Thanksgiving In Four Photographs

There are four photographs from Thanksgiving that tell the story of how the day went for the Dunnevant’s.

This is the Over The River and Through the Woods shot. We were heading over to Linda’s for the big meal. The rule is supposed to be that Christmas music cannot be played until the return trip, but that rule got violated. 

This was to be the first Thanksgiving ever without Patrick in attendance. We were missing him, missing Sarah... a lot. But, while we were eating the meal, they were busy posting a video of a gorgeous song that Sarah had composed about Thanksgiving and the longing that rises in the heart on this day. It was beautiful and made our day.

Then, there are these people, my brother and two sisters. Life without them would be unimaginable and nowhere near as fun.

Meanwhile, Miss Lucy’s life was being interrupted by our prolonged absences and the presence of her ginormous and incorrigible cousin, Jackson. When we finally returned from our very long day, I snuck upstairs to take a quick nap on my recliner. As soon as I extended the foot rest, she appeared at the door, big old goofy smile on her face. Then she did what she does every single time I attempt such a nap. She deposited herself on top of me, with her back legs on the floor, demanding head skritches. She stays up there for five minutes or so, then jumps down and curls up on the floor at my feet.

I hope that each and everyone of you had as wonderful a Thanksgiving day as I did. God Bless you all.

A Thanksgiving Plea

Ok, I am not a cook. I am not burdened with having to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for anyone. However, I have a lot of experience eating, and as a world class consumer of Thanksgiving feasts, might I make a couple of suggestions? For the sake of all that is holy and sacred, please do not serve either of the dishes above.

Canned Cranberry Sauce

One of the few curses of living in an advanced, consumerist, capitalistic country is the unfortunate fact that if it is possible to put literally anything in a can and sell it at a profit, somebody will. Thus, the persistent survival of this ghastly mistake. Anything with the word sauce in its name should not be able to be...sliced. Moreover, sauce should not respond to the human touch by...jiggling. Generally speaking it is always a dependable rule of thumb that sauce which has...ridges...should always be avoided.

Beets

This lowliest of all forms of vegetable life shares a color with canned cranberry sauce, and is equally revolting. Yes, yes...I know all about how good they are for me, their abundance of iron and whatnot. But the trouble with beets is the fact that cooks the world over have been trying desperately to insert this pitiful thing in recipes since Alexander was only Good. They stew them, broil them, steam them and the meaner cooks out there eventually pickle them, all with disastrous results. Leave them at it long enough and inevitably they come up with a dish called Red Flannel Hash...

If this looks like a skillet full of raw steak, strawberries and uncooked hamburger, you are right. Oh if that were only the case!! No, no...those red things you see everywhere are chunks of beets. Trust me folks, there isn’t enough salt, pepper and hot sauce in the world to make this edible. Because I married a Maine girl, this dish appears all too frequently at family gatherings...like Thanksgiving. Upon reading this I’m sure that my wife and her sisters and parents will leap to the defense of Red Flannel Hash. They always do. It’s a pride thing.

Pretty much anything else that is on the table at Thanksgiving is a winner. But, for the sake of humanity, lose all the purple stuff!!

A New Car

Ten years ago, I bought a car. Ten years before that, I bought a car. So naturally, yesterday I bought a car. I didn’t set out to purchase automobiles every ten years, it’s just worked out that way. It’s the same way with Pam, I buy her a car roughly every ten years. There are several reasons for this, I suppose. First of all, I don’t like buying cars. They are expensive. They are also depreciating assets and I am not in the depreciating business. The fact that the car I purchased yesterday is worth considerably less this morning as it sits in my garage is profoundly disappointing. The process of buying cars, although improved, is annoying, as it involves sometimes ruthlessly disingenuous salesmen and their equally ruthless managers, all intent on separating me from as much of my money as is legally possible. Nevertheless, there I was at Moore Cadillac yesterday enduring my once in a decade unpleasantness.

As is always the case with my car purchases, this one was a demonstrator. Why should I take the initial depreciation hit when I can let someone else do so? Usually the cars I buy have two to three thousand miles on them at time of purchase. This one, happily, had only 227. Like my old car, this new one was also red. I like red cars. They are easier to find in parking lots. I fully intend to keep this one for another ten years.

