

Taking The Plunge

2009-09-15T06:54:00.002-05:00

So these days I'm cranking out newscasts for a variety of radio stations, cities...states. I'm finding it interesting how many stories overlap...swine flu, cash for clunkers, health care...etc.

However, occasionally there are stories that are one of a kind...and for that you have to thank God

One such item appeared on the police blotter in Wichita, Kansas. Apparently police responded to a robbery call for a couple who were robbed amid the throes of passion...while in a dumpster.

These were not teens lacking a decent car back seat...the man and woman were in their 40's. However their hormones were apparently raging so rampantly that they trashed all sense of dignity and tossed themselves into a dumpster for what police describe as "an intimate moment."

Ah...romance.

Dumpster Susie, Dumpster Sam
Do the jitterbug out in Dumpster land
And they shimmy
And Sammy's so skinny

Alas, some uncouth bandits broke up the episode of lust in the dust (and goodness knows what else) by robbing the couple at knife point.

Police eventually caught the thieves and returned the couple's property....but that special moment...that one time refuse rendezvous ...that's something they can never get back...although I'm sure the memory will linger...until at least laundry day.

And they whirled and they twirled and they tangoed
Singin' and jingin' the jango
Floatin' like the heavens above
It looks like dumpster love..

He's Not Looking...RUN!!

2009-09-03T07:55:00.004-05:00

We happen to have the chief spokesperson for San Antonio's Catholic Archdiocese hosting one of our radio station's morning show today - he used to be my boss, it's not like we drag Deacons off the street. I saw this photo in the Wall Street Journal and had to ask him if perhaps the Catholic church needed to work on some trust issues with the Dalai Lama...

Photo Credit:REUTERS/Pichi Chuang

I Know....I Know...But....Look That Way!

2009-09-02T17:43:00.004-05:00

Yeah, yeah...haven't written anything except Amy and I are sailing new seas metaphors...that's all going great. I've actually been tied up lately...well, on blogger, trying to design an old fashioned "web log" for work related purposes, but have been a little stymied by the workings of the web and the fact that I want the system to be very simple and somewhat idiot proof.

Anyway, in God's most efficient manner He's gifted me with the perfect distraction from working on this project and writing any more about how I'm not writing more.

Look! A baby picture!

Erin - the very first guest in our "Upper Room Ministry" - is living a new life as a Mom!

She and her husband Ron have new son! Kyler!

Welcome to the world Kyler! You're in wonderful hands!

From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another - John 1:16

Psalm 134 - The Song of Michael

2009-08-19T20:47:00.003-05:00

So this is God..I see Him here.
I see Him and I face my fear.
I pray that He will guide my way
Yet I hear Him say "This is YOUR day."
This is free will...or so it's said
Will I rise up from the dead?
What matter such thoughts as these?
When the Lord, my God...I pray to please.

selah

Yes. It's Too Hot To Type.

2009-08-08T08:59:00.004-05:00

Finally an excuse. A previous commenter asked if I had essentially succumbed to the heat. Well, that's a better excuse than I was thinking of which was, "I've been riveted to the CSPAN coverage of Sonya Sontomayor."

This is I believe day 43 where the temperature will top 100 degrees in San Antonio, and rain...well, I don't even remember rain.

That's not really any excuse, in truth I haven't been focused too much on writing these days outside of my office. I have been focused on primarily on being quiet, listening for direction, eliminating some things from our lives that were taking our lives in a direction that was not pleasing to us, and I'm sure not to God.

This has been a tough season, weather-wise and life-wise. However we're getting through it and we're on the right path. It has been a lonely path at times and will continue to be for a while. So there are still some hills to climb, perhaps some rough seas and there are some adjustments which require Amy and me to continue to focus...on Amy and me.

Plus, it is still hot as Hell.

Please know we're fine. We'll be better.

The dogs are fine...they'll never be better. I've resigned myself to the fact that we attract psychologically damaged dogs.

The job is fine, better than it has been in a while, and I have nothing to complain about, which may also have resulted in a bit of writer's block since complaining is always a good way to start my writing juices.

There are better times ahead. I will write more, but some chapters of this stage of our lives are best held close to the vest...for now.

Amy and I are looking ahead...and seeing wonderful things to come.

The rough seas behind us, thanks entirely to God's grace.

Net Side Story

2009-07-19T14:49:00.002-05:00

I truly loved this...

In God We Trust....

2009-07-09T07:36:00.001-05:00

From the Denton Record Chronicle:

A man commissioned a tattoo artist to imprint "Only God can judge me" on his upper arm Monday and then left without paying, the victim told Denton police.
The tattoo artist said the man came in to the shop in the 200 block of West University Drive with some friends and asked for the motto along with the image of praying hands.
The artist completed the work and asked for $200, according to the report. The man handed over a credit card, but the charge was declined by the credit card company. The man waited in the front of the store for a bit with his friends, and the friends slipped away.
Then the man ran out of the store, according to the report.

----

The tattoo parlor's new policy: "In God we trust...all others pay cash."

The Music Of Your Life

2009-06-28T08:46:00.005-05:00

I had the opportunity last night to watch an "Elvis" impersonator. I mean...in person...and not at gunpoint.

For the record I didn't pay for the experience nor did I take advantage of the offers to have my photo taken with the impersonator for $5.00.

He actually was very entertaining. This impersonator and his entourage are known as Michael Albert and the Big "E" Band.

I've heard it said, and I tend to believe, that most of us identify with the music from our high school years. Whatever we listened to during those years is the type of music we associate with the best times of our lives, even though I suspect high school would not rate as the best time in most of our lives by any means.

Elvis' popularity peaked (at least on the music charts - in general terms it could be debated he might be even more popular today) before my high school era and my music tastes - or at least the types of music I am most familiar with and link to the "good times" in my life - are from the early 70's to early 80's.

Not that I didn't occasionally listen to Elvis music - and I still do today.

Elvis impersonators are a different story. Michael Albert is the first Elvis impersonator I've ever gone to see "live."

I was struck by a couple of things during his performance and make no mistake he put on a very fine performance. He's not a dead ringer for Elvis, in fact I'm sure when he removes the white, rhinestone covered pants suit and the over the top black wig with sideburns, he can probably go just about anywhere without anyone thinking he's "Elvis." However on stage he did demonstrate the same type of charisma, he knows how to work the crowd, and appeal to his core audience while entertaining those of us who were not quite as enamored with Elvis or his legacy. However make no mistake if you truly want to enjoy the full show of an Elvis impersonator, you need to watch more than the performance. Such events, at least to me, are much like watching professional wrestling...if you aren't spending as much time observing the audience then you are missing a major component of the show.

There were people a decade or three older than myself who were swaying in their seats, many were mouthing or singing the words to songs which I had never heard performed before - by Elvis or anyone else. In fact I initially thought that I might be watching the only Elvis impersonator who specialized in doing the "B" side of Elvis singles. However he eventually started singing a few more songs with which I was familiar...and the crowd ate it up even more.

I didn't stick around for the whole act...or even the entire first half of the program. Still what I did watch was entertaining, and some of the elder members of my family stayed for the whole show and seemingly loved it.

As I left I couldn't help but wonder if in 10 or 15 or 30 years this same auditorium might be packed with folks watching a similar program. A "tribute" act to a musician representative of a time in their lives when the healing power of our memories eventually tilted life's ration of good times to outweigh the bad.

I would feel equally out of place since that entertainer also reached his peak at a time outside of the most influential musical era for me.

Like Elvis though, he was a musician who had a lot of imitators when he was alive and who died too young and too suddenly.

Both were pioneers.

It will be interesting to see if Michael Jackson's legacy will include a "tribute industry."

Time will tell.

However if there are Michael Jackson impersonators working the circuit in 15 or 20 years...take my advice...try to catch the show...and remember to watch all the participants, including the folks in the seats in front of you.

If nothing else, I think you may have a better understanding of the cliche "larger than life."

The Business End

2009-06-25T15:35:00.004-05:00

"Have you done your business?"

That's a euphemism at our house when dealing with our dogs, usually when we don't have the patience to deal with them much longer.
Amy or I will often try to hurry the dogs along so we can put them in the house after we're certain they've eaten their most recent meal. However before we can be certain that they won't intrude upon our sleep or other highly important project by whining, or howling or suddenly barking incessantly (their three individual ways of communicating with us) we've been trained to make sure they've taken care of their basic digestive functions. Thus we'll often stand around on the patio asking, "Have you done your business?"
Or encouraging, "Hurry up! Be good dogs. Go do your business!"
If our patience is wearing be bit thin - we may be more demanding, "GO DO YOUR #%*!( BUSINESS!"

Except for our dogs and possibly my physician, I do not willingly have discussions with anyone regarding the "business" side of life, albeit I have been roped into some conversations about babies where this topic seems to be appropriate and for some, the source of great glee. I usually try to get out of those discussions post haste.

All of us have our personal boundaries and one of mine is that I also really don't want to discuss anything while "taking care" of my own business.

At home, this is not really an issue. I mean when the kids were young, they might wander by the "reading" room and I'd hear someone mutter, "Gross!" and during my college days I had a roommate who was fond of remarking as he passed by occupied facilities, "Whooa! Somethin' crawl up inside ya and die?"

Without exception, I've always considered such comments to be rhetorical rather than actual conversation starters.

On occasion at my office I've found myself trapped "mid-business" when someone, whose identity I can often only try to guess by their shoes, will park themselves right "next door" and begin conversing. I believe these type of people do not care with whom they are striking up a dialog, they are happy simply to have a captive audience.

I realize many people have differing views about how manners/propriety/personal hygiene and other matters come into play when it comes to this topic. Let me make one thing clear: I don't care what you think about the topic. I do not wish to discuss your thoughts and most certainly I don't want to hear your thoughts, or anything else emanating from you, during the actual course of "business."

So, when confronted by such situations it is my policy to completely ignore the other person except to study their shoes as closely as possible so I can avoid them in the future. I also make a mental reminder to always try to use our company's "same sex" facility since it is not designed to be shared while in use. Should a conversation erupt in that room, it would be symptomatic of a larger problem... or certainly the fodder for a rather lurid office scandal.

Considering my personal policy, my writing about this topic must seem a bit odd to some of you...actually I would hope it seems strange to all of you.

Not to worry...blame DFW airport.

Amy and I were at DFW yesterday waiting for our flight when I decided to take advantage of one of the few, if not the only, things at that immense and lavish travel hub that doesn't require you to possess either an amazing amount of cash or a credit score on par with that of a pre-stock market crash Bill Gates.

The Mens room.

So I asked Amy not to let the our plane leave without me and then boarded a tram, rode the moving walkways, zipped up an escalator, two or three stairwells, bypassed sixteen or seventeen 5-star restaurants as well as the only Taco Bell on earth where a taco costs more than many small cars, and I finally arrived.

I knew, of course, that should I need to "attend to business" during our upcoming flight I wouldn't be bothered by someone striking up a conversation "mid business." However that benefit could not outweigh memories of the untold number of unpleasant past experiences with on board aircraft facilities. The fact is I knew that in flight I would be risking all of the disgusting prospects presented by what can generously only be described as an "airborne Port-o-Potty" - only less spacious than the ground versions and apparently designed by the same folks responsible for the amenities which brought fame to the Hanoi Hilton. Although I will concede that it took me a while to understand that not having the ability to actually inhale while inside aircraft restrooms should indeed be considered a plus.

Also I didn't realize that an airport the size of DFW apparently has a strict policy of no more than one restroom every six or seven miles.

Anyway, as is the case in most airport facilities, the people using them tend not to break into spontaneous conversations with one another, since no one knows anyone else. This obviously is fine with me...I think it should be the law everywhere.

Also, to put this delicately, the nature of my particular "business" at that moment was such that it could be done while standing, so to speak. Therefore I wasn't running the risk of being trapped next to some chatty guy while worrying that DFW Airport might institute a "pay as you go" policy while I was seated.

So, after recovering from the journey that's required to actually reach the Mens room, I entered with little or no concern.

I selected one of 4672 available places of "business" set aside for standing clientele and was occupying my thoughts by trying to remember the course I'd need to take to get out of the restroom, not to mention directions to the gate where Amy was still waiting, when my thoughts were suddenly interrupted:

"So, let me tell ya! This is BIG! I mean it's HUGE! Giant I tell ya! You really need to meet me so you can personally SEE the size of this deal!"

It was a very loud voice and every word resonated thanks to the fact the walls were all covered by an elaborate display of hand carved marble tiles each of which was I believe individually selected and flown back to DFW on separate aircraft paid for by the profits from the airport's Orange Julius stand.

I couldn't discern the speaker's precise location, but I knew he was behind me and in a seated position amid the 4682 places set aside for clientele of that nature.

"Joe....I'm tellin' you...this is something you will want to see to believe! Get on a plane now!"

I was somewhat amused but also cursing my imagination for conjuring up any number of distasteful images as a result of this guy's desire to make sure everyone at the airport (and possibly all of Texas) could hear every word he was hollering into what I now realized was a cell phone. I was starting to feel a bit relieved that at least the echoing gibbering fool was not making a sales pitch to some poor schmoe helplessly locked in the next enclosed seating area when I heard:

"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"
"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"
"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"

Mercifully my mind could not react quick enough to incorporate that sudden addition to this sickening serenade with the previously conjured images I was still processing..

"Honestly, if you miss out on this opportunity fella, yer gonna feel like...."

"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"
"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"
"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"

"Noise? What nois....Oh! Ya know what that is Joe? That's the sound of the last guy who passed up on seeing this thing Joe..."

"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"
"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!""
AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"

"I'm tellin' you it's unbelievable..."

"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"
"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"

"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! AAAAAARRRRR.... "

I'm not certain how long it continued...too long I know. One guy talking and another apparent half man/half giant cat trying to extricate a giant hairball....behind closed doors, but certainly not in private.

All I can remember from that point is running by 3893 wash basins designed to remain untouched by human hands which all simultaneously began spewing water.

I was well on my way down the first flight or two of stairs while still hearing the whir of hundreds of automated towel dispensers as they each churned out a precisely measure piece of paper towel scientifically determined to be exactly enough to be of no use if you actually wanted to dry anything....but I wasn't moving fast enough to out run the haunting echo...

"Joe??? Joe?"

"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"
"AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!""
AAAAAGGGGH CCCCCHHLLLAAACK! PPPTTTTOOOEY!!"

"Joe!! This deal will make you flush I tell ya!!"

When I finally made it back to where Amy was still seated - on the rich Corinthian leather lounge chairs provided at no cost, unless you want to look out the window - she gave me a curious look. I couldn't bring myself to tell her of the horror.

Instead I simply said, "This is no place to do business."

Talkin' Stuff

2009-06-17T09:16:00.004-05:00

Are You there?

"I Am."

Sorry, I suppose that was a silly question...I mean I know You're always there it's just that it seems like such a long time has passed since we've talked....ya know?

"I'm glad we're talking now."

So am I, but...um...I guess I just needed to know You were listening.

"I'm always listening."

I know...I must sound so stupid to You, but sometimes..

"You do not sound 'stupid'...please, go on."

Okay, stupid is the wrong word...it's just that there's so much 'stuff' I'm trying to cram into my life and when so much time passes between our talks...well, part of me has to wonder why You would even bother listening to me...

"Was that a question?"

I...uh, oh of course, no that really wasn't a question...gee, now I feel really stup...uh...ungrateful.

"It saddens Me that you would make yourself feel that way."

Well, uh...oh dam..er darn this is not coming out right.

"I hear more than your words."

I'm sorry....maybe it's just that with so many really good people out there.. I guess there are times I...well, so often lately I seem to lose my focus and direction...and I guess I find it hard to believe You'd still be there for me...I guess I think that You'd consider me a waste of time.

"I consider you precious. We could talk a lot about 'time' but let's agree that I have a different perspective on that issue.

You certainly are 'guessing' a lot, but I think you also should concede that I'm going to win any guessing games."

Ha! That's for f...er...dam...uh....That's true! I'm so sorry, I must sound...

"You 'sound' like you want to talk."

I do! That's the whole thing! I want to talk more often and I feel so ashamed that we haven't and even more confused about why we haven't ...

"I understand that particular confusion.

Your "feelings" however are of your own making. We are talking now and that gladdens Me."

Me too! I suppose it's all the other stuff in my life that's preoccupied me...ya know money, work, family, worrying about this, or that, the kids, the future, friends, family...car repairs...smelly dogs...and

"I agree you have a lot of 'stuff.'"

Okay, sure...sorry.

"I've already forgiven you."

I'm sor...I mean, I know...and I'm so thankful believe me.

"I will always believe in you."

Oh man....You are so wonderful, I can't believe I've let so much time pass without us talking. I guess...er suppose...what I'm trying to say is that maybe I need to get rid of all this other stuff so I can have more time with You.

"Perhaps."

Perhaps? Are You saying there's another way? Like maybe You could give me a dose of Your time, so I'd have more time and then we'd have more time?

