Me and Paul

Sitting here, 10:40, back hurting from Friday, and rain falling like it has most of the day. This week's skiing is not looking like a good bet, but I'll bet on it anyway, cause that's the kind of guy I am.

But all is not lost. I'm hanging out here in the living room with my old buddy Paul. Paul McCartney. Of course, he's on Great Performances on PBS, and I'm in my big blue chair, but we're hanging.

A few thoughts on Mac:

First, I'm always surprised at what a great musician he is. His sometimes sappy songs and forced rhymes obscure how fantastic his musicianship is. He's played bass, piano, melotron, drums, water glasses, and plenty of guitar tonight, and every bit sounds good. Of course, he's had plenty of time to practice, but still..... Geek alert: guitar-wise we're talking about his old slope-shouldered Epiphone with the pearl inlays and a really nice sounding Martin. The Epi sounds more like the Beatles.

Second, this guy is the history book. He's playing Heartbreak Hotel and 20-Flight Rock and the Missus says "He sounds like Elvis!" (I said, He always wanted to be Elvis!) Hey Paul, how did you record "Love Me Do"? Oh, like this. What was that sound on "Strawberry Fields Forever"? Oh, just this. How about the opening of "Band on the Run"? Well, then, that's the water glasses, isn't it? The newer songs aren't great (in spite of the gushing reviews) but they're still undeniably him.

Third, yeah, me and Paul have a history. The first album I ever bought (to go along with my dad's Johnny Cash records) was right after I heard this song on the radio - "8 Days A Week". I wasn't too old - probably about sixth grade - but right then I knew THAT was great music. EVERYTHING - the ringing guitars, the crescendos, perfect the harmonies, the youthful, optimistic lyrics, the final chord - EVERYTHING was right about it, and my bicycle took me down to a record store to see if I could find the song by this unknown group called the Beatles. (I wondered if the clerk had ever heard of them :-( He had.....) So what if John was singing the leads? I've still got my well-worn copy of The Beatles' Beat, imported from Germany on Odeon.

My first real concert (not to be confused with school bands or the Harvest Family Singers LIVE!!! at Pantano Baptist Church) was Wings. Me and my friend Tim Kiley rode our bikes to get tickets ($8) then, weeks later, walked down and caught the bus to the Tucson Community Center (mom and dad were going to pick us up). It was June 18, 1976, Paul's birthday. 8,000+ of us singing Happy Birthday to him. Lasers, fog, projection screens, man it was ROCK SHOW at the concertgebau! (google it). I was 14 and fully commited to becoming a rock star.

And then there was the famous "Sunday at Bayless" incident, when I met Mr. and Mrs. McCartney (and their kids) at the grocery store. He didn't seem to remember me from the concert, but was probably just playing it cool. Gave him a nod, he disappeared into canned goods, and when I got home no one believed me. They still don't. But Paul and I do.

Now that I'm old enough to know better, some of Mac's music sometimes grates on me. But hey, have YOU ever written a song as good as "Blackbird"?

Me neither.

OK, it's over and I need to go to bed. The show is called "Chaos and Creation at Abbey Road". Catch it if you can.

Blue Skies and Back Aches

Yesterday I got up at 6:00 and met some friends at the hospital; she was going to have a surgery and I said I'd pray with her before she went in. Afterward I worked for awhile, then found - all unexpectedly - that my afternoon was free.

:-)

Up the hill I go.

The snow was clean and deep, with a new inch on top of well-groomed skier pack. The sky was that amazing, clear blue that only happens in winter, in the mountains, when the storm has passed and the sky is washed of all impurities. It's so much richer than that lowland, hazy "carolina blue"; I think from now on I'll call it "Bogus Blue" (since the ski area is named Bogus Basin).

Not only was the skiing great, so was the skier. It was one of my best days ever. I was the blue-eyed love child of Jean-Claude Killy and Hermann Meier. Fly down Tiger and Triumph, Widowmaker and Wildcat; let it all hang out, and grin at the bottom. Pretty wonderful.