The problem with buying cars only once every ten years is that when you get a new one, it takes three hours for the sales guy to explain to you how to turn the thing on. The technological advancements in automobiles over the past decade has been astonishing. As my man Bob sat beside me explaining all of the bells and whistles of my new Cadillac XT5, I felt like I did when I bought my first smart phone, “what the heck??” There I was taking my test drive when all of a sudden my seat began furiously vibrating beneath me. At first I thought there might have been a squirrel trapped down there, but was informed that I had merely allowed the car to drift out from between the white lines of my lane. OOOO-K, good to know! Then I was warned that if I was foolish enough to not slow down fast enough because of an approaching backup, first the car’s seat will start to vibrate, then a bright red flashing light will illuminate the entire dash, then the car’s computer will suddenly and violently apply the brakes, along with a caustic warning by Charles, my computer’s British-sounding voice...Hand’s on the wheel, eyes on the road, mate! In fact, it became clear to me as the two hour tutorial continued that there would be many such tongue lashings, flashing lights and beeps directed my way as the new owner of this vehicle. To drive this car will be an exercise in computer based denunciations and stinging invective directed at me for my various shortcomings as a driver by a pleasant but firm British chap who does not suffer fools. I am told that there is a way to shut off this abuse, but I rather think that it will do me good to be dressed down every once in a while by my car. Back out of many parking space too fast and this thing will slam on the brakes and demand to know where the freaking fire is!! Let your speed creep up to 80 on the interstate? Better be ready for old Chuck to chime in, “Yes, indeed. This will be a fine day to die. Proceed!!” Weave in and out of traffic too frequently and my friend will inquire as to whether or not my life insurance is paid up.

As I drove my new car off the lot at 5:30 in the afternoon, after arriving there at 1:00, it occurred to me that this will probably be the last car I buy which allows me to drive. Ten years from now when I’m 71, my final car will most likely be of the fully automated self-driving variety. No telling what kind of backtalk that computer will dish out!

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. A review.

It can be an awkward and confounding thing to encounter a grown man in whom there is no guile. I discovered this last night in a theatre while watching the great Tom Hanks’ portrayal of Fred Rogers in A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. About midway through there is a scene where the character Lloyd Vogel, played expertly by Matthew Rhys, is interviewing Mister Rogers in his tiny apartment in New Your City. Vogel, a hard bitten investigative reporter for Esquire magazine, has been given the assignment of interviewing Rogers for an issue the magazine is doing on American icons. He is tasked with writing a 400 word summary of the famous children’s television personality, but is having a difficult time getting a handle on his subject. Every time he asks the man a question, Rogers finds a way to change the subject to Vogel himself. And now in Mister Rogers’ cramped New York City apartment, he finds himself having a conversation with Daniel the Striped Tiger puppet. It is all suddenly too much, the puppet’s questions hitting a raw nerve from his past, far too close to home, and Lloyd picks up his briefcase and storms out.

My sympathies were 100% with Lloyd Vogel. I remember thinking, Mister Rogers was such an odd duck, man...so strange. I would have probably stormed out too.

There were many such scenes in the film. Another strangely uncomfortable moment came in a Chinese restaurant where Mister Rogers asks Lloyd to do an exercise with him before they ate their lunch. “Let’s have a minute or two of complete silence while we think about all the people in our lives who have loved us into being,” he says. The camera pulls back from the table where we discover every customer at every table following his instructions. The silence continues for what seems like an eternity. Mister Rogers opens his eyes and stares at Lloyd, then slowly turns his twinkling eyes towards the camera and stares longingly into...our eyes. It is at once enchantingly sweet and moving...and slightly creepy all at once.

With our 21st century sensibilities, it’s hard to make sense of Fred Rogers. He just doesn’t seem entirely human. Can anyone be that calm, that comfortable in his own skin, that outwardly focused? Although the point is made many times in the film that Fred Rogers was not a perfect man, the viewer comes away with the feeling that if not, he was awfully close. 