"It's hard to confuse Me, but I admire and am admittedly amused by that attempt."

Ha! I love Your sense of humor ya know?

"I love yours too."

I suppose thinking I could even comprehend Your time is silly. It's really pretty silly to think I could actually go "all Thoreau" on the world and rid my life of all the 'stuff' too.

Right?

I mean, that's where You're leading me isn't it?

"I'm simply listening. You seem capable of finding your path."

See! That's one of the other things I really love about our talks...I feel like they clear my thinking.

"The feelings you create that bring you joy, bring Me joy."

So...I mean I don't wanna take up too much of Your time...I

"Let's not revisit the time thing."

Okay, alright...but You know, well, of course You know what I mean. Well, what I'm getting to...or ...uh...well it's that maybe...sor...er...I mean not maybe. I mean the answer is definitely not ridding my life of everything... of all the 'stuff' that seems to be between us.

Hello?

"I'm still listening...always. Remember?"

Ha! Of course, sor...er but You gotta admit that I'm flyin' a little blind here. I mean I can't see Your reaction to what I'm sayin' and all... I mean if someone were watching me right now they'd think I was talking to myself.

Crazy guy.

Nutso.

You're leavin' me hangin' here for fun...aren't You?

Got it...silly train of thought that's already been covered.

But that's the thing...it's all this silly stuff that I let in the way.

"I see the stuff. All the stuff."

I know, I'm sor...I mean thank You so much for tolerating my babbling. I know what I need to do now...I think. I mean I'm sure I know.

"That pleases me greatly."

Wow! What a concept... me pleasing You!

I forgot what I was going to sa...no I didn't. ....The answer is all the silly stuff stuff!

"The silly stuff stuff.

Do you think that might need a bit more fine tuning?"

Well, truthfully I was going to say 'stupid' stuff stuff but...well...um...anyway, I've got your point. Poor choice of words. What I'm trying to say is that the stuff isn't the problem... the stuff is the solution!

I don't need to get rid of it...I need to share it!

All of it.

"Sharing the silly stuff stuff is the solution."

Hey, now You're just mockin' me ...you know what I'm getting at.

Okay...okay...fleshing it out...got it.

You are always here right?

"I am with you always."

Exactly! But until I let You be with me AND all my silly stuff, I'm not always entirely with You!

I should be letting You in on my fears and frustrations, asking You for guidance about the bills, the car repairs, work, health...family. The big stuff, the little stuff...all the silly and not so silly stuff.

I know I'm babbling again, but the more I share with You the more we are together and talking...and...ya know...having a real relationship. So..um...uh...well, I suppose that's it.

I need to share my stuff...with You.

Whether that makes sense to anybody but me is, as always, debatable.

Not to be pushy, but I really think some acknowledgment on Your part is due here....

"I apologize. I was smiling.
Your thought process really is quite amusing.

Hmm...

I am glad you've come to this conclusion. We will make a good team. Let's conquer the silly stuff! I'm going to enjoy this...we're going to enjoy this!"

Great! And thank you!

Um...and not just thanks for agreeing to helping me deal with all my stuff, but thanks for listening too.

"The listening thing is a two way street."

Ha! True..so true. Anyway, we'll talk more soon. Thanks again!

Oh!

One last thing.

"Yes?"

Happy Father's day!

Church On Unfinished Road

2009-05-30T07:06:00.003-05:00

Our houses are such unwieldy property that we are often imprisoned rather than housed in them. - Henry David Thoreau

"Why here?"

That was the first of many questions tumbling through his mind after he chose to follow that apparently hand scrawled sign he had driven past all week, each time accelerating his curiosity.

At first blush, it certainly lived up to the name...except maybe the "Church" part.

There was no "church"...there was no building...no pulpit...no 'Official Greeters'...no children's check-in and certainly no signs.

There were no musicians that he could see. Heck, there was probably no Pastor.

When he found himself looking around for an 'order of worship' he almost broke out laughing.

He was habitually early to everything, but even so there was already no parking, not only had plenty of people already gathered, but there was no organized parking and no attempt at it. There was no seating, or rather seats. People were sitting on rocks and dirt clumps or simply sprawled out in the middle of this tiny incomplete rocky lane cutting into what would eventually be a subdivision like thousands of others throughout the city.

No one had a blanket, or folding chair....not even a tarp. It was rocks and dirt and all that usually includes, like bugs and stuff of nature that you never seem to notice but which always makes you itchy later.

He noticed something else was lacking: shoes...no one had on shoes.

Shoes were scattered at the entrance to the jagged pitiful pretense of a road, or sitting atop people's cars that were parked all akimbo either in nearby fields or on adjacent - civilized by cement - thoroughfares.

It wasn't like he was dressed for high church, but he wasn't relishing the idea of negotiating the bramble in his flip flops, the idea of tossing them and the meager protection they provided from thorns, sticks, sharp rocks, and all that other itchy nature stuff didn't heighten his enthusiasm. It did make him question his sanity though.

It was barely 7:00 a.m. and it was already warm enough to work up a sweat while simply ambling through the scrub brush from his car and trying to find a place to sit...or squat.

He was a little surprised to see all the children. They were all sitting with their families...apparently happily. None of them running about.

"Then again," he thought at about the same time he was wondering when he last had a Tetanus shot, "take away their shoes on this ground and that pretty much solves the 'pay attention in church lil' Johnny' issue."

He stumbled forward, and was fairly certain now the congregation had more than its fair share of gnats, and probably mosquitoes.

"Keep moving and get comfortable kid. We don't have all day and this service always starts on time."

The authoritative voice came from behind him.

He turned to see an older gent who would be considered distinguished were it not for the overalls and lack of shoes.

"Get comfortable?"

Was he joking?

==================
Authors note: This idea has been keeping me awake at night, so I figured I would start writing it down. I'm making no "to be continued" promises. If you're uncomfortable with that...maybe that's how it should be.

The Easy Way To Spot A Web Geek

2009-05-29T06:41:00.002-05:00

Where Giants Grow

2009-05-20T20:09:00.002-05:00

Author's note:
Please see previous these posts: 1 & 2 in that order. Hopefully this may make some sense.
However I'm not making any promises.

Additional author's note: Obviously I did not write this as soon as I had hoped - life intervened - as happens far too often. I should have learned by now never to promise a "sequel" - However I did "start" writing this the day after Tim's funeral. It took me until now to realize how much I needed to finish what I started...it's part of the process I'm going through mentioned in other recent ramblings.

I watched Tim Awbrey more than I spoke with him. Sure, we had conversations over church pot luck meals, or while he supervised some project on church property, which usually meant putting his two strapping sons to work. His boys were top members of the Boy Scouts, and much of Tim and Fran's lives centered on the many activities associated with making certain their sons got the very most out of scouting...not necessarily badges or awards...but the values a program like the Boy Scouts reinforces.

He was also very active in his sons' athletic competitions. They were big kids...now they are big men.

Their roots, like Tim's and his sister Teketha's, are firmly entrenched in a tiny place in east-central Texas.

The Freyburg United Methodist Church was dedicated in 1879, but the original land for the building was sold to church trustees a couple of years prior to that, by one of the many German immigrant farmers who came to the area following the Civil War. They came looking for a place to plant roots....to grow their families and their crops. This is where their family values were also nurtured and nourished...and the foundation of a new legacy to their lineage was born.

The six acres of land upon which the church sits today was purchased for $48 dollars with only one stipulation: that it "be kept, maintained and disposed of as a place of ministry and membership."

And so it has been for 130 years.

In those days there was a "circuit" preacher who would pass through on a semi-regular basis. There weren't enough preachers or parishioners in Freyburg, or any one town nearby, to support a full-time pastor. Men called into the Lord's service split their time between any number of houses of worship...worshippers made due with God alone when there was no Pastor present. It was a system that worked well.

It still does.

These days, the Freyburg United Methodist Church, has...a circuit preacher...delivering sermons twice, sometimes three times, per month.

There is little else in Freyburg that I could discern from our brief visit, and still not many towns nearby - albeit I-10 does make travel much easier and distance is measured in different ways now.

Next to the church is a small cemetery, this is where Tim was laid to rest. It is impeccibly maintained by the devoted members of the church, as it has been since the need for such a place of peace and passing first arrived, probably not long after the first settlers.

Despite the proximity to a coast to coast highway, you have to know that you are going to Freyburg to get there. There is one exit off the freeway, and it leads to a farm to market road...and that road leads to the church, and to a field neatly filled with gravestones and memories.

I was struck by how, in so many ways, our busy world has not intruded into the tranquility and tradition of Freyburg. Beyond some basic restoration work, like painting, the church is much the same as it was when first erected (they got rid of the outhouse a few years ago). You can envision people worshiping there today much as they did 100 years ago.

As we stood by her brother Tim's grave, Teketha pointed to the land on the other side of the church and said that area was once her family's dairy farm.

And it all made sense to me. Here I was standing in Freyburg, Texas...a town you could miss even if you had a map, but I was surrounded by men, women and children some of whom had driven through the night from Oklahoma to attend the funeral near San Antonio and then another hundred miles or so for this brief graveside service.

This was family in the strongest sense of the word.

A big family, perhaps technically not all "related," but family nonetheless. These were people united in the values which had been gently planted, caressed and had taken root more than a century earlier here in tiny Freyburg, Texas.

Like the crops planted by those original settlers, those values and traditions had been nurtured, and nourished. Only the the source of nourishment differed...the blood of Christ.

The work ethic, those traditions and values are still standing strong in the family to this day and I suspect they will continue to flourish for generations to come...all because of the intentional devotion and vision of men and women in tiny Freyburg, Texas more than a century ago.

You brought a vine out of Egypt; you drove out the nations and planted it.- Psalm 80:8

Welcome Back...Sanity

2009-05-20T13:20:00.006-05:00

I have been overwhelmed lately...that's putting it mildly. Amy's health, my health, my job, our spiritual lives, life in general...I don't seem to be in a place I want to be.

I've been in this place before, albeit many years ago and I learned there is only one way to dig myself out, and that's through some radical change.

Some changes I can't speak of here because I need to finalize them. Some changes I've already made. More are coming.

Some 20 years ago I looked in the mirror and thought to myself, "This is not the man I want to be." At that point, I embarked on a process to change. It worked. I put my faith in God and abandoned most everything I knew in my life.

Each morning (if you can call 1 a.m. morning) these days I find myself looking in the mirror and saying much the same thing.

So I'm getting out.

Out of the life patterns that I feel are disingenuous, time consuming, and most of all not fulfilling my purpose in God's eyes.

Some of these changes are easy. I deleted my Facebook account, where I was spending far too much time doing too little. Staying in contact with people who for the most part play no role in my life today.

The others who are important in my life, I will reach out to individually.

The "creative" me is being resurrected. I think that's a key. My job, quite frankly, has become much like factory work. There's no creativity involved, no inspiration, but there's a paycheck. In these days the latter is important although certainly not something I worship.

Amy and I have been in discussions for some time about what is best for me, and her, and us. We haven't come to a conclusion (although Amy might have) but I know this much, I need to find outlets for my God-inspired talents.

I'm going to spend the next week or two in fasting and prayer.

Hopefully God will show me how best to utilize my abilities and find a place, be it physical, mental or spiritual, where I can serve Him and not simply kill time.

The upside, I suspect I'll be writing more...admittedly to some of you that may not be an upside.

I'm culling the crap...focusing on the future...and praying for guidance.

I'll keep you posted on my progress.

A Guide To Avoiding HDTV Hype

2009-05-15T18:31:00.010-05:00

I promise I will get back to the story of Freyburg later this weekend. However I wanted to pass along this consumer tip which I've been meaning to mention for a while, so indulge me if you will.

Honestly this likely won't apply to you, but it might apply to your Mom or Grandma and can save you or them some serious money.

Presumably you're aware that all TV stations already have or will change to broadcasting only in High Definition on June 12th. There is a lot of advertising from cable and satellite companies urging folks to "sign up now" because otherwise you won't be able to watch any shows.
That's true...unless you or your Mom or Grannie...only watches LOCAL TV.

If that's the case, get a coupon for 40 bucks off an HD converter from the government at this website. Then, don't subscribe to ANY service ever again! In fact if you're subscribing to basic cable now just for local TV...cancel it now! Most stations are already broadcasting in HD and the converters will pick up old fashioned TV signals in the interim anyway.

HD signals are "over the air" and they're free. If you invest in a converter box (I bought one today at Best Buy using my $40 coupon and the total cost was 16 bucks)you can get ALL the local channels plus more for FREE on that same old crappy TV you've had for years.

I tested this on an old TV I bought 25 years ago. I hooked up the converter box and used the rabbit ears on the TV.

The process took about 5 minutes.

Now? Now it receives not only all the local channels, but some "side band" channels which aren't available via our satellite service or the local cable company...and the picture is fabulous...as good as cable if not better.

Again, this is only for folks who don't want 200 TV channels, it's for people who only watch the local channels. At most, you might have to invest in a powered rabbit ear antenna depending on where you position your TV and you might have to occasionally adjust the rabbit ears . If you have a rooftop or outdoor antenna, that you've been too lazy to take down...good for you! You're already golden!

I was stunned at how good the picture is, and how many channels that ancient little TV now receives.

If you or someone you know watches just the local channels, you can actually save money and get a better picture by NOT subscribing to cable or satellite. It's not HD...but it is a digital signal nonetheless and I'll bet you'll be surprised. You can still hook up a DVD player or VCR...but you can cut the cable and the associated costs. Maybe you can save that money to buy an HDTV...then you can hook the rabbit ears up to it and get all the local HDTV channels for free in HD...if that's what you want.

I don't know....maybe everyone already knows this and that's why I don't hear folks mentioning this option...but in these economic times, I thought I'd take a moment to pass it along.

Of course, if you want HDTV and the latest greatest picture and the earthworm channel plus the greatest reruns of bad movies pay channels...God bless you...the economy needs you to spend money. However if you think HDTV is something you have to have, and have to pay for even if you don't think you need it or want it...well, don't buy into the hype.

People who only want a TV for the local news and weather or major network TV shows can save significant cash right now. You'll never get a cable bill again...or have to skip past the Australian Rules Log Throwing channel.

If money is tight or if you're one of the folks who doesn't really want your MTV or more TV of any form...my advice is this: Take the "avoid the HDTV hype exit"...bypass the Australian rules cricket channel. Coast to High Def along the low tech road.

This ends today's public service announcement...we now return you to regular programming.

Tim Duncan- All Star Record

2009-05-14T01:26:00.000-05:00

This is a post to prove a point...

This is a direct steal from News Radio 1200 WOAI.

A story posted by Jim Forsyth.

This is only the first paragraph.

Duncan's All-NBA Honors Set Record

12th All Star nomination
By Jim Forsyth
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Tim Duncan made NBA history today, becoming the first player in the history of the league to be named to an All-NBA team in all of his first 12 seasons in the league, 1200 News Radio WOAI news reports.

Big Tim's Time...and Tradition's Truth

2009-05-09T18:56:00.003-05:00

I initially wasn't going to write any more about the passing of the old friend mentioned casually in the previous post. Yet after attending his funeral and graveside service where Amy gave voice and melody to such a clear message from God, I feel compelled to write more...although I'm not sure exactly where it's going.

That means one thing to you: Be afraid, be very afraid.

I do know two things, the first of which is that I won't finish this tale tonight, it's been a long day. Secondly, this story starts with our friends Teketha and Gordon Wise.

Gordon and Teketha were for some time active members of the small church we attended and during those years we shared a lot.

Teketha loves hymns...Amy loves singing. Gordon, like many folks in small churches, was roped into overseeing various "volunteer" jobs only to find there weren't many, if any, other "volunteers" around - something I learned at that church as well.

We both had to come to grips and then learn to embrace a certain sense of disillusionment in that fact...something which actually probably helped us build a stronger relationship with God, while putting "church" in proper perspective.

Teketha and Gordon's daughter Kim had some prolonged and very frightening health concerns which at one point coincided with one of Amy's extended medical mysteries that required hospitalization. Kim and Amy were in fact in the same hospital for what seemed like an eternity. Soon all of us, including Kim's husband Brad and their young daughter, Lauren, were spending a lot of time together in a place none of us wanted to be (with the possible exception of Gordon whom I'm fairly sure you could toss into an arena full of lawyers, televangelists, life insurance and used car salesmen and he wouldn't complain,as long as Lauren was included in the mix).
As I recall, Lauren quite possibly had the 411 on "grandpa Gordon training" before Lauren herself was potty trained.

In any case, during that season in our lives we shared our fears, our prayers, and quite often our tears.

Such circumstances I wish upon no one, but - as is often the case with God - the net result was something we didn't anticipate or even realize until some time later...we had come to know one another on a different level than with our other friendships.

As usual, God had a plan. As always, at that time I was completely clueless about it.