Except when I got off the groomers. Where it wasn't clean it kicked my little, desert-raised backside. For example, the chute (which I wrote about back in January) was that perfect, humiliating combination of dust, crust, ice, and moguls that left the people on the lift above me wondering whether they should laugh or call the ski patrol. I'm going to blame it on my skis, so I can pretend I don't know how skill-deficient I am.

But all in all it was a great afternoon, and I've rarely met any better. And hey, stopping to have a Snickers bar for lunch sounds perfect, doesn't it?

Today I was reaching down to check a heat register and WHAM! My back went out and I hobbled to my office like an old man who's lost his cane. Made for an afternoon about as miserable as yesterday's was fine. Fortunately, my friendly chiropractor (Erik Thompson, 208.853.2277) was willing to meet me - twice - on his day off. Getting cracked around helped a bit, and I'm able to move more now (even though I'm sitting here with a heating pad against my afore-mentioned little desert-raised backside). But I don't think I'll be skiing with the Missus tomorrow, as we'd planned.

Which all reminds me of Matthew 6:24 - take no thought for tomorrow...for sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. Do the best I can each day, deal with whatever comes, and tomorrow will be either better or worse... and I can deal with that, too.

Pictures

I'm a red-blooded American guy. I know that for sure. How do I know? Well, I've got my birth certificate that vouches for "American" and "guy". And it says I'm O+. So there.

So you can expect me to have red-blooded American guy leanings. And I do. I like meat. I like football. And I think women are so much more attractive than men that they must be another species.

But I've never fallen into the trap of thinking that "Men are from Mars, Women are from Playboy". REAL women have flaws (except for my Missus) and don't look like they are about to explode with lust. At least, not around me. And as far as porn goes, my opinion is a lot like C.S. Lewis's:

"You can get a large audience together for a strip-tease act. Now suppose you came to a country where you could fill a theatre by simply bringing a covered plate to the stage and then slowly lifting the cover so as to let everyone see, just before the lights went out, that it contained a mutton chop or a bit of bacon, would you not think that in that country something had gone wrong with the appetite for food? And would not someone who had grown up in a different world think there was something equally odd about the state of the sex instinct (in America)?"

So, although I've seen a few dirty pictures in my 43 years of life, I don't go looking for them, or find them enticing.

But the other night I was buying my groceries and there, RIGHT IN FRONT OF GOD AND THE WHOLE WORLD, was a magazine cover that caught my attention. Some Hollywood Starlet was made up and dressed down; rouged, lipsticked, and blown dry; wearing a low blouse and a high skirt; leering at me like she couldn't go another minute without ripping off my shirt (etc) and mauling my rock hard body.

It was a little embarrassing. I mean, I can understand why she'd want to ravish me, but there in the WalMart check out line? Please!

Actually, I didn't find her exciting. I was a little sad for her (and not just because she couldn't have me RIGHT THEN when she was SO HOT FOR ME!). There's a line somewhere between sexy and crude, between hot and pathetic. Yep, even in America. And somewhere, she crossed that line.

I hope she finds her way back. She's probably a really nice person dealing with all the bad influences that come with living in America (especially if you're young and beautiful). And the Good Lord really does love her, underneath the makeup and floozewear.

Next time I see a magazine cover like that I'm going to pray for the woman. And in the meantime, if you'd like to see something more clever and a whole lot less obvious, check out http://users.skynet.be/J.Beever/pave.htm

It'll give you a new perspective!

I WON!

I WON THE LOTTERY SATURDAY NIGHT!!!
I WON!!! I WON!!! I WON!!!
THREEHUNDREDSIXTYFIVEMILLIONDOLLARS...
IN MY POCKET!!!!!

Honey, quit your job. Buy me new skis. Gooood skis. Rack 'em on top of the new 4 wheel drive Ferrari. While we're skiing in the Alps have someone buy us a new house, slightly larger - 40 rooms should do, each one with a view of the mountains or the river. Make sure even the bathrooms have picture windows. When we get back we'll finance a victory party, a political party, and the party of the first part. Then? New Zealand for a short course in sheep-shearing and kiwi hunting.

Don't forget to tithe ($365,000,000 divided by 10 is ... $36.5 million the church treasurer is going to LOVE this...or standard American accounting practices = $365,000...but we'll go with God's math) and pay the taxes ($240 million; isn't it ironic that the government thinks it deserves more of my money than God does?). What then?