But, the biggest impression that was made on me by this film is how odd he seemed. A man like Rogers should have had a towering ego. The fame that he earned should have dazzled him more. With a career as successful as his he should have picked up more self-promotion skills. What we find instead is a man who seemed drawn to broken people. People like Lloyd Vogel. We discover that Mister Rogers was the only one of the ten men and women who were to be the subjects of Esquire magazine’s hero piece who would agree to be interviewed by Vogel, all the others scared off by his epic cynicism and caustic writing style. Before the interview, we learn that Mister Rogers read every previous article that Vogel ever wrote to get a better idea of what kind of man he was. He detected correctly that Lloyd Vogel was carrying around a heavy burden of anger and resentment towards his estranged father, played perfectly by Chris Cooper. This tortured relationship serves as the basic plot driver of the film. We watch as, slowly but surely, Lloyd begins to open up to this strange man in the cardigan sweater.

Although Mister Rogers was a Presbyterian minister and a man of faith, there is nothing preachy about him. There are no sappy scenes of religious conversion or grand gestures of repentance. Instead, there’s just this graceful, nonjudgmental, grown man telling us the truth about ourselves in the sweetest way possible and looking like an alien from another world in the process. 

I’m sure there are plenty of men and women in the world who have the same qualities as Mister Rogers did. They live their lives away from the cameras, in anonymity, unnoticed and uncelebrated. But Mister Rogers was different in that his life was lived on stage for everyone to see. How many famous people familiar with the glare of fame turn out like Fred Rogers? Precious few. Therein lies the oddness, the disturbing optics of his goodness. The fact that such simple virtue makes us a bit uncomfortable is perhaps the saddest fact about life in America, 2019.

Handicapping 2020

In less than a year from now we will have elected the 46th President of these United States. To get from here to there we will have to endure the 2020 campaign which is just now starting to heat up. It promises to be a tortuous, cringe-worthy slugfest that will call into question our ability as a nation to sustain self government. On the other hand, comedians will have a field day. I have always prided myself on my ability to read the tea leaves of political momentum. In the past I have had a decent record of predicting the outcome of elections in advance. This year I haven’t the foggiest notion of what will happen. Just when I think I have a clue, something weird happens and I’m back to square one. Several times on this blog I have written handicapping posts where I examine the prospects of the various candidates. That’s out the window this time, partially because everything is so out of whack, but mostly because I haven’t watched a single debate and therefore aren’t as well informed as I used to be in these matters. So what follows is more a gut feeling than an analysis of facts. But, since nobody seems to care about actual facts anymore, I feel right at home!

The Republicans

Officially there is only one candidate...the sitting President, Donald Trump. But at the moment he is the subject of an Impeachment inquiry, which calls into question his availability come Election Day. If he survives Impeachment, he will be the candidate. But if he doesn’t, all hell will break loose for Republicans. With Mike Pence being the successor President, he would most likely be the candidate. But, just suppose something happened to disqualify him, or he simply chose not to run? Who on the Republican side of the aisle has the statue and resume to become a Presidential candidate in a pinch? Only a few names come to mind... Condoleezza Rice, Nikki Haley, Mitt Romney, and ??? It really doesn’t matter though, since any candidate who is forced to run as a replacement for an Impeached President has zero chance of winning. So, it’s either Trump or nothing for Republicans. Looking at raw numbers, it doesn’t look good for the Donald. But this is America in 2019. Anything can happen, including his reelection.

The Democrats

I will pretend for a moment to understand the thinking and sensibilities of the Left. I think that of the 157 candidates running for President for the Democrats, only four or five of them have a serious chance at winning the nomination. In my view they are...Biden, Warren, Sanders and Buttigieg. Of those four, Biden and Warren feel like first tier. Sanders is too old and way too white. And I don’t think America or even the Democratic Party for that matter is ready for a gay President. That leaves Biden and Warren. Joe Biden seems old and spent to me, and not nearly liberal enough for today’s Democratic Party which seems to sense a generational opportunity to move the country further left than they thought possible in their wildest dreams a mere four years ago. So, I’m thinking that unless something unforeseen takes place, perhaps a personal scandal pops up out of her past bad enough to damage her, (bringing Hillary Clinton back into the race), its Elizabeth Warren’s nomination to lose.