It didn't stop there by any means, Teketha is a very strong willed woman and there were other times when Amy was having major health problems that Teketha took it upon herself to be concerned about me. I mean this in the nicest sense possible, but I would describe her approach as something akin to a "reverse Mama Corleone." Any answer I gave her that wasn't, "Yes, I'll come to dinner" or "Yes, I really do need some help" was an answer she would refuse.

Teketha and Gordon's care and feeding of me - their ability to see right through my best bogus blatherings of independence - was something I desperately needed and I firmly believe they were God's conduit for "getting it done." I'm honestly not sure that I would have made it through those times, had Teketha not been so...um...firm in her concern.

That is the background.

Hey, I warned you!

"Rambling ahead!" remember?

I'll write the more pertinent aspects of these thoughts on Sunday and this is how that chapter will begin...

Teketha's brother, Tim Awbrey was a big, big man. He could be ~~wildly~~ slightly intimidating.

But once you saw him flash that huge grin, you soon realized he had an even bigger heart. At that point, the "fear factor" quickly faded. He was a man who was surrounded by people who loved him...for good reason. He gave his all to everything he did, including loving others.

On Wednesday night, that giant heart within a giant of a man gave out...and today we said our goodbyes.

Tomorrow, I'll be honored to share more of what I knew about Tim Awbrey and what I learned today about his family and the foundations upon which God steadies such mighty men.

You see, solid souls often spring forth from the smallest seeds...and with a little reflection, I believe, we can find deep lessons about ourselves within such knowledge.

Tim Awbrey
1950 - 2009

A Handy Reprise

2009-05-08T04:33:00.003-05:00

Author's note: This may sound familiar to some...with good reason.
Previously posted in 2003

I just got back from the church where a friend and I did some mowing and then "assisted" in the moving of a large metal storage shed onto the property. Describing my role as "assisting" is really a stretch. Several young men and the husky dad of two of them came with a trailer, tools, tie downs, and trucks. We caravaned over to the home of the couple donating the shed and then I pretty much got out of the way. Oh, I helped lift and move it a few feet, but really the work was done by the other guys. The guy guys. These are guys who can tune up a car engine, change their own oil, fix stuff. They have pickups, and toolboxes the size of my car. They grunt. They spit. They grumble and look scornfully if you use a piece of equipment improperly and they reminisce about how they shared near death experiences involving power tools. When they hear the term "field dress", the image that pops into their minds has nothing to do with a garment worn by a character on "Little House on the Prairie."

They are entrenched in good standing in the "all things male" club.

I would never get past the membership committee.

"Are you now or have you ever been handy?"

"No."

When I remarked that the shed looked pretty secure on the trailer long before it had been tied down with multiple crisscrossed two inch by 27 foot ratchet straps tested to 10,000 pound breaking strength, one of the guys looked at me warily and said, "I was hauling freight over the Rockies when I was 18, I learned a few things!"

With visions of Conestoga wagons and the Donner party swirling by, I waved the white flag.

"Are you now or have you ever been handy?"

"No."

I don't know when I strayed off the testosterone trail. Actually, I'm not really sure I was ever on it.

I truly wish I was adept at some of these things, but I've accepted the fact that I'm not...and I'm not ever going to be.

Our friends moved last week and Amy was helping them. During that process, I stopped by to drop something off and saw that Amy was taking the doors off their refrigerator so that it would fit through the doorway.

"Are you now or have you ever been handy?"

"No... but is there any chance I could join the club on my wife's membership?"

====
I wrote this piece almost six years ago. I'm repeating it now because yesterday an old friend stopped by tell me that the big burly guy I mentioned in this piece as having "hauled freight over the Rockies" had died. He was a big bear of a man...with a big heart. Tomorrow Amy will sing as we serenade him to Heaven, where I'll bet he's already doing God's heavy lifting.

In All The Hoopla

2009-05-04T07:02:00.001-05:00

In all the media hoopla over the White House dog...and now swine flu...I some how missed this important addition to American culture...Jello sculptures.

The White House in Jello...marking the president's first 100 days.

No punchline needed.

The One News Story O' The Day

2009-04-27T03:42:00.003-05:00

Undoing the Stock Market Mess - Price $28

2009-04-21T14:29:00.004-05:00

The best deal on Craigslist in San Antonio..

Seeking Reason to Time Travel (San Antonio)
________________________________________
Reply to: comm-bj4zp-1123674588@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-04-15, 12:20PM CDT
I am a scientist and an Oprah-hater. Her proclivity to bestow audience members with gifts is revolting. I detest her fake generosity. Therefore, I have created a time machine to "one-up" her by not only wrecking numerous previous shows, but creating many history changes of my own.

Because I am truly a selfless and generous person, I am opening up my travels to do my own good deeds for those who desire. If you have something in your past you would like to be modified, please email me and I will do my best. First name, location, approximate time, and brief details of the incident are required. Charge is $28, I will appear next to you shortly after you send your email and you can pay me then.

Questions welcome. Please understand this is not a joke.
: Location: San Antonio
: it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

----
And you don't have to pay until Houdini appears...

I'll let ya know when he appears....assuming you don't disappear after he does.

Clever Kid

2009-04-20T20:49:00.003-05:00

My son/stepson is the video/media genius at the Vineyard Church in Columbus, Ohio.

He does some awfully clever stuff.

You don't see church announcements presented this way too often.

Cute

2009-04-13T04:04:00.001-05:00

The Stuff I Miss On TV

2009-04-10T07:02:00.001-05:00

Overdue Underwear & Other Stuff

2009-03-23T12:07:00.004-05:00

Okay, so I'm a little overdue for an update..."a little" being a very expandable phrase depending if you're a long term thinker or a short term kinda person.

Yes, I know I never wrote the second part of the Puerto Vallarta adventure...which is probably why I haven't written anything lately. I learned long ago never to promise "more to come"...sometimes I get in the "moment" and the moment fails to transcend my intentions. Sorry.

Suffice it to say Uncle Bobby was alive and well and we could flush the toilet paper.
If you want to see a bunch of photos from the "Flying Blind Faith Tour" they're posted at this link. I especially like the photo of the artists preparing for Valentine's day...but that's just me...sometimes such sentiments make me all misty...

The thought that I'd been really bad about keeping the blog updated crossed my mind yesterday when something called "Blogshares" informed me that this blog had been "delisted" from the "Blogshares exchange" and I was out about a zillion blogshare bucks, which I'm assuming are worth nothing. I'm sure years ago when I actually wanted to promote this blog rather than hide it, I signed up for blogshares. I don't remember. In any case I wrote them back saying that they had the old web address for the blog, if that made any difference in regards to their decision. I received a prompt reply, "No."

I suspect if I actually had a link to "blogshares" on here it would change their mind....but I'm already out a zillion worthless blogshare bucks or euros (I suspect they're French) so why bother? If people really have that much time to waste on the internet they need to find a life...or facebook.

I suppose I should update a few other things.

1. Amy's health - She's doing okay, some days better than others. We're both trying to be a little more health minded. We had a few scares in recent months, the drama of which I opted not to post here. One hospital stay caused primarily by an incompetent "rent a nurse" weekend staff at North East Methodist Hospital in San Antonio. I was going to fire off letters to the "Joint Commission" and the Texas Board of Medical Examiners. I did raise hell in the hospital to the point where I noticed a very friendly security guard always seemed to bump into me whenever I entered the hospital and hung around like a good buddy until I left. It's not like my middle name is "Wayne"....but I toyed with him a little because I'm easily amused that way.

However I have better things to do than save people from nurses and doctors who are incompetent, so I never got around to firing off the angry letters that would prevent more medical malpractice from taking place at NorthEast Methodist Hospital in San Antonio. I'm busy. I'm on facebook.

That's not really by choice, I developed that little "News Widget" that's over on the left hand side of the blog, and I joined facebook with the sole intent of getting that "application" approved by the facebook genies. I never have gotten it to work on facebook, but while trying I've been "friended" by 60 or 80 people, most of whom I'm related to or I have no idea who they are whatsoever but I feel guilty turning down someone's request to "be my friend." It's like kicking Mr. Rogers in the shin...although since he always took off his shoes I'm presuming that would be sort of expected when you were around him, so a kick in the shins would probably hurt me more than him...certainly it would now considering he's below room temperature and all.

I guess in this update I should admit that Amy and I didn't really abandon our "Upper Room Ministry."

Some months/years/decades ago - whenever I last wrote on that topic - I believe I was rather firm in saying, "Never again...not gonna happen...I've lost my faith in mankind...people are scum...I have guns." Something like that at least.

Well you can only waddle along with your posterior puckered for so long before God whaps you on the back of the head like Jethro Gibbs in "NCIS" (a TV show I've become way too fond of by the way).

After all my speechifyin' and pronouncements, God pretty much dropped a couple of people in our laps and said, "Go ahead be an (insert anatomical slang here) but these people need you!"

Well, I've always been a believer that when God kicks you in the...posterior you should probably get up off your...um...posterior.

God was actually gentle with us, considering the psychopaths we had tried to help previously.

We housed a fine young man who was in a military program here with the Coast Guard. The astute among the two or three people who read this might realize there's not a big Coast Guard contingent in San Antonio since San Antonio lacks....well, it lacks a coast. Anyway, he was in a training program where the only people with him were competing for the same Coast Guard position as he was and it didn't make for a lot of fellowship. His wife and kids were in Florida and by a pure "God Thing" he came to live with us for a month or two - I can never remember, Amy always has to tell me how long people lived in our house....that's especially embarrassing with our own kids but that's another story.

Anyway, Amy met this young man's Mom last summer in Ohio and heard her mention San Antonio...that started a yak fest...and of course Amy said that if her son in San Antonio ever needed anything she should call.

Do I really need to write this out? Suffice it to say that months later, she (the mom) called me, we ended up rescuing this guy from the dungeon-like barracks at Fort Sam. He came and stayed with us...doing amazing things, like cleaning. Finished his course work, got his family moved into base housing at a local Air Force Base and presumably they've been living happily ever after... that's if you try real hard to forget they owned a home in Florida which they bought before the real estate market turned to swampland.

I figured that situation worked out nicely. A happy ending...man and family reunited...we were able to provide him with a family environment rather than an institutional one, and he cleaned stuff.

Not long after came Amy...not my Amy...Amy "Dos" as I called her. A very pleasant young woman from Indiana who was looking for a place to stay for a few months until she could tie the knot with her Air Force fiance, Captain Andy, who is stationed about 19 yards from our house. Amy "Dos" is a nutritionist. She taught me that just because it says "Wheat Bread" that doesn't mean it's good for you or that it has wheat or is even bread...and she cleaned stuff.

We had regular dinners together with Amy Dos and Captain Andy, Amy (my Amy) got all aflutter as women do when weddings start drawing near. Today Captain and Mrs. Andy are on an abbreviated honeymoon...they were married last night around sunset.

This is the way the "Upper Room Ministry" is supposed to work. We help someone or some family during a time when they need a little breathing room...and then they embark on a new season of their lives. In between they clean stuff.

In truth, that's been the case with everyone who has lived with us...they've all gone on to "new seasons"...a couple of them the new season of "America's Most Wanted."

In any case, we're back to empty nest mode until God whaps us on the head again - or Amy goes surfing on "Craigslist."

In the interim, I know this much...I can feel free to sit here at my laptop in my makeshift office and type in my underwear.

Yeah, I know...that's a visual you could have lived without, but I really figured you'd stop reading this by now.

It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect - Psalm 18:32

Political Hot Air or IPhone App?

2009-03-11T08:31:00.002-05:00

This apparently happened some months ago, but the video is now all the rage on blogs and elsewhere.

It's from the City Council meeting in Medina, Ohio.

You'll note in a recent post that there are any number of rather silly applications for the IPhone...one being:"IFart."

Whether it's a case of gas or someone with an IPhone will be left up to the finger ~~pullers~~ pointers.

Maybe City Hall has a dog they can blame it on.

And They Said It Wouldn't Last...

2009-03-04T03:16:00.003-06:00

The traditional gift for a 15th wedding anniversary is crystal. I'm not sure what we'd do with crystal, except notice the dust on it.

I do have a crystal clear vision of the past 15 years. They've all been blessings.

Sure we have struggled at times, fallen, disappointed one and other, and at times doubted our sanity...but we struggled together, we helped each other up, we forgave each other and we finally realized we are both nuts. What more could I ask for?

I adore you my darling, Amy.

I can promise I'll disappoint and fail and struggle in the years ahead...but I'll also love you with all my heart.

Thank you for 15 wonderful years.

"Your people are my people, your God is my god; where you die, I'll die and that's where I'll be buried, so help me God - not even death itself is going to come between us!" - Ruth 1:16-17 (MSG)

Me, Mark Cuban, and Cameras

2009-02-27T08:00:00.059-06:00

I had a little fun yesterday at Dallas Maverick's owner Mark Cuban's expense - heck, he can afford it. Our once affiliated TV station picked up the story and I ended up doing an interview...of which perhaps 4 seconds was used. However it was worth it for two reasons:

1. Maybe I can get Cuban to buy the website I bought from under him, IFellInTheRiverwalk.com.

2. The video of the story (it's very short) certainly proves that I have a face for radio and the adage that the camera adds 10 pounds is most assuredly true.

I just didn't realize they had four or five cameras running...

P.S...Speaking of running...I haven't figured out how to bejigger the javascript on this thing...so it keeps repeating. Hit the stop button. I could spend the day playing with the code or I could do something productive and just tell you to stop it when it becomes annoying. Believe me, you'll know when.

From The Houston Chronicle

2009-02-24T07:32:00.002-06:00

I don't know...I found it funny.

Pardon the interruption

2009-02-17T04:46:00.003-06:00

I'll get around to writing more about Puerto Vallarta...um..."soon."
Something else is more important right now....and will always be.

My bride of nearly 15 years.

Happy Birthday Mrs. Main.

I love you today...and always.

The Flying Blind Faith Tour -Part One

2009-02-06T14:17:00.006-06:00

This was one of those sort of unplanned, "the opportunity was there," type of vacations. Amy's parents invited us to join them on a trip to"old" Puerto Vallarta where we could stay for "free" at an apartment which Amy's Uncle Bobby has been renting for a few weeks over the past several years.

Ignoring all the news stories I had recently written about Americans being warned by the State Department not to travel to Mexico...we went for it - especially after Amy managed to book us on an amazingly low cost "promo" flight. It just worked out that exactly when this idea came up an airline called VivaAerobus was initiating service from Austin to Puerto Vallarta. I think we spent more money at the very limited snack bar at the airport terminal than we did for our tickets.

Usually on family adventures I've grown accustomed to having an itinerary, but for this trip it was different...we not only lacked an itinerary, there was a certain vagueness about exactly where we were staying, the airline was certainly an unknown entity, and we weren't in constant communication with our "host"...in fact we really hadn't been in communication with him at all since we agreed to visit. So we winged it....thus the moniker "Flying Blind Faith Tour."

It was wonderful but like all adventures...it had some twists and turns.

Unlike other popular resort areas in Mexico, Puerto Vallarta - at least in the area where we stayed - was very low key. We weren't constantly barraged by guys hawking time shares, probably because the city has actually leased a big chunk of the airport to time share salesmen. You can't get to a taxi without running the gauntlet of these very determined individuals who will say just about anything to get you to stop. I tried to rustle our little band of "touristas" past them and was mercifully only delayed briefly by one huckster who claimed he was a "Government Agent" and insisted I must stop to discuss our travel plans. I've actually been in jail in Mexico (another story for another day) but once I eyed the porpoise on the guy's badge we fearlessly sidestepped him without dredging up any "Midnight Express-type" memories.

We weren't like other folks going to resorts, we were going to an apartment and all we had was a street address. Our cab driver, whom we quickly discerned was a novice at driving a standard transmission, gave us a thrilling ride across the cobblestone streets of the city and managed to sputter to a stop "near" the address we had in hand. He couldn't take us to the exact address....because of his driving skills, and "the hill."

That photo doesn't do it justice. It was a steep climb, especially with luggage.

~~Dripping with sweat~~ Slightly invigorated, we managed to make it to the door of the apartment units, only to find several notes taped to the gates from Uncle Bobby who evidently expected us to arrive several days earlier. The notes had a slightly distressed tone to them, "Waited for you for a while...went to the beach."

Bobby did leave us instructions in one of the notes on how to get a gatekeeper to let us in and we eventually convinced her we were not marauding burglars carrying luggage. She let us into his apartment.

It was gorgeous.

As we scoped out the view and made sure there were working bathrooms, we came upon another note from Uncle Bobby. This one was rather long and had a distinct lack of that laid back "Jimmy Buffett" tone. I won't go into details, but it essentially said that Bobby had to leave immediately, go back to the states and we were on our own. Enjoy and "Hasta la vista."

I had never met Uncle Bobby so I wasn't certain whether this was expected behavior or if we should worry that he took those State Department travel warnings more seriously than we did. I didn't have time to ponder that idea because within minutes we discovered his passport and other necessary travel items were still in the apartment. He couldn't have left the country...at least not under his own name.