Make a charitable donation or two
adopt an animal at the zoo
pay for research to stop the flu
buy some thousand dollar shoes
a new guitar to play the blues
fund dialogue between the arabs and jews
then hire a ringer from Wallamaloo
to help the Wildcats learn not to lose

There. That's a good start. And it leaves enough for a $199 season pass to schuss at Bogus Basin, as well as an apple pie at McDonalds (2 for a dollar).

Hmmmmmmmmmm. Wouldn't be a bad way to spend a week!

So Lord, when You get ready to bless me with $365,000,000...I'm ready to take it.

Rampant Political Incorrectness

A blonde, wanting to earn some money, decided to hire herself out as a handyman-type and started canvassing a wealthy neighborhood. She went to the front door of the first house and asked the owner if he had any jobs for her to do."Well, you can paint my porch. How much will you charge?" The blonde said, "How about 50 dollars?"

The man agreed and told her that the paint and ladders that she might need were in the garage. The man's wife, inside the house, heard the conversation and said to her husband, "Does she realize that the porch goes all the way around the house?" The man replied, "She should. She was standing on the porch!"

A short time later, the blonde came to the door to collect her money."You're finished already?" he asked. "Yes," the blonde answered, "and I had paint left over, so I gave it two coats." Impressed, the man reached in his pocket for the $50. "And by the way," the blonde added, "that's not a Porch, it's a Mercedes."

3 Sisters

Today I spent some time with my friend Chol. I don't see him often, which is a shame because he's a good guy. Before Christmas I got an email that said his wife, Esther, had been diagnosed with cancer and had only a short while to live. That, sadly, proved true, and she passed away at the beginning of this month.

Esther and Chol are Korean; he's a pastor and she was an on-fire worker for the Lord. When she started praying for you you couldn't understand a thing she said (hey, it was in Korean!) but suddenly you knew she was in the presence of God and taking you with her. Hearing her pray was a great, majestic, joyful experience, and I was always greedy and asked for those prayers.

When someone like that dies, you might wonder "Why? Why her? She had so much to offer!" But that's not really the question. The truth is we're all going to die, all dying right now, and it's only a matter of when and how we cross over the river.

I also got news today about my friend Martha. Martha is uneducated. Tough. Has lived a life as rough as Esther's was beautiful. Martha's gone through things that no woman (or man for that matter) should ever go through, but about 2 years ago she met Esther's Savior. And in those two years she has changed considerably.

I won't tell you all about her life (if you really want to know, ask me). But knowing Jesus and His unfailing love for her has made all the difference. Today she spoke at a Women's Fellowship, told her story, and got a standing ovation. She was probably blushing like a tomato. But blushing or not, if you ever spend some time with her, you'll probably be glad you did.

And of course, sitting across the room from me, watching a guy in a teal leotard and skates (on the tv; I'm not talking about myself), is the Missus. She's between Esther and Martha in age and maturity. (She's the prettiest, too :-) And, of course, she has enough patience and grace to put up with me.

Thinking about what Chol has lost (even if only temporarily) makes me so glad I've got my Missus. She makes my life better in lots of ways, from laughing at my corny jokes (that's an endearing trait, honey; keep it up!) to cooking delicious wontons to walking down quiet streets holding my hand to telling me where to get off (when I need it). I'm sure someday death is going to come for at least one of us, but I'm doing OK with her until then.

(speaking of death, I want to go peacefully in my sleep like my grandma did, not screaming in terror like the passengers in her car)

Anyway, Esther - Martha - the Missus - three good women; each one intersected my life today. One of them never met the other two, but they were all sisters in Christ, and the world is better for having them. Me? I'm the most blessed because I've gotten to experience all three.

His or Hers?

cue: theme music
cue: cheers and applause from the audience
cue: telegenic host Billy Bob Bailey

Welcome, welcome, welcome! It's time to play "His or Hers?", the popular game where YOU see how well YOU know the STC and his Missus by guessing which one owns, listens to, or otherwise cherishes which CD, LP, or cassette. You can win valuable prizes, or just have fun. So, if everybody's ready, here we go!