Senator Warren loves to rail against the rich and has promised a grab bag of fresh new entitlements bankrolled by taxing their wealth. In doing so she has an easier path to victory. Who doesn’t relish the thought of getting free stuff paid for by the filthy rich? She may be right in her view that the American people want more socialism and less capitalism. To the extent that she can convince voters that the bounty of free health care, free college tuition, the wiping out of college debt and the Green New Deal etc. won’t cost us anything, just those treacherous billionaires, she could win. If I were a betting man...I would never bet on politics. But, say I was a drunk betting man...I would bet on Warren. Just in case you’re wondering...who would I prefer as President if it had to be a Democrat? Buttigieg. He’s the only non-millionaire in the race and he served his country in the military and is the only candidate running who passes the beer test—which candidate you would most like to have a beer with. He edges out Joe Biden for that honor.

So, there you have it. Trump v. Warren. Good luck, America.

About This Chick-Fil-A Thing...

I don’t know about you but my social media feeds have suddenly become dominated by Chick-Fil-A. Lots of rage from hardcore fans at the company’s alleged betrayal of their base and accusations of capitulation to the radical LBGTQ lynch mob. All of this coming as the result of a change in Chick-Fil-A’s charitable giving plans.

I will not here debate the specific issue at hand. The defunding of the Salvation Army and the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, depending on who you listen to is either a grave betrayal of Christianity or simply the expiration of their giving contract and a change in giving strategy to concentrate more on local community organizations rather than national ones. I’ll let everyone else debate that. I will simply make this observation...

It used to be the view of most Chick-Fil-A supporters that as a private company in a free country, who they decided to make charitable donations to was their business. This was a practically unanimous sentiment up until about 48 hours ago when this story broke. Now, everything appears to have changed. Now, it is very much the business of a lot of upset customers who Chick-Fil-A decides to make charitable contributions to. I don’t get it...which is it? What’s the difference between LBGTQ activists pitching a fit over charitable donations made to organizations with whom they disapprove, and when aggrieved Christians pitch a fit based over a charity they like getting defunded? Whatever happened to “It’s their business”?

Here’s my view. I don’t eat there often, but I love Chick-Fil-A. They make one delicious chicken sandwich. Their employees are polite and courteous. Their service is terrific. As a result, they make a boat load of money. I am also very gratified that they feel a responsibility to actually make large and consistent charitable contributions in amounts and percentages that dwarf most other companies. But, that’s where my interest ends. I figure that, as a private company, they can make their own decisions about where to give their money. If I find out that they are big contributors to Bernie Sanders or Donald Trump, neither of these unfortunate choices will change the fact that the local Chick-Fil-A I go to still makes one heck of a delicious chicken sandwich, and the guy or girl who operates it had absolutely nothing to do with the charitable donation decisions made in Atlanta. Why would I want to punish him or her anyway? Besides, it’s almost noon and I’m starving!

Blurb

When Jack Rigsby’s wife is brutally murdered in the parking lot of a convenience store, his life descends into an abyss of guilt and grief, made infinitely worse by the discovery that her killer has a connection to a secret from his past. Saving Jack is a story of betrayal, family secrets, grief and the limits of forgiveness.

The closer I get to publishing Saving Jack, the more nervous I get. It’s one thing to publish a blog nearly every day for nine years—over 2000 posts and counting—its another thing altogether to publish a work of the imagination, one which will be open to criticism. I mean, I think it’s good. I’ve worked hard on it and poured a lot of effort into making it better. But, who knows what others will think?

One of the things I must do, I’m told, is come up with a short description of the book...a blurb. My first attempt is above. The question is, if you read only those two sentences, would it compel you to want to read the rest of the story? 

The next thing I need to do is determine a price for the e-book version. How much would people be willing to pay to read a book from a nobody writer like me? Good question. Some say that I should either price it super low or give it away for free. The logic behind this is that since I have two more novels ready after this one, the more people who can be persuaded to read this one, the more people will be willing to pay for subsequent titles. I get it. I understand marketing. But, I’ve been giving away writing for nine years for free on this blog. It would be nice to be compensated for a change. Also, if this book sells zero copies the only damage that will be done will be to my ego, not my checkbook. This is a hobby, not my job. So, I’m thinking I will price the thing at $9.99 and let the chips fall where they may. Depending on how well it does, I might consider having hardbacks printed. 