Suddenly I felt like I was a character in a bad Kinky Friedman novel.

Where was Bobby? And was it okay to flush the toilet paper?

To be continued....when I get around to it.

Alas I still have a lingering of that "manana" mentality.

When The Family Shrinks

2009-01-21T20:01:00.004-06:00

It's been a long week and it's only Wednesday. All the inaugeral hoopla, a little bout with some bug, some very deep cuts at my company and plans for a quick trip to Mexico (I think - have to post on that if I become convinced anyone in our little band of asylum escapees actually knows where we're going) have made for some restless nights.

The economy has been tough on everyone...this week it hit home with my "work" family...Yes, I'm still employed (they're never going to find someone to work my hours for as little money) but some people I've worked with a long time were "broomed."

This is hopefully the worst it will get, but I've seen a lot of strange things and odd decisions in the broadcasting biz over the past three decades or so.

To my friends who are no longer my co-workers...know you are missed. Also know careers do not define who you are.

I have been blessed to see many of my "work family" members at a level that goes far beyond work.

The path may have taken a twist...but our relationships bend with the seasons.

Bless you my friends...we'll talk more when and if I return from or go to Mexico.

Goodbye Mr. Bush

2009-01-15T07:09:00.007-06:00

President Bush is preparing to make his farewell address to the nation tonight. I for one will miss him, not only because I do not regret voting for the man, twice. I think history will portray him in a far different light than today's media.

I met George W. Bush long before he ran for public office, when he showed his temper a bit more, and I witnessed his transformation over the years as he allowed God into his life by pushing some other things out of day to day existence. I saw him accomplish amazing things while Governor, crossing political boundaries where many others feared to tread. I watched him tear up when talking to a relatively small group of reporters about how important it was to change our state's adoption system...to find children homes.

I saw the softer side.

However I will confess that a part of me will miss President Bush for purely selfish reasons. As a radio guy, I will miss some of the wonderful words he made up, like "misunderestimate" as well as the many times I was able to watch members of my family cringe as he pronounced the word "nuclear." Like "misunderestimate" - which he said so often it actually is now listed as acceptable in some dictionaries, his pronunciation of nuclear is also now "accepted"....by some linguistic nerds who decide such things.

The President of the modern era of the 24 hour news cycle is almost always being recorded by someone. I shudder to think what type of compilation of flubs could be made from my rambling remarks on a day to day basis were I in the same position. Mercifully, most of the time I screw up on the radio I am able to edit out my errors.

I believe President Bush has left our country safer, I believe he honestly tried to restore integrity to a place where such a task might not be possible. Make no mistake, I supported the man eight years ago and I still do today.

That being said, I also know he has a sense of humor...so I hope he will forgive me for posting here just a few of the "classic Bush-isms" recorded for all time...I'll remember him for these too and remember him fondly.

Come back to Texas Mr. Bush...some of us still speak your language.

Harlan, I Promise One Day I'll Respond

2009-01-08T07:58:00.004-06:00

*Disclaimer: The title of this post is completely unrelated to the contents.*

I have an email folder called "Blog Fodder."

This I'm sure is thrilling information for you, but I actually have a point, whether I get to it is anyone's guess.

That little folder is where I direct emails to myself containing stuff I might want to mention on my blog. This can be a news story, a picture, a memory, an occasional inspirational thought, a biblical lesson, or a reminder of a bad odor. It's pretty much a Pandora's box of my head clutter.

Today for instance I spotted this news clipping...although clipping might be the wrong word. The former finance director for Lakeview Weslyan Church and its Christian school in Indiana has been charged with stealing nearly $300,000 from church accounts.
Prosecutors say he spent the money on all sorts of things....including about 800 bucks that paid for his vasectomy. That's money you can't get back, but all things considered it's probably money well spent.

A couple of weeks ago I vowed I would slog through some of the older items and get rid of some of the clutter in my blog fodder folder - sort of like when you finally decide you are really going to clean the garage. I started wading in hoping my tetanus shot was up to date and then got derailed by silly little things, like Amy's health, our daughter's wedding, relatives coming into town, a new house guest taking refuge with us for a while.

So I'm trying again... the end result of this literary expulsion may be profound, poetic or even considered prose - however were I you, I'd take "the under" and bet on more of a mental demolition derby without announcers or even car numbers to at least explain the lunacy. Nothing is off limits including the kitchen sink.

Actually that's not a kitchen sink, but the mention of a sink of any form doesn't bode well for the rest of this phrenological foray...unless of course you bet the under.

A few weeks ago they auctioned off virtually everything from Texas Stadium. It's eventually being torn down so Jerry Jones can make more money to help pay for his monolithic "new" stadium almost as large as his ego and really even bigger than his wallet. It's akin to a modern day Roman Coliseum, and the way the Cowboy's have performed lately gives more credence to that analogy.....substitute Christians for the Cowboys and just about any team for the lions, except the actual Detroit Lions who apparently don't have the teeth for either game.

Anyway, that sink is the official "Dallas Cowboy's Head Coach's Sink" - used by greats like Tom Landry and lesser men.

Still looks like a fairly plain sink to me.

It sold as did almost every piece of Texas stadium including urinals from the team locker room.

Not sure how many they sold or for how much, but the listing did mention to remember that, "There is no 'P' in team." Presumably the NFL drug testers didn't sanction that slogan.

I was elsewhere while folks were bidding on the "Throne of Champions" - yes, an entire locker room toilet stall - no, I'm not putting up a photo. It's a toilet. Big sweaty men sat on it for a lot of years. Someone paid a lot of money for it I'm sure.

Besides the obvious fact that much of Dallas will soon be adorned with bits of Texas stadium, making it unsafe to visit anyone in or near "Big D" lest you be surprised to find they are the proud owners of a towel rack once used by Luis Zendejas, the auction was disturbing to me because I was at another auction as the Jerry Jones Wallet-A-Thon one was going on. I was at a fundraiser for a San Antonio charity called the:

I try to take part every year. Our radio stations band together and we broadcast for a couple or three days round the clock asking folks to give money or come visit us and bid on "silent" auction items - which it's usually my job to hawk not so silently.

It's a wonderful organization that does wonderful work and it tugs at every string of your heart. Plus, as charities go, it's about as transparent as they come. Elf Louise has no paid employees, everyone is a volunteer; 98 cents of every dollar donated is spent directly on one thing: toys. Just for the record, the other 2 cents goes for insurance and sometimes warehouse costs. Every toy is given to an underprivileged kid in the San Antonio area by volunteers dressed as Santa and elves, who pay for their own gas.

Thanks to a little corporate leverage , Elf Louise has some buying power so they figure it costs an average of seven bucks to buy a brand new "good" toy for a child often expecting nothing, because that's often the only way their young lives have ever been. Little lives with low expectations.

Nothing was on sale at Texas Stadium for seven bucks...or for charity, unless you think Jerry Jones needs more money.

At the Elf-A-Thon I donated some time, some money and "bid" on one silent auction item not thinking I'd win since I was the first bidder. I should have taken the under on that one too.

You may not be aware of this, but apparently there's not a real market for "Doggie Day Care."

I won a certificate good for three days of "Doggie Day Care" from what I'm sure is a wonderful place. What I'm not sure about is how I'd use it. I mean maybe we'll have a day when we'll want to take one of our three dogs to "day care" instead of our apparently out of fashion approach - we open the back door and say "get out..out..out! Then we leave them out there with food and water and their destructive tendencies until their barking makes us try to remember the last time a neighbor smiled at us.

Of course were we to take one of our dogs to "day care," jealousy might rear its ugly head. The certificate is good for "one" dog - I already thought of the idea of trying to convince these folks to take three dogs for one day instead of one for three.

No chance.

For one, there's a required doggie day care "pre-interview" our lucky dog and its owner must attend. Sitting through a doggie day care "pre-interview" with one of our rebellious hounds will probably have Amy and I promising each other almost anything to avoid...sitting through a "pre-interview" while trying to keep all three of our dogs from destroying Camp Ruff Ruff (not the real name) would be an impossible task and neither of us could promise the other enough to make it worthwhile to either.

Yes, the upside is that it will make the blog fodder folder should it happen.

Of course I'm also sort of nervous about showing one dog favoritism over another. Not that we don't already. I mean "Abby" has the run of the house, sleeps in the bed ~~half~~ almost all the time, chews on whatever she can find that is the most valuable, and is spoiled rotten. Yes, for those of you paying close attention (I can't imagine why) we did change her name from "Gabby" because the origins of that name were disturbing to us, much as was the person who bestowed the moniker upon her.

Back to the point, like someone is following this, I recently read that dogs can perceive when they're getting the short end of the stick or no stick to fetch at all. Apparently they actually get a p.o.'d - (note the urinal-theme foreshadowing) and become somewhat beligerant.

In short, researchers gave one group of dogs treats for doing a simple trick while training another group of dogs to perform the same trick. You got it, second group, all tricks but no treats. Soon, the second group not only stopped doing the trick, they refused to acknowledge the trainers existence for the most part, spending most of their time yawning, scratching, licking themselves - well, you get the idea.

Were we to take Abby to doggie day care - assuming this is a pleasant experience - I can envision Winston and Avery being completely disobedient.

Then again, that wouldn't be much of a change I guess.

The idea that dogs might experience emotions such as jealousy and to a degree a sense of retribution gave me pause to wonder if some folks might think twice about getting a dog in the future. What if they form a union or worse yet a political party - then no one would want one.

What would we do for companionship we could love and ignore depending on time constraints?

Thank goodness for the blog fodder folder.

Oh, and say,"Hello" to Aiko.

"Aiko" is a life-sized "Fembot" with amazing abilities as demonstrated in the video below.

The inventor of "Project Aiko" swears he has no plans to try to create a robotic girlfriend...he prefers to train her to be a "maid."

Call me suspicious, but with that attitude I suspect he's not going to find many girlfriends anyway.

Sigh....I barely dented my blog fodder file and I already have to go....dang urinal theme.

Just Like That

2009-01-03T09:22:00.013-06:00

The Present Of The Past

2008-12-25T09:07:00.012-06:00

I've been preoccupied lately. I started writing a blog post two weeks ago, trying to rid my "blog fodder" folder of some of the clutter, but ended up getting sidetracked by one project or another.

The biggest diversion has been a journey into my history.

Over Thanksgiving, Amy and I were at my Aunt Kathy's home in Dallas where we had a wonderful time and where I found two rather large boxes my Aunt had stashed away. Kathy has been exceedingly wonderful in helping preserve things from my family since my parents died in 1972. She had recently found the boxes on a top shelf of a closet. Kathy is rather petite so she didn't see the boxes often and hadn't really thought they contained anything but old check books and bank statements anyway.

When I brought them down I found they contained a treasure. Photos, letters, baby books (of my parents), newspaper articles, a Bible given to my mother, report cards, hand-written notes to me and my brothers and even a short story written by my mother... along with the rejection slip she received from a publisher.

Many of the photos are of people I fear I will never identify, very old - almost tintype - images of children, girls, women and men from long, long ago.

I've tracked down a few names - which is another story - and sent a bundle of stuff to each of my brothers

There were a lot of photos of my father, something I treasure because my Dad took up photography as a very intense hobby so most of the photographs I have do not include him - he was the guy behind the camera. Many candid shots from his boyhood, and his times in college, and at various points in his lifetime romance with my mother. Some photos are from what I'm sure were high points of my father's career in the newspaper industry.

Needless to say, wading through all of this material was exciting, heart-wrenching, and at times a bit emotional.

I promise I'll write more about some of my finds as time permits - assuming time eventually does permit such diversions.

What I wanted to share on this day are two discoveries - Christmas poems apparently sent out by my mother to family and friends. I know one was sent in 1969, but am uncertain as to the date of the other although I tend to believe it also was sent in either the late 60's or early 70's since I detect a sense of foreboding or worry about the future.

The poems, sent in lieu of Christmas cards or within them, do not mention the names of the authors. I'm fairly certain the 1969 poem was penned by my mother, the other - entitled "The Star of Hope" - I'm not quite as certain about, although I at least expect she added the final verse since it was set off slightly in the printing alignment.

It would seem strange my mother would send out poetry without attribution - she was a librarian and rather meticulous about such things. I have done a cursory search of the Internet without any luck finding this particular "Star of Hope" poem, but that certainly doesn't mean it couldn't be authored by someone famous or simply a stock sentiment from the card company - which is not identified on the card either.

I don't recall my parents being particularly religious, so these discoveries put my parents in a new light, as did many of the things I've found. It's been a delightful, sometimes shocking, and quite often humorous ancestral archaeological "dig' - not only through the various physical items, but also through my memories and emotions.

In any case on this Christmas Day 2008, I beg your indulgence as I reprint these words. No matter the author, no matter the dates they were written, the sentiments ring true.

First let me say, our wish for you this holiday season is that you will always cherish family, learn from history, hold your memories dear and love the God who loves you so very much.

Michael & Amy

GREETINGS, 1969
Chimes, bells, tinsel, and glitter,
Protest, strife, and racing to the moon,
The gap between generations --
Quo vadis, world?

The season to pause
And consider the meaning
Of this special time
Mankind celebrates Peace.

Peace On Earth?
Let us have it!
Goodwill to all men?
Yes, by all means!

But 'til miracles happen
And minds open to reason,
We'll use the old cliche
And wish you a happy holiday season.

The Mains
(in order of appearance)
Marvinel, Derek, Michael, Stan, and Floyd.

The Star Of Hope

Lest we concede that hope is lost
Let's all remember what the cost:
Tyrants reigned and martyrs died;
The faith of saints was sorely tried.

Then, "Lo, The Star!" Our Hope was born,
And lives, in spite of cross and thorn!
'Twas He who walked the waves at will
And bade the angry seas "Be Still!"

Think not the power of finite man
Can now destroy the Master's plan -
When that was tried at Calvary
The Victim won the victory.

Had we much gold 'twere yours for free,
But this poor poem will have to be
Our Christmas gift from us to thee.

The Mains
Undated - Author uncertain)

Someone Said This...On TV?

2008-12-11T06:28:00.001-06:00

Say it isn't so? Hype in the "News" business?

I'm shocked! Shocked I tell you! What's next? Corruption in Chicago politics?

Pardon The Dust

2008-12-01T12:47:00.002-06:00

We've been playing with some server changes and what better thing to screw up while testing the changes than my blog?

Really.

Anyway, I'm searching around for backups and toying with backgrounds and in the interim thinking, "Isn't there something more productive I could be doing?"

So this lil' blog o' mine may be shifting around, looking strange and periodically disappearing.

Just pretend the election isn't really over yet.

Big Ears, A Big Heart and A Big Life

2008-11-13T21:41:00.009-06:00

As I begin to write this, a friend of mine is dying...before I publish it, he will be dead.

I didn't always call him a friend. In fact during the time period when we actually were in daily contact, he was not in the "friend" category at all...he was my boss. We didn't hang out or share many interests. Except radio.

I wrote about him a little over a year ago. He was going toe to toe with cancer and determined to be the victor.

Our relationship blossomed into friendship during that battle over these past few years. We had some very good communications regarding things like fear, and faith, and God.

I didn't mention his name when I initially wrote about him. I was respecting his privacy.

---

Over the past 33 years or so in the radio industry, I have worked with a lot of people. I have crossed paths and swords with a lot of big egos, big voices, big opinions, big backstabbers, big talkers, big liars and a healthy dose of blustering blowhards. They come with the territory and frankly many radio stations wouldn't succeed if they didn't have people on staff with those very big traits.

In all honestly though, I believe I've only worked with one person who lived a truly big life: Andrew Ashwood.

I'm naming him now, out of respect for the man...my friend. Moments ago I learned my friend died tonight.

In 1997, Andrew blasted into San Antonio like a giant, amiable, eager, energetic serial killer... on speed. It didn't take anyone long to realize that they may not know exactly where Andrew was or where he was going, but you sure as Hell knew where he'd been.

He was tasked with an enormous challenge: take a heritage 50,000 watt blow torch News Talk station in an entirely new direction - sorry, no instruction manual.

He was under the gun: kick off the dust, find ways to make a rather stogy, set in its ways radio station and its staff, exciting and fresh. Attract a larger and younger audience, but be certain to maintain the station's well earned integrity and respected image in the market.

There was one other caveat to his marching orders: remember that the station is the flagship News Talk station of the largest broadcasting company on the planet which happens to be headquartered in the same city. Remember the founders of the company along with every Tom, Dick or Mary with a title and permission to enter the corporate headquarters building whether they worked in San Antonio or in Boise, would be judging your progress...listening at every opportunity. Expect a lot of phone calls from people who wanted to look impressive at the corporate offices...not necessarily make a lasting impression on the industry.

Andrew would occasionally remind me and others that "Big Ears" were listening in reference to all the corporate folks he was often filtering us from. Eventually it didn't matter who was listening or the size of their ears...we could defend our product against any critic. We still can and Andrew is a huge reason that's possible. He taught me, and every employee whether they were his charges or not, to always seek to do better, never to rest on our laurels and he taught us there is no goal that is unattainable.