ROUND 1 - 10 points apiece:

"Born To Run" (Bruce Springsteen) STC or the Missus?
"Best Ones" (4Him) STC or the Missus?
"Greatest Hits" (Buddy Holly) STC or the Missus?
"Saturday Night Fever" (BeeGees, etc) STC or the Missus?
"Duotones" (Kenny G) STC or the Missus?

DING and there's the end of round one. How do you think you did? Get ready to add up your score, because the answers are...






STC - Missus - STC - Missus - Missus.

Wasn't that fun? Now, let's meet our contestants. STC is tall and suave; his favorite color is red and he dreams of becoming an Argentinian gaucho. The Missus is petite and pretty; she enjoys watching dog shows and baking marzipan. And now it's time for round two. You'll notice the questions are a little harder, and there are more points to be earned. So.....let's go!

ROUND 2 - 20 points apiece:

"The Nutcracker Suite" (Tchaikovsky) STC or the Missus?
"I Am" (Earth, Wind, and Fire) STC or the Missus?
"Round Midnight" (Linda Ronstadt) STC or the Missus?
"Shine" (Newsboys) STC or the Missus?
"Worship" (Michael W. Smith) STC or the Missus?

DING Wow! THAT was exciting! Are you ready with your scorecard? Here we go...






Missus - Missus - STC - STC - STC

If you're all right, you could have 150 points now. If you have less than that, you're still alright by me (canned laughter).

In Round 3 there are only 4 questions, but each is worth... TWENTY FIVE POINTS! Get your pencils ready, cause HERE...WE...GO!

ROUND 3 - 25 points apiece:

"Armed Forces" (Elvis) STC or the Missus?
"Golden Age of Rock and Roll" (Various) STC or the Missus?
"Best of" (the Beach Boys) STC or the Missus?
"Back in Black" (AC/DC) STC or the Missus?

DING Are you ready to see who won this round of ONE HUNDRED POINTS?? Pay attention and here are the answers:






STC - Missus - STC - Missus

(wait a minute! what's that?) Hold everything! The judges have a ruling. If you missed "Armed Forces" because you didn't know it was by Elvis Costello... GIVE YOURSELF THE POINTS! It's OUR bad! cheers from the audience

So we've now given away 250 points. It's time for the final round - "His and Hers Death Match". A tough question, but worth 52 points all by itself. oooos from the audience. Are you ready? Do you think you know these two crazy kids? Grab your honey and give him OR her a squeeze, cause this is for all the marbles......

DEATHMATCH ROUND - 52 points:

"Giants Stadium 5th Night" - a Bruce Springsteen bootleg. So, whose is it? HIS OR HERS??????? STC or the Missus?

I'll give you a chance to think on that while Ted Tuscaloosa tells us what the winner will receive. Ted?

THANKS, BILLY BOB! TODAY'S SECOND PLACE CONTESTANT GETS A FUN-FILLED TRIP TO KUNA IDAHO, LEAVING FROM BEAUTIFUL DOWNTOWN MERIDIAN. FOR OUR WINNER, HOW ABOUT...A NEW CAR! THIS LOVELY 2006 CHEVY BY MATCHBOX WILL GIVE YOU MINUTES AND MINUTES OF AUTOMOTIVE PLEASURE...IF YOU ARE TODAY'S WINNER! AND NOW, BACK TO YOU BILLY BOB

Thanks, Ted. Sure hope I win the car sometime audience laughter. But now, let's reveal our final answer, and see who's won HIS OR HERS? And the answer is....

The Missus!
gasp from the audience
That's right; STC bought it FOR his Missus to commemorate her first Bruce concert. It's three hours long, it's dozens of songs, and it's all hers. Well, that's all the time we have for today, but thanks for playing, and tune in again tomorrow for

audience chants: HIS OR HERS! HIS OR HERS! HIS OR HERS! HIS OR HERS! HIS OR HERS! HIS OR HERS!
(fade to black)

WATCH THIS SPACE

Are you ready for America's next great game show? Tune in tomorrow for...

"HIS OR HERS?"

Identify which CDs belong to STC, and which to his beloved Missus, and you could win TERRIFIC PRIZES! Like what? Like an all-expense paid trip to the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France! An oil change from Lubemasters! Beautiful lawn furniture! or even a NEW CAR!!!!!!

So tune in tomorrow for "HIS OR HERS?"





(LEGAL DISCLAIMER: chances of winning are dependant on the number of entries received. Prizes will be awarded at the sole discretion of the judge, who reserves the right to subsitute prizes of equal or lesser value than those mentioned here.)

Yes I Do

Went to the hockey game Friday night, and it was very entertaining. The Missus and I met a couple of friends for Mexican food, then met 2 more friends and we all enjoyed the game - the Steelies won, and looked good doing it.

Woke up Saturday morning and thought I was still at the ice rink. The heater had died on us, so we lay there for an hour saying,
"You want to go check it?"
No, do you?
"If you loved me you'd get up and see if you could fix it."
If you loved ME, you wouldn't ask, David!

Of course the heater's in the garage, where it was 19 degrees, but eventually I got up (in a manly fashion), put on layers and layers and, with screwdriver in one hand and pliers in the other, looked at it and said, "hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm............"

We spent a lot of time away from the house this weekend. Saw a movie. Went to church. Ate dinner out. Went to a basketball game. Stole two space heaters from the church, and hooked 'em up in the bathroom. And this morning I called a guy who came and spent 20 minutes fixing it, then handed me a bill for $111. Money well spent. (by the way, I did call someone else on Saturday, but he never called me back. after that we decided we could tough it out and not pay the weekend surcharge.)

So that's what's happened since I last posted. That, and exciting action on the GPaWF. Someone started a thread about "most annoying songs ever" and we got a serious contender here, my friends, a real fingers-in-the-chalkboard composition:

Boy George's masterpiece "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?"

Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes. Not for your makeup, George. Not for your hair. Not because you're a guy wearing a dress. Just for this annoying song. It's whiny and pathetic. It's moany and weak. It asks a question we're only too eager to answer "YES! Yes we DO want to hurt you, you MAKE us want to hurt you, so JUST SHUT UP!"

If you don't know, or have locked it out of your memory, DYRWTHM was pounded into our brains in the '80s, in a way that no prisoner at Abu Ghraib was ever tortured. It was all over the radio. It was twice an hour, every hour, for weeks or maybe months. I'm so glad Dad never let us have MTV because then I'd have been forced to watch it as well as listen to it. Thank the Lord for small favors.

Yes, it is truly annoying, but now I have a problem (I know, I know - I have many, but only one related to this piece of musical melancholy): My beloved Missus likes it. I admit I haven't asked her; as far as I know in 15 years the song's never come up in our conversation. But our tastes in music are pretty much incompatible. What I like, she doesn't. And what she likes, I run from. Tomorrow this space will feature a quiz, His or Hers? and you can see how well you know us by guessing who owns which CDs. But for now I'll leave you with these two requests:
Pray for me, since she'll be singing it tonight after she reads the blog; and, If you ever meet Boy George, tell him to put a sock in it, will ya?

A Hobby

Everybody needs a hobby. Mine is playing guitar (or bass, or skiing, or reading, or complaining - a hobbyt I'm breaking - or eating Mexican food, or playing on my computer, or ....)

It's best when hobbies can be put together. (One thing I learned in college is that putting things together is good. My major was Political Science, my minor Sociology. After a couple of years I figured out how to take "complimentary" courses - "Minor Political Parties" in PoliSci, and "Struggles for Recognition" in Soc; or, "The Constitution and Civil Liberties" paired with "The Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr."; then I could plagiarize the PoliSci prof in my Soc papers - and vice versa - and they'd both think I was a genius. :-D But I digress...)

I love music, and I'm involved with two online discussion music forums, the TDPRI (http://www.tdpri.com/) and the GPaWF (http://guitaristsprais.forumsplace.com) . TDPRI stands for "Telecaster Discussion Page Re-Issue" - a telecaster is the world's most essential electic guitar - and GPaWF stands for "Guitarists Praise and Worship Forum". So, see? I'm playing guitar and talkingguitar and get the best of both worlds.