Andrew made huge changes, and he made them rapidly because he believed in himself, his vision, and his co-workers. He was convinced he knew what needed to be done. He also knew he was going to face a lot of backlash and so I suppose he figured there wasn't much sense in being delicate about it.

Recent political campaign slogans notwithstanding, I've found most people are actually resistant to change, especially when it comes to big things, like their jobs.

Some of the radio station employees who didn't respect Andrew's philosophy, or whose egos felt threatened, quit in occasionally comical huffs. One self-professed "talk show superstar" actually brought in body guards to block the studio door as he unexpectedly announced that immediately after he got his last "two cents" in, he was walking out and never looking back.

His "body guarded" bravado lasted 10 or 15 minutes during which he put all the blame for his apparently rash and emotionally gooey departure on Andrew. He told the audience how he was being forced to leave to maintain his integrity and that he could not in good conscious be on a radio station that was also going to carry a show which he characterized as evil, in fact satanic.

In hindsight, it was hysterical. With hypocrisy levels almost unimaginable anywhere but the broadcasting industry and Washington D.C., he said he was taking the moral high ground because his "young son" would be destroyed by a horrifying program the evil Andrew Ashwood was scheming to air. Then he and his "body guards" stormed out, leaving the microphones open, a number of people - including his wife, a station employee and also the mother of that impressionable little boy he was sparing from damnation by using as a prop - somewhat stunned. The only thing he failed to mention during his on-air fit was that he had already signed a contract with another station across town which required him to guarantee he could bring a large number of his program's sponsors to them. The stunt was so convincing to some that the then Archbishop of San Antonio got sucked into commenting on whether the "devil" was being allowed onto the legendary WOAI airwaves.

Andrew took all the heat...and there was a lot. Andrew and I didn't always agree, but after a while even thick headed folks like me tend to notice people who aren't running away or pointing fingers when lynch parties are organizing. I once sent Andrew an email telling him that, "We may fight over some of your methods, but I've never worked for anyone whom I could count on more to 'take the arrows' when hard decisions had to be made." Andrew's reply was atypical for his personality. I won't share that except to say I don't think he was expecting compliments from me at that time in our relationship.

By the way, the demonically sinister program Andrew put on the air on WOAI at 9pm on a tape delayed basis which was destined to corrupt small boys and lure them into to Hell...was a sports talk show hosted by a young guy who was making an impression and shaking things up in the industry.

Today, the Jim Rome radio show is perhaps the most syndicated sports talk show in the nation carried on hundreds of radio stations. To the best of my knowledge the devil has never been among Mr. Rome's guests.

The talk show host who rode out that day on his moral high horse with his trusted "body guards" at his side, lasted five or six years at his new station. The "loyalty" of most of the sponsors he promised to bring with him lasted only a few months. Last I heard he was out of radio and trying to sell his own self-professed one of a kind special extra delicious barbecue from a trailer on the side of a freeway. That venture didn't last long. I suppose people can only stomach so much.

Let me be clear, that is only one example of what Andrew not only endured but instigated within days of his arrival at WOAI. Many of the radio station's listeners rebelled at Andrew's wholesale programming modifications as well. Especially since Andrew imposed many of them with little or no notice, but always with great after-the-fact public fanfare. Andrew led the cheers for the changes within the walls of the radio station and in front of every TV camera, or newspaper reporter he could rally to outrage. He never flinched. He took on all comers who disagreed and he did so with gusto...he relished the challenge and lived in the moment.

I wasn't a quick convert either. I resisted too...but I learned something important. When I vehemently disagreed with Andrew, he did something that I had never experienced before with any other programming chief with whom I worked up to that point...he listened. I occasionally might see a hint that my objections were getting under his skin a bit, but he never lashed out, he never yelled, he rarely ever took the easiest step for any boss to take which is to simply say, "Tough luck I'm the boss."

The most telling of my personal "disagreements" with Andrew occurred in December of 1998. The House of Representatives was beginning the process of impeaching then President Clinton. Instead of turning over the radio station to a direct feed from the House floor where politician after politician was speechifying, Andrew threw together a rather motley bunch of quasi-talk show personalities and talk show host wannabes who ended up doing what a lot of folks suddenly tossed into a position like that do, they talked...they talked a lot. Remember, the station's self proclaimed "Super Star" host had already deserted.

This makeshift group yakked and yukked and rarely offered insight into the current situation. They were ill prepared for the task of dealing with an event the nation had not witnessed in modern history.

I was furious. A once in a lifetime historical event was playing out and the future of the country's President might well be dictated by what was being said, yet our station was broadcasting banter.

Sometimes the stories tell themselves...you don't need announcers. I believed this was one of those occasions.

I didn't have to listen long before I simply blew.

I remember vividly storming around the radio station desperately trying to find Andrew, only to end up confronting him in the office of his boss. I didn't care. I interrupted their conversation without giving it a thought, spewing out everything I believed was wrong with what was happening on our airwaves, and not mincing words. I mean I blasted him. I blasted the gaggle of gossip we had on the air. I lectured Andrew on history like he was a schoolboy in knickers.

And I did it all, directly in front of his boss, the person who hired him only months prior and who stood there... mouth agape.

When my tirade was complete I turned to walk away, quickly realizing I might not get out the office door before being fired and then... Andrew laid me low with four words, "I appreciate your passion." He didn't yell them, he didn't seem mad or even embarrassed that one of his employees was questioning his judgment in front of his boss. He was calm and he was sincere.

A short time later, Andrew came into the newsroom. He called several of us together and asked for all our thoughts and then he acted. He culled some of the quasi-talk show hosts from the gaggle, carried much more of the live feed and made sure that everyone knew that they should bring him any other ideas right away.

It was the right move and a move that symbolized one of Andrew's greatest traits, he believed in people. He often believed in them more than they believed in themselves and he wasn't afraid to encourage them, or take advice, or seek ideas from anyone. He really did listen.

Andrew made careers for many people in my industry because of that attitude. He knew all his employees' names, he wasn't someone employees saw once in a while. He was hands on, all the time.

Andrew was my Operations Manager for six years before he left for his "dream job." He became the Vice President of Fox Sports Radio and moved to L.A. with the woman who soon became his wife.

When he left, News Radio 1200 WOAI had the highest ratings and largest audience in its history and I honestly believe there wasn't one employee who wanted to see him go.

How many bosses can you say that about?

Andrew was a giant of a man in many ways, his nickname was "The Gorilla" but he wasn't intimidating. He certainly demanded the best, but that was because he saw the best in people. He brought it out in those that let him.

Following his cancer diagnosis we exchanged a lot of emails and no matter the setbacks he endured, the treatments he was tortured by, and the occasional unsolicited prognosis of pessimism, never once did Andrew Ashwood stop believing he could win.

His faith in God grew stronger as his body at times grew weaker. His love for his wife Sandra also grew as he at times relied heavily on her strength and faith.

Andrew, who was 51 years old, died tonight after suffering a massive heart attack earlier this week. I will miss him and the radio industry certainly will never be the same.

I suspect Andrew Ashwood's heart may have been too big for this world...but I can guarantee that Heaven is a livelier place tonight than it has ever been.

Please enjoy him Lord...so many of us praise You for allowing us that privilege.

Andrew Ashwood
1957 - 2008

Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure; genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it's your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of His victory. - 1 Peter 1:6-7(MSG)

Heads Up! This Is Creepy

2008-11-13T07:49:00.000-06:00

Learn more here.

I Didn't Realize How Much I Was Missing

2008-10-31T02:38:00.004-05:00

I'm on every Do Not Call, Do Not Solicit, Do Not Bother, Go Away! list you can imagine, so I don't get a lot of telephone solicitations even during election years.
I have always found robotic calls annoying and am somewhat pleased by the lack of those intrusions this year - of course it may be because Amy and I can rarely find our home phone in time to answer it, but that's another story.

In past years I've had recorded Governors and even Presidents call begging for my vote. However I've apparently missed a lot by getting myself off those lists and now feel a little like techno-troglodyte.

Especially after I heard this call initiated by a robotic election hustler in San Francisco.

Wow! Back in my day folks paid money to call numbers where they talked like that, now they call you for free.

The obvious correlation between politicians and dirty talk need not be explored further I suppose.

A Little Update

2008-10-25T22:08:00.003-05:00

I meant to write something earlier today but got sidetracked...if it's any consolation I also meant to get more of the housecleaning and the laundry done and that got sidetracked too.

I did get to the kitchen and some of the laundry.

I have an excuse for being distracted...and she's a cutie:

Say,"Hello" to Tatyana!

She's almost one, unbelievably.

Tatyana - Taty for short - is the daughter of Ana Gomez.

If you're a longtime reader - God bless you - you'll perhaps remember Ana, her mom Lee, and brothers John' and Michael.
If you just stumbled across my ramblings, God bless you too, but you can read more about the Gomez clan and how they landed in our home for six months or so after fleeing Hurricane Katrina in various posts but this one, this one and this one are three I like the best. Admittedly they are some of the more upbeat posts from period, although all are bittersweet in one way or another. There were a lot of trying times during those six months for everyone involved...having a selective memory is useful sometimes.

Anyway this morning, just as I was about to start tackling the kitchen I swear, our doorbell rang. No one usually rings our doorbell without us knowing before hand unless it's the UPS guy. We don't get a lot of visitors and I do my best to scare away door to door salespeople. I have "NO SOLICITING - NO KIDDING" labels on the doorbell itself - really.

To have the doorbell ring unexpectedly on a Saturday morning made us suspicious, and also required us to quickly check our basic grooming - hey, it's Saturday! We were just lazing around, although I was of course vigorously prepping for kitchen duty.

So there at the door are Lee, Ana and Tatyana and suddenly the fact our house was a mess and I had bed head didn't seem to matter.

It's been too long since we've been able to visit and Tatyana is a joy.

We caught up. Lee is working, taking care of Tatyana and trying to keep John' under control while also taking some college classes over the Internet. Ana just quit her job so she can hopefully expedite her plan to get into "boot camp." She enlisted in the Navy and then, well...Tatyana resulted in...to use a seafaring analogy, an "impromptu course correction." So she's experiencing motherhood and is still perpetually happy. That girl is always laughing and it's infectious.

We haven't been very good at staying in touch with Lee and the kids. We haven't worshiped together for a long time and between Amy's health and my work hours it's hard to maintain relationships.

But we spent some quality time together today - not enough but hopefully it will open the door to more.

I have a feeling that seeing Taty on a regular basis may be exactly what the doctor ordered...even if it does result in housework being put off for another day...or two.

Our children and their children will get in on this, as the word is passed along from parent to child. Babies not yet conceived will hear the good news - that God does what He says. - Psalm 22:30 (MSG)

Seeing Through The Ring

2008-10-07T16:46:00.008-05:00

We are fallible little beasties.

We misinterpret a lot and I believe we have for eons and many of us misinterpret the same things today that our ancestors and their ancestors misinterpreted, even without the benefit of new forms of communication which make miscommunication so much easier.

How many of us for example learned the first commandment this way:

'You shall have no other gods before Me.' ?

All you need to do is Google the ten commandments and you'll likely find a couple zillion places that list that as the first commandment.

It's a matter of interpretation I suppose...misinterpretation in my mind. Which leads me to this story I've been waiting to write...

His ring is silver and shiny. It is new, bought to commemorate a relationship. An anniversary gift to himself. An anniversary of death.

That's not what it really symbolizes to me but that's sort of how he explained it during one of our most recent breakfast conversations. He didn't really have an explanation since the act of buying the ring runs completely counter to the words and feelings he's been unleashing and unloading on me week after week...for more than a year.

The ring is new but the conversations are old. He tells me how he is doing better and then minutes later he's rehashing the same bitter memories. His now dead wife wronged him. The pain from her last actions has caused him to doubt the validity of their entire relationship. She died without seeming to care about him. Her depraved children from a previous marriage stepped all over his grief, robbed him of the opportunity to mourn and raped him of the good memories. The echoes of suffering which never seem to fade.

Oh! He is doing fine!

He always is for the first four or five minutes of our talks, but moments later the pain bubbles back to the top, no matter how I try to steer the conversation to any other topic. It's like watching your friend repeatedly rip the scab off a wound every time you start to notice a semblance of healing.

Every week he is over it...every week he reminds me about everything he is over.

Every week I wonder if he'll ever actually get over any of it.

I no longer try to rephrase my responses, find a new analogy to offer him counsel. I've tried everything I know, so now I only try to be certain I get the message in. I remind him how well he is doing, how much better he is than he was a year ago, how few real worries he has, that there's no telling what the future may hold, that he has to be open to seeing God's blessings.

These things are true. He's going to church, meeting new people, staying active. His health is good, his finances great...but his heart remains shattered.

Sometimes he will tear up as he tells me of his daily conversations with God. He prays every day for God to send him someone with whom to share his life. He trembles at the prospect of living the rest of his life alone.

During our most recent breakfast, he is fiddling with that new shiny ring on his right hand. A simple silver band with a cross.

It's an oddity really. He was never especially religious. He is Jewish, although in the 15 years I've known him he's never been a practicing Jew. His dead wife was Baptist.

Years ago, at least for a little while, they attended services together at a Messianic Temple. He drifted away from that until his wife was dying. Then he joined the Baptist church she began attending. When she started losing her battle for a grip on earth, he quickly lost faith in church.

He left the Baptist church when his wife died...telling me it was because of the memories.

Some months ago, he called me excitedly to say he was joining a Methodist church. I was happy for him, a little befuddled, but he had apparently found community. This week he told me he really joined because "they had a single's group." He also confessed he had stopped going to that church and started attending one of the giant churches in town...the Methodist's single's group was full of "old women."

Church or Temple has never really been anything but a "place" to him...a place where he at least wasn't alone, and he has been lonely. Yet despite not cultivating any relationships with women, he was cultivating a relationship with God...perhaps never inside any formal place of worship...but at night, crying aloud, begging God for a chance for happiness again.

I don't think he's realized that relationship, at least not fully. We pray together. I've learned to pray during our meals since he can tend to send up quite a prayer and let God in for what's usually my normal dose of 'unloading'...and my food gets cold.

There is much he doesn't understand. He wants God to tell him why his wife died and why she seemingly treated him so poorly after all their years together. He wants to know if his wife went to Heaven.

Like all of us he has questions for God which only God can answer.

Week after week, I've attempted to provide a steady force feeding of reminders that he should trust in God, look to the future, cherish the good memories, forgive, unburden himself of the past, dwell less on what he no longer has, and thank God more for all the blessings which surround him.

In all honesty, my menu for "moving on" has never seemed to satisfy his hunger. It's all I can offer, a recipe of hope.

He was better the last time we shared a meal. He was happy and I knew why because he had called me the night before and told me, sparing few details. He has found love again. A woman who 'gets' him, tolerates him, needs him but can be independent of him. Their relationship is moving very fast and today I learned they plan to marry in January.

I whole heartedly endorsed his relationship over that breakfast meeting, and his marriage plans during our phone call today. He's in his 60's, life is too short and can end too soon. Take a chance, cover your bases but reach for it all. It's out there, but you have to reach for it.

As we scarfed down our food that day I barely had the chance to speak as he told me all about this new woman in his life, how perfect she is, how much better he is...and finally I saw that he understood how time yields perspective.

It was then he showed me the ring. It was an odd transition. From a new love to a dead love to a new ring marking an anniversary of death. I understood it. I'm not sure he did. I'm still not sure he does.

As we talked today and he told me of his wedding plans, he said he barely thinks of 'her' - his dead wife - at all these days. Well, maybe once in a while, but he doesn't tear up...much. He's not angry...or at least as angry.

I mentioned to him quietly that even when he puts a new ring on his hand in a few months and on the hand of his new bride, he should still wear that other 'new' ring on his other hand as he does now.

I'm not sure he understood why. I'm not sure he will. We misinterpret so many things.

Yes, his wife died and it was a terrible death and the circumstances that followed were evil in how he was haunted by the final memories.

Yet that ring...that ring is a testament to a relationship that ended AND a relationship that is really unexplored and unlimited. Not the relationship with his soon to be wife. His relationship with his Creator.

There are blessings all around us. All of us. Everyday.

How we look at the world, head up or head down, dictates how or whether we see them.

My friend is amazingly blessed. He's realizing that now. I hope as his relationship grows with his new wife, he won't misinterpret the first commandment.

"I am the LORD your God. You shall have no other gods before Me."

That's the way I interpret the first commandment. It doesn't begin with"You shall " It begins with, "I am the LORD your God"

Maybe He should have been more clear, "l am your loving God. I created you. Nice to meet you, I want a relationship with you, Please don't ever overlook the very first words I spoke to you. I want this relationship to last for all eternity. Stick with Me won't you? You'll be amazed at the blessings you'll see when you do."

That's a lot to fit on a tablet I suppose.

Everyone Has Heard Of 'Cat Ladies'...

2008-10-06T03:28:00.002-05:00

Amy is in Ohio for the wedding of yet another nephew (I think I've run out of nephews to marry off now) so I spent the weekend watching TV, ignoring the lawn, and um...watching TV.
Most of the time I was joined by our youngest and largest hound, Gabby, who likes to lounge almost as much as much as I do.

Once she settles down from the excitement of jumping on the bed or couch, Gabby is usually content to sit there and watch a movie or whatever I'm viewing. She did object to "Snakes on a Plane" and I can't blame her, I only made it about 10 minutes in and then thought "cleaning the kitchen would be better than this." She also didn't tolerate the Cowboy's game...they learn so fast (sigh).

Gabby is a slightly gendered confused (soon she's going to be gender neutral) terrier mix whom we 'inherited' from a former resident we threw out for being an indecent human being. She likes to roll around and get dirty...chew on ~~almost anything~~ everything, and generally see what she can get away with...but she's not prissy.

I noticed this morning that in the Fort Worth area over the weekend they had "Barktoberfest."

You can see the slide show at the Fort Worth Star Telegram site, but let's just say Gabby wouldn't have fit in.

Photo credit:Star-Telegram/Bruce Maxwell

I barely have the patience to get the clogs of mud out of her claws...the idea of "painting" her toes makes me believe a lot of folks are howlin' at the moon a bit too much.

They need to find better things to occupy their time... like watching TV and ignoring the lawn.

My Private Idunno

2008-09-22T11:11:00.003-05:00

About the previous post:

When I started writing here some 6 years ago it was my private little space. I write a lot, but much of what I write is dictated by circumstance and facts and my job. Writing a "blog" was a "release" where I could write whatever I wanted, within certain limits.

For a large part of that initial time, Amy was very ill and I was struggling and writing was one of the few things that kept me sane (or kept up the appearance of sanity). A few people read what I wrote and we had this small community which seemed very intimate.

Then, for a number reasons, the blog picked up readership. That was exciting but also somewhat limiting. I liked the idea of "being popular" - who doesn't? - but after a while knowing there was an "audience" for what I wrote hampered me somewhat. I got over that, realizing no one in their right mind came here looking for wisdom, and all was well.

In recent months, okay let's call it a year or so, I've been busy with a lot of other stuff and writing for the blog became something "on my to do list."

Yeah, kiss of death...I meaning cleaning the garage is on my "to do" list...and it's been there for at least a decade.

Also Amy and I went through some very tumultuous times with friends, people we invited into our home, and folks who asked for our help and then wigged out. Some of those situations became ugly and I realized that although I wanted to write about them, it might only make the situations worse.

Hence my dilemma. Writing as a "release" gradually was replaced by writing as a "responsibility." Plus, there are so many topics that are "off limits" for one reason or another, that my little private place to unburden myself, became a burden in and of itself.

Unfortunately a number of the people we have befriended, guided, prayed with and counseled who then went nuts (yeah, we're rethinking whether God really wants us to counsel anyone) use this blog's comment area or the link to my email on the blog to vent their seemingly endless and rather vicious amounts of emotional debris and denial. That has only added to my growing disdain for the blog itself. Who needs this?

Well, truth is I need this...but I don't need other folks psychological baggage, nor do I want to spend my time tiptoeing around my thoughts fearing that they might trigger another outburst from someone whom we've done everything possible to help, only to be repeatedly beaten up for our efforts.

So, I'm going to continue to write....when I feel like it. It may be once a week, once a month or once in a blue moon.

I'll turn the comments back on...and leave my email link off ( most sober folks can figure out how to email me).

When I need to write things that might set off some headcase (although what triggers that stuff is something of a mystery), or which might be hurtful to someone close to us, I'll write that elsewhere...some new private place.

We'll see what happens.

Hunkering Down

2008-09-16T03:26:00.003-05:00

I'm taking this blog "semi-private" for the time being. Not exactly sure how I'm going to accomplish that, I may just move it and adopt different software.

It seems creepy, mentally disturbed individuals - most with substance abuse problems - are unable to remember my email address when they stagger home from the bar, so they come to this blog and then click on what used to be the "Contact Me" link.

I'm tired of reading the stuff from these folks. It's hateful and twisted. Frankly it's a crappy way to start the day.

Not like I'm writing here much anyway. I may go to an invitation only blog - set up with another email address. Not sure yet.

Actually I'm not sure if anyone is even going to be able to read this post following the template and formative changes I've just made.

I do know that God will forgive me for moving on with my life and in the process ridding myself of the blathering of people who can't seem to remember reality and find it easier to write screeds to me than to forgive themselves.

That Sound You Hear...

2008-09-02T07:14:00.003-05:00

...is arteries hardening.

The Dallas Morning News has the results of the annual contest among food vendors at the upcoming Texas State Fair. The basic criteria is your "food" (and I use that term lightly...well, lightly may not be the right word) is that the "food" must be fried.

If you watch this without wanting to add a salad to your next meal...then you're ready to wave to Big Tex come October, and/or a coronary bypass.

The complete list of "winners"...

Best taste

Chicken-Fried Bacon; vendor: Glen Kusak, Yoakum Packing

Most creative

Fried Banana Split; vendor: Shirley Weiss, Auto Grill

Other finalists

•Fernie's All-American Fried Grilled Cheese Sandwich; vendor: Christi Erpillo, Dock Restaurant

•Texas Fried Jelly Bellys; vendor: Justin Martinez, Granny's Funnel Cake

•Deep Fried S'mores; vendor: Tami Stiffler

•Fire & Ice (fried pineapple creation); vendor: Abel Gonzales Jr.

•Fried Chocolate Truffles; vendor: Nick Bert Jr.

•Chocolate-Covered Strawberry Waffle Balls; vendor: Mark Zable, Belgium Wafflestand

So You Think You're Special

2008-08-29T07:57:00.003-05:00

I don't really buy these statistics...but according to this website:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are
218
people with the name "Michael Main" in the U.S.A.

So, have you seen ~~yourself~~ yourselves lately?

Look For The Revolutionary Label - Rerun

2008-08-28T07:38:00.003-05:00

******This is a previously posted piece that I felt like re-running as I keep writing stories about "unity" intermixed with nasty politics as usual *********

"A house divided against itself cannot stand." - Abraham Lincoln

"Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand. - Jesus Christ

The time has come...for revolution.

That's right...damn the threat of Gitmo. To hell with The Patriot Act. I will not back down, I will not be silenced. I am sounding the clarion call for rebellion and I do so fearlessly.

We must overthrow the enemy and my friends, the enemy has a huge head start.

The enemy has an organized army. A fortress built on a fabric of fear and reinforced with walls that can not be breached by bombs, or guns, fire, or half-hearted faith.

The enemy is well funded, well fortified and operates like a well oiled machine, sparing nothing in its' path. Its plan of attack is well honed, well operated and well proven. The enemy's assault is being waged every second of every day and has been for decades, perhaps centuries.

And we haven't noticed...or haven't cared.

Worse yet...we pay the enemy's soldiers...in fact some members of the enemy's army are actually waging war against themselves. We fund their weaponry. Hell, we cheer them on, feed on their plunder and the spoils of their war are often surrendered gladly...by us.

I want it back.

I want every damn bit of it back.

I am calling for a revolution. You can call me Che...but only if I get to wear the beret.

"Eager souls, mystics and revolutionaries, may propose to refashion the world in accordance with their dreams; but evil remains, and so long as it lurks in the secret places of the heart, utopia is only the shadow of a dream" - Nathaniel Hawthorne

I'm not kidding...and I'm not backing down. I detest playing defense.

Don't tune me out...you haven't even begun to hear and so help me God if we fail to learn to listen we all will suffer consequences so severe they will threaten every possession you have and every person you love...our planet...our existence.

Overly dramatic? I'm not kidding, I mean every word.

Some of you have already made up your minds, you've labeled me.

Label me paranoid...call me names,

"Face it, he's another conspiracy nut on the web."

"So far I think he's just long winded." - Made up people.

You would be wrong to label me...at least at this point. Okay, with the possible exception of the long-winded label.

But it's labels that are the very weapons that the enemy is using...every day, everywhere you look. You can't close your eyes to them, we can't tune it out, we can't even stop ourselves from using them! The weapons of the enemy!

Maybe I am a nut, but I'm a nut who believes there is only one thing to do...fight back.

TV does it, radio, the Internet and newspapers do it. Politicians, preachers, and Pulitzer prize winners do it. Ad men and mad men, altruists and Ayatollahs...they're all using the same weapons of war...labels.

On the face of it, it seems harmless. Labels are simple ways to categorize ...every belief you have, every dream, every value, every person...heck even every state.

Are you Blue or Red?

Not Communist red...Republican red.

If you're Republican Red than you favor big business, you vote "conservative," you are "pro-life," you are religious...not spiritual...most likely a Christian...a fundamentalist. You are pro-Israel and anti-Muslim, you don't watch Public television or listen to National Public Radio, you favor school choice, and believe all unions are corrupt. You are pro-gun, pro-military, pro-death penalty, anti-immigration, you like NASCAR, think soccer is for kids and foreigners and you don't understand hockey. You are pro-family, but think children are best seen and not heard...crying babies should be removed from the church service.

You object to paying five bucks for coffee, but you do. You are Red, and a real American. You think the poor are slackers, welfare is out of whack, and you'd home school your kids if you weren't working so hard to afford your SUV. You believe flag-burning is a real issue of monumental importance, you want prayer back in public schools and you claim to read your Bible every day, but you can't quote scripture too well. You listen to talk radio and only watch FOX news and you don't give a flying fart about trans-fats. And of course, above almost all else these days, you are certainly NOT green.

No, you can't be green if you're red. The labels clash...at least that's what the people labeled "fashionistas" and political experts tell us. Only people who are Blue can be green.

Blue people are pro-environment, pro-choice, anti-war, and want to legalize gay marriage. They believe surrender is not the same as withdrawal, red meat will rot your gut, red wine is good for you and in a pinch so is beer. You may have grown up in a trailer park, you who are Blue , though Blue people are proud to boast fluent Starbuckese while trying hard to deny that was them at the Star Trek Convention 10 years ago. Blue people vote for Democrats, and if they're not the poor, they help the poor, get down and dirty with 'em because they know it's the Red people holding them down. Unions are always good, corporations are always bad, America is usually wrong, and Hollywood is something to be admired. Blue people think they have a better chance of winning the lottery or American Idol than they do of ever being wealthy. Blue people still smoke...but only in certain Blue people places, where the family farm is being trampled by the Red people's greed.

Is that crazy?

OF COURSE THAT'S CRAZY! You think I'm really that much of a nut?

Turn in your blue badges, turn in the red badges too. Wave the white flag because you've already surrendered to people who are not dividing a house against itself....they've diced it.

I've been a reporter for more than 30 years. I have covered horrible murders. I once followed police around Denton County, Texas as they retrieved garbage bags off the sides of roadways...inside the bags were the dismembered body parts of a woman, killed by her deranged husband. I've listened to a man scream...wail at God, moments after learning his four children had been carved up by a cocaine crazed kid.

But I've never seen anything as gory as what I see on T.V. shows every week. Law & Order SVU, CSI Wherever...these shows, which are "Emmy" winners...have invaded our homes with story after story after story of depravity and deviance...each story seemingly worse than the last.

But someone is making those up. Most of our society isn't that way...those stories of horrifyingly grotesque acts of violence just don't happen. Yes, John Wayne Gacy did exist...so did Jeffrey Dahmer...but they didn't exist in our homes three nights a week...every week.

We've come to believe that those types of shows depict "reality" while programs labeled "Reality shows" are not reality...the only reality is that they are cheap to produce...and they use the enemy's favorite weapon too. They divide us...label us.

The "haves" versus the "have-nots"....grab the greed, one case away from happiness, one race or sex against another...people of faith against people of perversion...or so we're led to believe. The shows are edited. Those people are one dimensional on TV no matter what size TV you've been convinced you "have" to own by the ads that run every few minutes making you feel inferior for not "keeping up" with standards that are made up by someone in an advertising agency. In real life those people are three dimensional, unedited...and I don't believe nearly as shallow.

We're told the world "hates" America...some say it's because of George Bush (that's usually what we hear the "Blue" people are saying by the way).

We're told immigrants are a threat to our security, welfare pigs, and lazy. That's what we're told the "Red" people say...and we hear it so much we believe it.

But the people telling us those things...are they the "Red" people you know? Or the "Blue" people living next door?

Probably not...they're either politicians, or race activists, or more likely the "Perfect People" in the picture tube with the fresh breath, and sparkling white teeth, who never get bed head. No matter, all of them have their own reasons for labeling other people as "for this" or "against that" or mean or pitiful...they need to keep your attention...on them. Either to win your vote, or to get you to give them money, or to convince you to buy something that truthfully you probably don't really need.

Labels...even on a can of beans labels are not plain black letters on a white background...why?

Think!

Almost everything created by man is designed to distract you from something else...and that's the enemy's weapon.

I don't know if the world hates America because of George Bush or if they hate America because of what they see blaring into their homes...our fixation with fame, and wealth, and celebrity and labels. I don't know if the world hates America at all.

"The world" doesn't speak...people...red people, blue people, green people, media people, lots of people who are quick to lob labels speak...and while we may be bombing the wrong people in the Middle East, I can tell you with certainty we are attacking the heart of the values of people all over the world with a skewed view of our country and I can't blame them for feeling under siege, because I feel that way too.

We fought wars in places most of us have never and will never be, yet we have been and are still under unrelenting attack right here, right now. In every state, every county, ever city, and every home in America.

We are losing...badly.

So I am calling for a revolution.

A stewardship revolution.

Sign up today.

Be a good steward of your values, be they red or be they blue. Be a good steward of your money. Be a good steward of our planet. Be a good steward of your children. Be a good steward of your faith. Foremost be a good steward of your mind...be careful what you let in there, what you take as truth, and who you allow such liberties.

And be a good steward of your tongue...label less, listen more.

If we were really to do that, with all our hearts and our souls and our minds....by God Almighty, THAT would be a real revolution.

"I never considered a difference of opinion in politics, in religion, in philosophy, as cause for withdrawing from a friend." - Thomas Jefferson

"I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings." - Jesus Christ

Nightmares

2008-08-26T06:29:00.005-05:00

The stuff of nightmares....

I'll believe it when I see hear it

2008-08-21T18:28:00.002-05:00

I used to lose a lot of sleep worrying about work. Specifically, I'd toss and turn fearing that when I arrived at the office before dawn I'd be greeted by the journalistic equivalent of Mother Hubbard's cupboard....no news.

I feared our team of reporters would collectively fail in their efforts to generate news stories and since I was (and still am) the last line of defense, I'd have to scramble to "find" news to keep the audio meters twitching.

I'm not sure when it was exactly, but at some point I realized that despite all my sleepless nights, and even some pretty bleak news days, my worst fears never materialized. So I stopped losing sleep over it.

Still, I'm often asked, "What do you do if there's no news?"

My standard, and now rather stale response is always, "I just make stuff up."

Today, I thought someone really was making stuff up. I read a story about a lawmaker in California - you know that state known for its intense commitment to the environment - who is seriously worried about the proliferation of hybrid cars.

Really.

At first I giggled and presumed it was some goofy satirical piece from "The Onion" or a similar website which had been mistakenly been construed as real.

Then I did a Google news search...which turned up some 300+ articles dealing with this weighty issue.

In a nutshell (nut being highly appropriate in this instance) this state lawmaker in California is worried about blind people...or "visually impaired"....sight deprived...whatever the politically correct term in California is for people who can't see.

His concern?

He's worried blind people are going to get run over by hybrid cars...because the cars are too quiet.

I am not kidding.

He's so worried in fact that members of the California legislature, representatives of organizations involved with the visually impaired, and others are going to form a committee to study this issue.

(Insert clueless leading the sightless gag here)

They are seriously talking about somehow requiring hybrid vehicles to be "noisier."

I couldn't make this up if I tried.

I really am serious.

Do a "Google News Search" for "blind hybrids" yourself if you don't believe me.

Exactly how many blind people are run over in California? Is this something that happens a lot? Are blind Californians regularly flattened by bicyclists, electric wheelchairs, and or joggers?

This has to go down as one of the silliest things I've ever heard any state lawmaker discuss, and believe me I've been around a lot of state lawmakers, but most of their livers failed before they lost this many brain cells.

Yet since I'm such a magnanimous guy who wants to save California taxpayers the expense of "studying" this crucial matter...and because I also am not in favor of any blind person being inadvertently smushed by a hybrid car, a deer, or a well muffled Zamboni...I've come up with a solution.

I couldn't bear the thought of people losing sleep worrying about how to solve this "crisis" so I put on my thinking cap and vowed not to take if off until I arrived at the answer.

Admittedly I was able to remove the cap in about 4 seconds, but maybe I'm a genius.