So I check in on these forums every day or few, when I have a little time. After lunch. Or when the Missus has retired early. Or whenever. The TDPRI guys (and ladies) are really cool, and have lots of great (and sometimes hilarious) information about guitars. The GPaWF folks are less guitarocentric and include more spiritual discussion (things like prayer, writing better worship songs, encouragement, and the merits of chalupas vs chile verde).

Anyway, after lunch I was reading (and writing) on the GPaWF and realized I was working on my 300th post. 300! That's a lot of thoughts (or at least posts). That qualifies me as some kind of webcrawling fiend! Even if it did take me a year and a half. Hey, for me to think of 300 things - semi-intelligent and spelled correctly - is a big accomplishment. For this big event I owe myself a milkshake, and to those who read my posts I owe an aspirin.

So... thanks to all you pickers and grinners who make my cyberworld a little more interesting. I'm going to turn off the computer, put down my guitar, and head off to watch a hockey game (go Steelies)... maybe eat a burrito on the way.

Hit him again! (burrrp) TWANG!

Coincidence?

I've noticed in the past two weeks that God is on the move. As I told someone today, "I don't know what He's doing, but I've known Him long enough to know He's doing something."

* 2 people have expressed interest in buying some property from our church. I was praying about what we should do with all our land, then they came looking for me.

* One of them offered to help with the Watoto Choir arrangements. This was someone I had only just met.

* On a related topic, my car wouldn't start yesterday (yes, I left the lights on; it's the time of year when we leave the house in the dark, but arrive at the office in the light, and can't tell) so I had to hang around the office an hour longer than I meant to...which meant right before I left (in fact, thanking the person who gave me a jump) I was there to receive a phone call from someone who wanted to help with the land transaction.

* I was reading this morning and praying on Mark 10:35-45 (the disciples asked Jesus who would be the greatest in the Kingdom, and He told them, "whoever would be great among you must the servant of all, and whoever would be first among you must be the slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and give His life as a ransom for many.") when a friend dropped by to talk about...leadership.

* The heater went out. Turns out someone I work with has a cousin who's a heater repairman. It'll be fixed tomorrow.

* I called an old friend, a ex-ministry partner in fact, for the first time in months... hung up on him, and 10 minutes later he walked into the place where (unbeknownst to him) I was.

There've been several other things, too. Someone told me, "It seems like things just sort of flow together in your life!" and I said, "Yep. Not always. But when God starts moving, and I'm in the place He wants me (which means being a lot more submissive and seeking than I usually am, I'm afraid) that's what happens -life flows.

When we get in line with the Lord, then He is able to give us the blessings He wants to. That includes leadership and direction more than material blessings. I know, I know, the blessings you want include a Porsche, a dream trip to Nepal, and a pony. But those things, in my experience, are pretty far down God's list of things you need. (Of course, if He WANTS to give me the Ferrari and the new Gibson 335, that would be OK, too.)

Psalm 25 talks about this blessing zone: "Who is the man that fears the LORD? He shall teach him the way He has chosen." That's the person to be, and the place to be. Pray for me, since my little feet do wander. And I hope you get to your own blessing zone soon!

Re-Roughing It

Last Friday I wrote a post ("Rough Day") about my Dad, and a biography of him my mother wrote. Over the weekend blogger.com (the host) had some problems, and that post seems to have disappeared. My missus still had it in her e-mail, and because it was important to me I'm going to post it again. If you read it before, and don't want to read it again, you can stop now!

Be blessed

>>"ROUGH DAY"<<

Today was not what you'd call fun. First of all, I was up late last night waiting for the new nano to load the 459 songs - that took awhile through my usb1 port. Then I had to get up this morning and finish all the things that needed to be done for a big event tomorrow (pray for me in the morning - meeting with a bunch of guys for an extended prayer meeting to work on getting humble and right with God and each other).

But the problem started with my mom. She's helping my niece (a sophomore at Baylor) on a family history project, writing essays about Ashley's grandparents (my dad and mom) and dad (my older brother). So yesterday she sent Ashley, and the rest of us, a very sweet, informative bio of my dad, who died about 15 years ago of pancreatic cancer.