Here's what I came up with...(drum roll please - that's for the benefit of any blind person walking past your computer who obviously can't read over your shoulder and realize the monumental importance of my solution).

How about requiring the manufacturers of hybrid cars to put something in them to warn the apparent throngs of blind people aimlessly wandering the streets of California that vehicles are rapidly approaching which are apparently destined to mow them down?

I don't know...maybe something like....um...well, like this?

No need to thank me California. I don't want the credit. Feel free to utilize my profound wisdom gratis.

After all, I never was one to toot my own horn.

Maybe It Was Something They Eight

2008-08-08T07:49:00.003-05:00

By now you have no doubt realized, read, heard that this is 8/8/8, as in August 8th, 2008. It's supposed to be a lucky day...a happy day. What? That doesn't do it?

Well, perhaps this will lift your spirits. This is also "Galactic Freedom Day!"

Yes, today the people of the world join together (at 8 p.m. "Universal" time) in a mass experiment aimed at retrieving the truth from various governments about the vast numbers of space aliens who visited/invaded/now control our planet.

As for me...I'm just happy it's Friday.

I'm Not Taking A Position Here....Butt.

2008-08-07T07:40:00.003-05:00

I noticed that testimony is due to start today in the lawsuit filed against Victoria Osteen, wife of Lakewood Church Pastor Joel Osteen.

You may remember the case, in 2005 a flight attendant accused Mrs. Osteen of physically assaulting her over some minor dispute in the first class cabin.

Lakewood Church, for those who might not know, is the GIANT church in Houston housed in what used to be the Houston Rockets arena.

The Houston Chronicle story is here, but what caught my eye was the flight attendant's claim of how this alleged confrontation damaged her. I mean I've had run ins with folks in my day that left me angry, maybe even emotionally scarred...butt..er but, her claim that since this incident she has "lost her religious faith and suffers from hemorrhoids because of the anxiety and trauma..."

Well, I must say I'm glad I'm not going to be on the jury to see the 'evidence.'

The End Is Near

2008-07-31T07:25:00.003-05:00

Do you need any further proof that we're approaching, if not smack dab in the middle of the "end times?"

Starbucks - for the first time ever - is "losing" money selling 5 dollar a cup coffee.

Meanwhile, Dunkin' Donuts has announced plans to start serving "healthy foods."

Can there be any doubt that these are signs of the looming Apocalypse?

Let us pray.

"Survey Says......."

2008-07-19T21:00:00.002-05:00

I know there's a reasonable explanation for this (because Amy reasonably explained it to me*) but I have to admit it stumped me when I first read it.

I guess the new trend for merchants is to hand you a receipt for whatever you've purchased and then add, "There's a code on there and a web address. If you go to that website and put in the code, you can win X number of dollars in our weekly/monthly/daily drawing simply for filling out a short survey."

I don't win any money, but lately I've been littered with these "survey receipts."

Yesterday I received three of them. One from Starbucks, another from Target, and yet another from a restaurant where Amy and I had a rare lunch "out" thanks in large part to the gift card my youngest daughter, Lisa, gave me for my birthday.

So this evening I thought I'd do myself a favor and empty the junk out of my wallet (it's full of receipts not cash) and since the computer was nearby the trash can, I filled out those various surveys.

I'm a little wary of such things, but with multiple email addresses and phone numbers I have few worries about getting more spam than I already receive, or calls from solicitors. Still, I do at least give a cursory glance to the privacy statements and the contest "rules."

I can't remember which survey it was, but one of them had this caveat buried in all the jargon - and this is a direct quote:

"If a potential winner is a Canadian resident, such person must correctly answer a mathematical skill-testing question prior to awarding the prize."

I must admit that I laughed when I read it. I mean there wasn't any additional explanation in the "rules." It's like the contest organizers were saying, "Well, before we give a Canadian money we better make sure they're not too drunk or stupid."

I don't mean to offend Canadians - if that were my intent I'd compare them to the French - but isn't that kind of an odd line to drop in the middle of the usual fine print of a contest?

If I were a Canadian, I'd be offended...of course I'd also be embarrassed, but that's another story....Oh lighten up, I'm just kidding...eh?

To any Canadians I might have ticked off by this little bit of levity I'd ask that you count to ten and calm down.

Okay, maybe five.

Alright you can just count to three, but that's my final offer.

* Oh you want the reasonable explanation? In Canada, at least according to Amy, you can't have contests that give away money. I'm sure the 'official' explanation contains more legalese, but in essence games of 'chance' are a "Non Non." Thus, to win the big bucks from the Starbucks/Target/Chili's survey you have to win a 'game of skill.' Math is a skill...filling out surveys on the Internet is not.

Hey, that's Amy's explanation and it works for me.

I wondered how Dudley Doright was staying busy these days...

Ordainary Me

2008-07-17T11:37:00.007-05:00

Okay, had a little idle time...so I decided to become an ordained Minister.

It took several mouse clicks and no cash.

Those were my basic criteria before I embarked on this mission. Plus I wanted to knock it out before noon.

Luckily I found a free ordination site in a couple of seconds. I followed the explicit instructions...um, I filled out my name and stuff. Then I hit the "Ordain me" button.

Poof!

Technically, I was ordained once before. In our previous church, I was ordained as a Deacon, but I thought it was time I moved up on the theological food chain...became the big Kahuna..."Minister."

Now our current church doesn't really need another Minister - at least not the likes of me - but luckily the Church of Spiritual Humanism seems to have plenty of openings.

Amazing how that works out...ain't it? Must be a God thing :)

Amy is fond of saying, "You can't swing a dead cat in our family without hitting an ordained Minister or someone named Michael." I figured this way I'd be killing two birds with...well, I guess with one dead cat.

Moments after I hit the "Ordain me" button I received an email confirming my ordination, my higher place in the pecking order of piety, my ticket to the pulpit.

How much more official could it get than an email like this one?

******************************************************
This notice hereby confirms that

Michael Main
ADDRESS OMITTED DUE TO COMMON SENSE
SAN ANTONIO
Texas
782XX
USA
is an ordained member of the clergy of
The Church of Spiritual Humanism
Date of Ordination: July 17, 2008
Ordained by R. A. Zorger, President
www.SpiritualHumanism.org

*******************************************

I can't find a Church of Spiritual Humanism in the phone book, but I'm leaning toward televangelism anyway and we all know that a church is not a building it's a community...in my case, at this moment, it's a community of one, if you don't count the dead cat. Amy hasn't been won over yet, she's busy doing earthly stuff.

Although I'm perfectly content with my email ordination notice, I realize one day I may need a few more accoutrements to bring non-believers into the fold who may cast aspersions upon my "official" email from R.A. Zorger.

Amazingly, the Church of Spiritual Humanism just so happens to be able to have such things available.

God provides.

Once my televangelist career takes off, I'm figuring I'll go for top o' the line, spare no expense. I'm going to get myself the "Deluxe Clergy Service Pack."

What more could I possibly need? As you can see it comes with everything from a "Clergy car placard" to a real CD-ROM - more than a $100 value! Heck I can even pick my title. I don't have to be shackled to the title of "Minister" or "Reverend"...the drop down menu offers choices ranging from "Apostle of Humanity" to "Swami."

I'll have to give that some thought. I mean I just got ordained and all...I don't want to rush into this...besides my noon deadline is nearing.

In the interim, I may buy the "Basic Clergy Service Pack"...it's being offered at a miraculously low price of 15 bucks, plus shipping and handling.

You'll note it still includes five "Get Ordained Free" cards.

Anyone wanna buy one?

Yeah, I know they're supposed to be free, but remember I'm going for that televangelist goal.

Gotta start somewhere...and it's almost noon.

Go with God my children...

Electoral Nonsense

2008-07-17T06:18:00.002-05:00

If only I could just vote for the Jib Jab guys...

This is for JibJab's® eCard Plug!

Keep Your Virgin Mary Toast

2008-07-16T07:04:00.002-05:00

Sure laugh all you want...but Jesus is calling.

At least in Corpus Christi.

Folks there are eying a telephone pole which appears to have a mysterious image on it resembling Jesus.

When I first looked at the photos I thought it was a stretch...then I realized I was looking in the wrong place.

That happens a lot when I'm trying to find Christ, but that's another story.

You be the judge. I highlighted it a bit so you wouldn't make the same mistake I did.

OH! So THAT'S where I've been!

2008-07-15T11:43:00.003-05:00

Okay...time to decode, decompress, deflate (okay, that may take some exercise) and delineate some of what's been going on.

I had to be ~~a little cryptic~~ very cryptic in recent weeks because Amy and I were out of town and because of the nightmarish situation we had with two of our former "Upper Room Ministry" guests, I didn't want to put our home, house sitter, dogs, and cars in any further jeopardy. Forgive me, but telling everyone who stops by here that we were in Ohio seemed imprudent at the time.

What few remaining long time readers still stop by here could probably deduce that we were off on our usual trek to Ohio, but this year was special in that we were celebrating the marriages of four people we love dearly. Our son Joey and his new bride Sarah, and our nephew Sam and his new bride, Leslie.

Sam and Leslie got married on June 29th in Lakeside, Ohio and it was a wondrous affair.

Less than a week later, Joey and Sarah tied the knot, also at Lakeside, Ohio and there are few things in this life that have made me happier...

They were pretty excited too.

Needless to say, it's been a wondrous time in our family and I felt a little guilty not sharing more with you as events were unfolding.

Yeah, I got over it :)

And like a cherry on top of a delicious ice cream sundae (I really do need to deflate) yesterday we learned one of our other nephews and his bride welcomed a new addition into the family. Matt and Jodi ushered their son Lucas into the world.

Sometimes I have trouble hearing God...sometimes God screams.

And life is very very good.

The Lord lives! Praise be to my Rock! Exalted be God my Savior!

Jose Can You See...er Be Jesus?

2008-07-07T11:40:00.003-05:00

I get a lot of press releases.

I don't get too many announcing the arrival of Jesus Christ.

I did get this one though...

==========

Subject: URGENT: GLOBAL MEDIA ADVISORY For Immediate Release: July 2, 2008 URGENT: MEDIA ADVISORY The man Christ Jesus arrives in Stafford, TX next week Everyone is talking about the arrival of the man Christ Jesus in Stafford, Texas on July 13th, 2008. Come and meet the man making news headlines in each country He visits, and listen to His message which confirms Him as the Second Coming of Christ. This LIVE broadcast will be transmitted to all nations through world renowned TELEGRACIA channel (telegracia.com), and webcast is tuned in by 103 countries through www.creciendoengracia.com <http://www.creciendoengracia.com/> . Find out more about Dr. Jose Luis De Jesus Miranda, the incarnation of God in a man, and see why global followers already acknowledge that it is not the year 2008, but rather Year 62 after JH (the Second Coming). WHEN: July 13th, 2008 WHERE: Stafford Civic Center - 1625 Staffordshire Rd. Stafford, TX TIME: 3:00pm (CDT) / 4:00pm (ET) WHAT: National Convention USA 2008 with the honorable presence of The man Christ Jesus, Dr. Jose Luis De Jesus Miranda Open to the public - Free Admission VIDEO: Watch promo video -

(Video inserted by me to save you a click...-MM)

CONFIRMED MEDIA: E! A True Hollywood Story (USA) * British Documentary (UK) * Vision TV (Canada)(( OH BOY! E!-mm)) MEDIA CONTACTS: Axel Poessy (248) 460-3844 pr@creciendoengracia.com # # # The Government of God on Earth Ministerio Internacional Creciendo en Gracia World Headquarters - 8000 NW 25 St. Miami, FL 33122 Tel: (305) 994-9194 Fax: (305) 994-9195 www.creciendoengracia.com <http://www.creciendoengracia.com/>

===========================

This guy has gotten a lot of press already, but since he's coming to Texas I felt sort of obligated to pass along the press release from Jesus.

Oh...also if you don't know where Stafford is located, um...like me...here's a map

Not sure why Jesus chose Stafford, but I guess next week we can ask...

Thank God...or um...Jose.

Attacks Of The Heart

2008-06-16T17:25:00.007-05:00

Obviously I'm not writing here much these days...

There are many reasons for that, but most recently it's been a matter of self-preservation.

We have borne witness to murder and the weapon was so deceitful and conniving that we were unaware of its very existence.

I'm sorry this is so cryptic. The folks who have emailed me out of concern know a bit more, but most details must be left unspoken, unwritten in any forum...for now.

That only makes it worse, but I am limited for our lives have been forever changed, our viewpoint has been corrupted, our hearts have been pierced and suddenly the world is grayer...darker...we have been robbed, vandalized, and something so dear to our faith and our future has been mortally wounded.

Suffice it to say Amy and I have suffered a crisis of faith.

Faith in people.

Our faith in God is unshaken, perhaps it has been made stronger...but the sacrifice required for that strengthened faith is an open wound. It will not heal. It may in time scar over, but the wound will remain and I fear at the time our faith should be strongest it will twitch...it will sting...it will cause us to doubt.

And we will remember, we will hesitate...and that's all it takes...doubt, fear, distrust...those are weapons now etched on our hearts. Hardened hearts...it's not listed as an official crime, but believe me causing such a thing would be ranked as a capital offense were I writing the laws.

The few folks who know us or who still read my occasional ramblings already know...what only days ago I staunchly defended, I now must renounce.

We are in mourning...for a ministry...a ministry murdered.

Over the past 4 or 5 years I can't count the number of people who have told/asked us:
a:) You're crazy
b:) Why would you 'take a risk' on people you don't know?
c:) Do you really believe God is calling you to this?
d:) You should focus on you and Amy, cloister yourselves...don't you realize the danger?

I could go on...and on.

My answers have always been the same.

We know the risks.
We have faith in God.
People who need us obviously have 'messy' lives, we don't expect life to be 'tidy' in trying to help them.
I understand 'the gift of suffering.'
I trust people until they give me a reason not to trust them, no matter their past we start fresh.
We don't care where they've been, we are only concerned with who they are, and how we might help them see who they can be.
We have felt a real calling, believe me it's not the first time I've doubted it, but God has reinforced that call to us over and over again... at our lowest points... that this is what He wants us to do.
No, we can't afford it.
We'll find a way.
God will provide.

All of those answers are still true....except now I've added another.

Someday God will explain this to us...for now we will pray and try not to become jaded by the evil we've witnessed and endured.

In recent weeks I honestly believe I have stared Satan in the face and not realized it. I'll be the first to admit that it turned our world upside down.

But our faith remains strong.

We have, we pray, banished evil from our home, forgiven what can't be forgotten, and imposed restrictions on our lives I never thought imaginable.

Our lives have been forever changed, and what's worse is that change now forbids us from opening our home to people in need...although we do have some folks staying with us now because of an emergency situation in their lives. Their stay has been outlined in ink and to a large degree they are here to protect us as well as get on their feet. Otherwise Amy says our ministry is on "furlough"...I fear it is dead.

There are guns in our home.

There are security systems...alarms and cameras and locks.

Worst of all, there is that seed of distrust in our hearts.

I have traveled the sewers of life of my own volition. I have sat across from killers separated only by thick wire mesh laden glass. I have heard screams of victims that would curdle your soul...but, right now...in our hearts... this is worse.

I can not bear to dwell in such dark places.

I do believe that God will shed light some day, but today...this day...I can not believe God expects me to put my family, my church, my company or our neighbors at risk.

Trust.

That was the weapon.

The story is sad...one day I'll be less cryptic. I won't write here very often for a while to come, but I felt it only fair to let those of you who I know pray for us often some details...obfuscated as they may be.

Please keep praying.

Then pray some more.

I'm hoping one day I'll be able to understand all this...be less fearful...remove so many of the new boundaries we've imposed on our lives.

Today is not that day.

Memorials, Memories, and More

2008-05-25T23:33:00.007-05:00

I had a rather odd - at least considering the source - email last weekend from my immediate boss and longtime co-worker which read,"Please, write something about your 'Memorial day memories'...it's for a radio station web project."

That was it.

It was a little unsettling.

I mean I write all the time...writing wasn't the issue. The topic didn't scare me...even though it sounded like an assignment you'd give some high school English class. I'll also confess my first thought was, "You mean Sean Elliot's 1999 Western Conference finals shot? The 'Memorial day Miracle?"

Honestly, I remember that Memorial day pretty vividly, but I assumed despite the cryptic nature of the email that 'the web project' was meant to pay homage to the men and women who have and continue to serve and defend our freedoms.

I'm asked to write or help other people write all sorts of things in other aspects of my life, but what I write at work - at least usually - is determined not by vagaries but by facts. I mean, the parameters at work are usually more definitive.

"Memories" are subject to any number of variables, not the least of which is my ability to recall them.

I wasn't intimidated by the idea, but it was as my friend Gordon once wrote like my "world's were colliding."

I got over it, knowing if someone wanted me to have more precise direction I would have received it to begin with so this 'project' was likely a rather last minute thing, and whatever I submitted was not going to be judged too harshly or judged by anything more than word count.