It was tough to take. I read through it and then put it aside, and then read it again today. It was like rolling back time, getting to know dad again, getting to see him as a young guy just starting out, fill of enthusiasm and sparkle, falling in love with his wife and then his kids and then his grandkids. She took us through his career years. Then she told us about his sickness, how he faced it, and how, finally, it took his life. Or, should I say, released him from his failing body and let him go to that better place?

Anyway, the first part was great, but the last bit - whoooooooo. Hard stuff. I wasn't there when he died (my younger brother was), but Mom did a good job of painting a picture of his last few weeks - pain,toughness, weakness (my dad weak?), and finally slipping away, while my brother sat beside him in the hospital, waiting for the doctor.

Suddenly it poured back to me, like the day it happened, when I was told and my legs were kicked out from under me and I had to hold onto the bathroom sink to keep from falling, then deciding why not? and succumbing to the collapse. Someone once said "When a parent dies your world will never be perfect again. It may be very good, but you'll always have to say, 'if only my dad could have seen this....'" So, my time was 15 years ago.

And today it poured back in great big sobs, loneliness and ache and - in a different, more mature way - compassion. I wish I had been there, I wish I had held his hand in his time of need, while he was fighting, passing, wish I had been there to give him a hug as he went on his way. But in fact I wasn't, and couldn't have been.

I grabbed a piano and tried to craft my emotions, my pain, my loss, his need, into a song. Yeah, I wrote it. Yeah, I liked it. But I probably won't be able to sing it for a long time, since it broke me down when I tried to sing it. Every time. Even though it ends with a positive strain, a word of hope and strength and release into the eternal mystery of our God.

That's the great perplexity of being a Christian. We long for heaven, but are truly of the earth, too. We know the Great Joy, but experience the sadness everyone else does. And life doesn't end, but we regret losing this part of it, because some of it is so amazingly beautiful. I mean, grandkids? autumn afternoons? walking in the forest? a soft kiss? God was ON when He thought up those things!

Someday we'll all leave them behind, one way or another. Some of us will spring into the enfolding presence of our Savior. In the meantime, we deal with earth's sorrows and ask God to help us put everything into perspective.

We are dust, we are grass,
we are made from the earth;
to the earth we'll return one day.
But we'll rise when He calls
and we'll live in heaven's halls
Gloryland is our home someday.

Gloryland, Gloryland
We are bound for Gloryland
Gloryland, Gloryland
Movin' on to Gloryland

World Champions

The Missus and I were watching the Super Bowl pregame yesterday when we saw something exciting. Now, it's not that 147-hours-straight of stats and opinions AREN'T exciting, but this was moreso.

Mike Holmgren is the coach of the Seahawks and (of course) was sort of involved in the game. His wife, however, had other things planned. Now, it seems to me that when I reach the pinnacle of my professional career (even if it's for the third time)I want my family around. But Mrs. Holmgren had arranged to take a trip, and it sure wasn't going to be to Detroit in February!

She's a nurse, and her trip was to teach health and hygiene in the D.R. Congo. And she decided she wasn't going to let the Super Bowl get in the way.

I've got to say she became one of my two Super Bowl heroes. Most of us would have rearranged things, said, "Well, I need to go to the game." In fact, MOST of us are happy to cancel things if a "better option" comes along. (I once had a date cancel on me because her roommates were making spaghetti. I guess she really liked spaghetti. Or..... never mind.) But Mrs. Holmgren said "Super Bowl or humidity, bugs, squat toilets, and disease? I'll take the Congo for 1000, Alec." What a woman!

My other hero was her husband. He was all in favor of her going. Sure, she could have looked at the calendar before she booked her trip. Sure, it would be nice to have her along (especially after the Seahawks lost). But Coach Mike was fine with her going, and in fact supportive.

The Holmgrens are Believers (that is, they have chosen to believe that Jesus Christ is the Lord, trusted Him to forgive their sins, and try to serve Him with their lives). I like to think that when big decisions come to this Believer (or little ones, for that matter) I'll choose as well as they did. They are champs, no matter what the score of that other game was.

459

459 seems like a pretty big number, I guess. That's how many songs are on my nano right now. I think I mentioned before that it was a gift, for which I was truly grateful (you all know who you are!). But now I have reason to be doubly grateful.