In any case, I found some old photos which provoked good memories, and when I had some time at work I treated the assignment like I do this blog...I wrote whatever came to mind.

A portion of it is included below and the basic theme is the same I suppose but I reworked it into a form I preferred.

I feel compelled to write something about Memorial day, but I also would be remiss if I didn't write about something else that's very important...and I don't think I can tie them together in any plausible segue, so I'm only going to mention that following the little essay is some other news....in radio we call that a "tease."

"The world should know of those who give so much for liberty.
The dearest thing in all the world to a father and mother---their children."- Congressional Record 1917

My father was a member of what we now refer to as "The Greatest Generation" - a veteran of World War II - and like many such men, he never spoke of it, at least not to his sons. He wasn't a war hero, war wasn't something to tell "stories" about and I suppose he believed there were more important things to discuss with his sons because every day was precious.

"Combat" and "Hogan's Heroes" were on TV - it wasn't until many years later that war became a reality to me. Before then, it was a "game," albeit as the youngest of three boys I was rarely the victor in our make believe skirmishes.

Memorial Day Memories from those days were of parading and pretending and the only thing I have in common with them now is the same haircut. The pretending came to a sudden end for me in 1972 when I buried my father, and weeks later, my mother at a military cemetery and gazed upon what seemed to be a never ending sea of reality and sorrow.

Those days were "Memorial Day Memories" to me.

Heroes beneath dirt. The chapters of their lives condensed perhaps in long forgotten newspaper clippings or perhaps kept alive only by a few faint, but frail and failing memories. Some were already lost forever. The neatly organized non-ornate tombstones seemed to me to be a sad and somewhat pathetic attempt to somehow force uniformity on what was obviously an uncontrollable, uncomfortable and unavoidable truth...death.

Don't misinterpret me, there was an air of honor, of respect..but also a healthy dose of fear for a boy my age whose entire world had become uncertain. Especially since the rest of the world which I hadn't paid much attention to up to this point suddenly didn't appear to present much solid footing for wherever the heck I was headed next.

Remember it was 1972... there were an increasing number of bright white undeviating markers honoring men of service, but no matter how neatly arranged, uniformity failed to ease the feelings of loss...and of fear.

A lot of time has passed since then. I no longer fear death because I have come to understand that I will not always understand God's plan, but I have faith in it nonetheless.

Over the years, I have been to many military cemeteries to bury brave men and women, or to observe their burials.

Every one of those days is a "Memorial Day Memory" to me.

Our most recent next door neighbors are a family with three sons. I see the boys playing together all the time...they laugh, and "shoot hoops" and skateboard...but they don't "play war." I suspect not many kids do these days.
I'm sure they still enjoy parades and cookouts and family on Memorial day, but I also suspect they understand more about Memorial Day than I did at their age.
That's a hard thing.

However I'm not positive it's a "bad" thing.

I think we need more "Memorial Day Memories"...I think we should have them every day.

=======================

The other news? Yes, I made you read all of that to get to this...you should be thanking me, reading is good for your brain...mental aerobics as my father-in-law is known to say...

Oh the news! Sorry, forgot my train of thought.

As the prior post implied our youngest daughter Lisa graduated from Baylor last week - one day I'll see the humor in how that day went for me and likely write about it, but suffice it to say I'm still walking with the use of a cane and apparently will be for the foreseeable future - I can't wait to see the DVD of the actual graduation ceremony.

No, that's not the news, that's me whining.

I also made passing mention in that post that Lisa is "in love."

She's in love with a good man, Joel, who is apparently also a decisive man.

Lisa graduated. She and Joel started the frenzied process of rearranging their lives, preparing for grad school for Joel...Lisa seeking a position worthy of her degree and talent...and somewhere in that process Joel managed to do one other thing...

He asked Lisa to allow him to love her and make memories with her for the rest of their lives.

She told me about it over the phone and when I wailed and moaned about how quickly she had become a young woman of 23, she was ready. Without missing a beat she said, "Michael, when Mom was 23 she already had three children! Number three was me!"

I think it was then that I let her go, she had other folks to call...and I had to find my cane.

I'm so very happy for her and Joel, and so delighted in their joy...but I must admit, there are some memories for which I will never be adequately prepared.

Dancing at Lisa's wedding however is one I think I'll start preparing for in advance.

Obviously some are bigger than others, but I think memorable moments come every day like so many of God's blessings...some we miss, too many we take for granted.

I think I need to remember that more often.

"Do you have any idea how powerful God is? Have you ever heard of a teacher like him? Has anyone ever had to tell him what to do, or correct him, saying, 'You did that all wrong!'? Remember, then, to praise his workmanship, which is so often celebrated in song. Everybody sees it; nobody is too far away to see it."- Job 36:22 (MSG)

Daze Of Joy And Madness

2008-05-16T13:27:00.005-05:00

It's been a long week...a long month or perhaps year, although this week the frenzy seems to have swallowed me. Of course the Spurs games starting so late (I had to cheer for the Lakers last night only because that means Monday's Spurs game will start at a decent hour) have wreaked havoc upon what little bit of a schedule I've tried to maintain. I'm not alone, most San Antonio residents are wobbling around somewhat like zombies who've taken too many rides on a roller coaster. I suppose I blend in.

There have been far more important things to deal with than the Spurs...yes, sometimes I have perspective.

Amy's Dad, Bernie, suffered what we now believe was very mild stroke. I swear Bernie will outlive me, he's far more energetic, his mind is sharper and were I to actually wager him on the prospects he'd likely stay "above room temperature" simply to prove a point. There's a slight (ahem) competitive streak which a number (read that all) of his descendants have inherited. Bernie's doing better, I'll see him in a month or so when he will bear witness to weddings of two of his grandsons...one of whom is my stepson.

Still the initial word sparked a great deal of worry and prayer...and some reflection.

This morning, Amy and I will drive up the road to Waco to see our youngest child, my step-daughter Lisa, graduate from Baylor. She's well on her way to becoming an Assistant Band Director, possibly for the high school from which she seemed to graduate only yesterday.

She's in love too.

Young, in love, a grown woman with a new world before her...and yet perhaps not often enough, I still see her as the little girl who giggled so much it made me giggle with delight.

Sadly, 90 or so miles north of Waco and only a few hours before Lisa walks the stage, my cousin, Michelle, will be laid to rest. I never really knew Michelle. She was a beauty and although I am only days older and we lived within miles of each other when I was a teen, her world was a different place than the one I inhabited. There's no judgment there, I didn't want to be part of the Dallas social scene, and it's a good bet Michelle didn't want to even be seen with the long-haired dreg I was at the time.

Still I remember a gorgeous young girl whose beauty obviously stayed with her.

She died at 50, missing out on something her sister tells me she was so looking forward to...seeing her 17 year old daughter graduate early from high school...a child I've never met.

So it was providential I suppose yesterday when Amy retrieved the mail and handed me the graduation announcement for my middle brother's daughter, Chelsea.

Yes, I'm struck by the resemblance too. I'm more struck by the realization that I don't know Chelsea as well as I should.

I plan to change that, and maybe get to know my cousin Michelle's daughter if I get the chance as well.

Life changes...sometimes too fast...but it's never too late to change with it.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever He does prospers. Psalm 1:3

It's Sad How Much I Enjoy This

2008-05-01T02:21:00.002-05:00

Pull Of Life

2008-04-27T14:00:00.010-05:00

I suppose I should post something here since that last post could leave folks a little depressed.

Life is good...we have some challenges, but we're confronting them and otherwise I'm really too busy for "leisure writing." Work...the Spurs...trying to start some new ventures...the Spurs...dealing with some car issues which I don't want to dwell upon except to pass along the advice that if you loan someone your car, and it blows up...I'd suggest you not let the same person choose "their mechanic friend" to "fix it."

One of our "Upper Room Ministry" guests, who has since disappeared, let his mechanic friends "work" on my car. After giving these friends several hundred dollars I finally found the remnants of the car and had it towed back home. Not sure if it's reparable but at least I have possession of it. Occasionally the chief "mechanic" on the team I refer to as "Drunk and Drunker" drops by and says he's working on it. I see an oil slick on my driveway. Amy swears she's actually seen him at least once working on the car.

One of our other upper room ministry guests is apparently here for the long haul. It's not like we could throw her out...not with a face like this.

That's Gabby...or Gypsy or Shiloh, depending on who is claiming ownership of her. It appears our steady and "stable" upper room guest "Scott" is going to keep her, which is probably the best thing for her. If not, I'm assuming she'll just become part of the household. She's only a few months old, and her heritage is subject to some debate.

I think her face looks like there's Irish Wolfhound in her, which may make me rethink my sanity (not something I need to do, believe me) but Scott think she's terrier, and maybe part lab. She doesn't seem to be growing too much, although the size of her feet do scare me a bit. This photo doesn't adequately show the paws size in relation to Gabby's body...but suffice it say, they are still a little large for her general stature.

As we wait to see how big she grows, she's providing a lot of entertainment for all of us, and in truth is probably the best behaved dog in the house. Winston and Avery have grown accustomed to her and she's learning how to deal with their possessive quirks...she outruns them.

She's also learning not to be intimidated, as demonstrated by the short quickly produced video below with which I'll leave you because...the Spurs are about to play.

Go Spurs!

Delivered

2008-04-06T13:17:00.007-05:00

I wasn't in the best place, the why, when and where questions although germane are not critical. Suffice it to say I was drained. Physically I was sick, hacking with a lingering respiratory invasion, and my body already rebelling from spending several hours walking in an unplanned emotion- and anger-driven march. A steady drizzle added to my already clammy state. It wasn't enough rain for people driving by to think I was crazy for walking in it, but it was enough to add to my misery. As my legs sagged, my cough worsened and my mind struggled to recall the old comic strip with the character who had a perpetual rain cloud about his head...

It wasn't only physical, I was emotionally, financially and most importantly spiritually spent.

I had left home in the same dreary drizzle the night previous, on foot in a stew of self-pity, sleep deprivation and solitude seasoned with healthy doses of anger, self-loathing and occasional sprinkles of near suicidal thoughts. The time away did little to cheer my mood or comfort my fatigued body. My soul had thrown in the towel. I was trudging back home because I had no other place to go, and believe me I tried to think of one, but it was senseless. Unless I wanted to chuck it all, everything in my life, family, job, money, career and my future, I had to eventually get home.

It wasn't easy and as I limped past a car rental place my mind scurried with the scoundrels of escape. "Rent a car, max out a credit card and wherever you land...you start new." The whispers were real as was the temptation, but I don't run away, I may shove people away but I don't run from them.

Besides if anything my night away had proven it was that I was no better for it - probably worse. My feet were swelling, I was still feverish, and I was "ripe" having not even brought a change of clothes with me. I was ill prepared to go to Sonic much less "off the grid."

I had walked a couple of miles when I realized I couldn't make it the rest of the way. My legs were giving out, my lungs ached, my feet were begging for relief and clearly announcing that no option that provided such would be rejected, quite possibly including self-amputation.

I was a mess.

I was alone.

I'd been doing it too long, carrying too much, trying too hard, sleeping too little, eating too sporadically, and trying so hard to hold it all together. I was falling apart.

Worse yet, I'd become so accustomed to never asking for help from anyone that when I needed help I didn't know anyone to call.

Sure, I could call this guy or that guy about the only two people on earth who I truly know would drop everything if I called them these days, but they didn't need my burdens and it would take them longer to come get me than it would for me to tough it out and hoof it home.

So I sat...in the gutter. Actually more of a drainage ditch... a culvert I suppose. I was sitting on the edge but I might as well have been prostrate in the sludge below, I was feeling like crap anyway.

I was talking to God...or maybe just to myself or the wind, who knows? I wasn't sure any more which depressed me further. I couldn't go on like this, I wasn't sure I could even stand up and I didn't want to die on the side of a drainage ditch...I didn't...sometimes I had to repeat that to myself or to the wind or to God...maybe.

I hadn't seen Darnell for I don't know how long. He had been the postal carrier in our neighborhood for years and he and I would regularly talk. He was a devout Christian but had not always been so and we shared war stories of God's battles for our hearts. He was a regular part of my life, not deeply involved, we weren't "friends" so to speak, but we were constants in each other's lives. My schedule coincided with his route and more often than not if we didn't talk almost every day, we exchanged waves or honks of the car horn.

Then he was gone. I knew he was unhappy with some things at the Postal Service and I wondered if he had finally said, "I've done my time, I'll take my pension please."

I wouldn't be surprised were that to be the case. Weeks passed, then months and soon we had a new postal carrier who wasn't "new" any more. He'd been on the job for a year or more. He knows our names, I don't know his. He's not as outwardly friendly as Darnell. He's younger whereas Darnell is around my age although having a job where he actually gets to walk around a bit, go outdoors and be in the sun, he's in better shape, not that that's saying much. In any case, time hasn't left as many outward signs upon him as it has etched upon me.

Darnell was quite possibly the farthest thing from my mind that day.

I took a quick evaluation of my situation. I was dirty, tired, sweating and limping but I had to get up and get moving because by my calculations the odds seemed to be rapidly increasing with each passing minute that my obit would be headlined, "Road kill turns out to be remnants of human."

I was hacking and wiping sweat from my eyes when there it was making an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street...a mail truck. Seconds later Darnell was pulling up along side me saying, "Michael? You don't look well. You okay?"

I thought, "Dear God, I'm freakin' hallucinating, my fever must be through the roof."

Here I was at a point I had never been, a depth of despair and doubt I never foresaw myself falling toward and now Darnell reappears out of nowhere at this exact moment?

"Michael?? Are you okay? You really look sick and you're a little off course from your usual walking path."

It had been years since I walked the neighborhood every day and Darnell was certainly familiar with not only the neighborhood but my walking patterns...when I used to adhere to them.

"It's been a rough 24 hours...I don't have the strength to explain, but where did you come from? I haven't seen you in forever!" I rasped trying not to sound near as horrible as I felt.

"Wrestling demons." That was all he said, and it took me a while to realize he wasn't responding to my question.

He was tersely summing up my situation.

"Let me give you a ride home."

I looked at his postal vehicle, there was only one seat and he was in it...the rest of the truck was stuffed to the rafters with mail. I said, "Doesn't look like you really have room."

He then slid open one of the side doors and said, "There's room if you stand on the running board and are strong enough to hang on. It's illegal, and I could get fired, but hop on."

Seeing Darnell made me feel more alive and I knew there weren't going to be any other offers of a ride. Plus if I turned down this offer it wasn't inconceivable to me that somehow my feet might find a way to strangle me.

I stepped onto the running board, leaned back and gripped the door handle tightly. Seconds later we were zipping down the street.

We didn't share any more words except the admonishment from Darnell, "If anyone says they saw me doing this I'll deny it."

Within minutes he had brought me right to my front door. He didn't need to be reminded where I lived, and he didn't need to know why I was in a different "place" on this particular day. He just knew what he had to do.

"Get some rest," he said as I stepped down from the running board and thanked him while trying not to grimace as my feet reminded me that even the few steps to reach the front door weren't going to be easy. I couldn't imagine how I would have made it home on foot or how long it would have taken me.

"One day, I'll explain this to you Darnell, but believe me seeing you today is a major blessing."

"I'm glad I saw you, although 'officially' I was never here."

He closed the door and then drove away somewhat stealthily, like a gang member knowing he was on the wrong turf.

I stumbled into the house, directly into bed.

I whispered a few words to God, definitely God, before I fell into a deep sleep.

"Oh Lord, forgive me. I should never have let it get this far. I should have reached out to You more, rolled these burdens into Your waiting hands. You can have them now. I'm going to get the rest I need. I will get perspective back. I promise."

"Oh, and thank you Father for Darnell. Your message couldn't have been more clear had it been etched on stone tablets. I'm so grateful for Your grace... I'm so undeserving of it too.

Especially a special delivery."

----------------------------------------
*This is a work of fiction lest anyone be confused, or the Postal Inspector go looking for Darnell.

I'm First in Line

2008-04-01T03:38:00.004-05:00

Could there be a better way to start your day>?

Get up and get going...with the new Spazztroids hyper caffeinated cereal!

180 milligrams of caffeine per bowl!

Hey! I'd go for it...from Captain Crunch to Captain Buzz.

It's from the folks at ThinkGeek.

They do this every year.

On this day.

April 1st.

Caught on yet?

Whew...lil' slow on the uptake...you might could really use some Spazztroids...I'm just sayin'...

At least you didn't buy their beta-max to HD-DVD converter.

No joke...NCAA Men's Final Four Hotel rooms are still available!

Inside Stuff

2008-03-31T21:00:00.002-05:00

I can't add anything to this...it's not allowed anymore.

But there was a time when "Radio News" was something you couldn't turn off.

(((Warning this is no longer politically correct))

P.S. Final Four Hotel Rooms Here!

Yeah, I have no shame....20/20 blogging :)