See, I filled it up. Well, not quite. I'm a little over 1.8 gigs, and it holds 2. Or, to put it another way, there's room for almost 40 more songs. But the problem is... I've got a lot more than 40 songs left to put on it. 50 more just from VOL's Summershine, Robert Randolph's Unclassified, Santana's Essential (after leaving off the really inferior 80s stuff), and Casting Crowns. Add to that some old stuff (Chuck Berry, girl groups, Drifters, and the incomparable Buddy Holly), classical (mmmmm Verdi), and maybe Pirates of Penzance or Les Mis, and you see my problem. 459 is just a number quickly receding. Like low tide. Or my hairline.

That's where the double blessing comes in. One day the Missus and I were talking and she was amazed that I'd filled it up (well, almost). She also started thinking Hey, I'd like one of those...but I don't have nearly as much music as my beloved Husband... but if I'm going to get one...why not get a bigger one and swap for his? That way we'd BOTH be set!" And lo, she made it so: she bought a 4 gig-er last weekend and swapped it for my 2 gig-er. What a wife!*

Of course, there were strings attached. I've got to load hers (my old one) with her music AND NO COMPLAINING ABOUT THE BEE GEES; I've also got to teach her how to update it. And I'm planning to buy her a cute pink sleeve for it, just to keep it new and pretty (shhhh don't tell her!)

So that's that. Double blessing, and double gratitude, to my friends and my wife. Now if I can just figure out how to keep his 'n' hers libraries, I'll be set. If you know how, clue me in and next time I see you I'll buy you coffee. Or let you listen to BB King's immortal Live at the Regal (but you've got to bring your own earbuds).


* or, to put it another way
aint no woman like the one I got
(oh no they don't come better)
to make her happy doesn't take a lot
(she don't ask for things, no diamond rings)
we go together like a hand and glove
(like pages from a letter)
ain't no woman like the one I love
(oooooooooh!)

Working & the Computer

So we got back to town about 6:15 last night. Thanks to my brother, the Bear, and his lovely family for picking us up at the airport. We made it up to them by handing over a great big loaf of SF sourdough bread. They seemed appreciative.

I spent the day catching up on everything I'd missed since last Wednesday; there was plenty. In the morning I did some paperwork and finished up a newsletter before going to a meeting about selling some property. After an hour of running around and eating lunch, I checked the e-mail.

OK. E-mail. E-mail is good. But do I really need 70 pieces in four work days? 70 pieces of unsolicited junk e-mail from people I've never heard of, people with names like CndY Mul7qrtsd? And why do they think I need so much investment advice? And more importantly, who's been telling them that I lack virility? I always thought my manhood was pretty secure, but apparently the drug companies know something I don't. While Google is complaining about the US Government's attempts to find out about child porn, I think I'm more concerned about those who are looking into my pants! (oh, it's probably my own fault - I shouldn't wear those low-hanging, butt-dragging, ground-flopping jeans that show off what's below the waist. how can I blame them for checking me out?)

But since I'm on the topic of Google... they're making a big deal about Uncle Sam trying to gather info on how much child porn traffic is out there. They're complaining because the Feds have asked them to keep track of certain sites, to see how often they're hit. They call that an invasion of privacy (although no names are attached to the survey) and an infringement on free speech (even though child porn isn't protected by the constitution, and it's waaaaaaay beyond even the Supreme Court's broad definition of free speech...although not, I suspect, beyond the ACLU's.)

Meanwhile, Google has agreed with the government of China to supress searchs of words like "freedom", "democracy", "election" and other terrible topics. They say it's so the Chinese will have some access to the internet (and maybe to their ad-riddled website). BTW, this is the same company that last year handed over the e-mail records of a journalist the Beijing Big Brothers had accused of sedition (you can guess what happened to that poor dude!) No other major search engine (that I've heard of) has refused to help Uncle Sam's quest to protect kids, and no other major search engine (that I've heard of) has made such a deal with the devil in China.

In a nutshell - according to Google, free speech includes child porn, but it doesn't include "liberty".

Do with that info what you will; I've got to get back to my busy life. I still have to find out who's been saying I need botox.

For more on google.cn check out http://www.cnn.com/2006/BUSINESS/01/24/google.china.ap/