Got an updated cover art sample from my graphics guy...cool.

Choose Wisely

Six years ago I hired an executive assistant. She’s smart, efficient and dependable. But the best part about her is the fact that she is as unimpressed with me as it is possible to be, the queen of the affected eye-roll, and a world class wisenheimer. Yesterday, however, she was something else. She was wise and discerning...

Me: You read my blog this morning?

Her: Yes! Can I make a suggestion?

Me: Sure.

Her: Every time you write a blog about her you call her your “sick friend” or your “friend with cancer”

Me: Yeah, because I don’t want to use her real name because of privacy.

Her: Sure, but she’s much more than that, right? Sick? Cancer? You’re defining her too negatively!

Of course, she is absolutely right. Those are both terrible modifiers. They only describe what she is going through, not who she is.

This morning, another friend of mine sent out an email devotional like he does every week. In it he talked about visiting Old Faithful out in Wyoming a few years back. He used two words to describe it...magnificent and reliable. I responded by observing how rare it is that we use those two words to describe the same thing. Usually in life things and people are either magnificent or reliable, seldom are both traits found in the same thing or person. Words have power, and what words we choose to describe people is important. Sick and cancer are the two worst possible words I could have used to describe my friend.

So, from now on I will use more appropriate and descriptive adjectives. Words like brave and courageous.

The lesson in this is that words matter. They have the power to bless and curse, to lift up and to tear down, to edify and to label. 

Choose wisely.

Cheap Laughs (are better than no laughs at all)

I was talking with my sick friend this morning when she told me about the most recent symptom of her chemo. Suddenly her hands have started shedding their skin like a snake. Because I asked, she sent me a picture. Holy Cow. Almost instantly I found myself scrambling around for jokes to send her. It felt awkward to be cracking jokes right after she had shared such a disturbing new twist in her journey, but it was almost an involuntary impulse. I can’t help myself. 

But the experience reminded me of one of the worst days of my life from five years ago when my two sisters and I spent a day searching Richmond for a nursing home for Dad. I remembered feeling about two seconds removed from crying like a baby all day long. But I held it together by...telling jokes. 

Shopping For Nursing Homes

I just spent the day shopping for a nursing home for my Dad. In many ways, it was the most heart wrenching experience of my life. I was with my two sisters who seemed so remarkably composed and professional when all I wanted to do was throw something. But I managed to mask my emotions well enough to get through an extraordinarily difficult job that simply had to be done. To make a long story short, we ended up picking the very first place we visited, a remarkably unanimous decision from a family famous for our contentiousness. We felt the power of the hundreds of prayers which were being lifted on our behalf and by the end of the day felt as good about our decision as one can feel about this sort of thing. So, I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression about what follows. 

Throughout my entire life I have dealt with the most unpleasant events with dark humor, some would say gallows humor. They tell me that it is a complex and rather bizarre coping mechanism, but whatever, all I know is, it gets me through some rough days. Driving between nursing homes today I started compiling an assortment of David Letterman top ten lists like, things you don’t want to see in a nursing home, or the top ten indications that you’ve spent too much time shopping for nursing homes…that sort of thing. Sometime the choice is between bursting into uncontrollable sobbing or start cracking jokes. I’d rather crack jokes:

Things You DO NOT Want to see in a Nursing Home:

1. A social activity in the multi-purpose room called “bedpan bingo.”  
2. A banner hanging in the nurse’s station congratulating them on going 37 consecutive days without a patient wandering off the property.
3. You don’t want to stumble upon a rowdy group of PT people playing beer pong with specimen cups.
4. When touring a Catholic home, you don’t want to see red “last rights hot line” phones at every bedside.

Misc. Tips:

1. Just because the Jewish homes smell like delicatessens when you first walk in doesn’t mean that there is no urine smell on the premises. 
2. Before agreeing to take the “dime tour” ask how much the place costs first. It speeds up the process.
3. Even though you’ve done your research online and already know how many “stars” Medicare has given the place you are visiting, ask the admissions guy how many stars the place has, ESPECIALLY if they got a bad write up last year and only got two stars. It’s kind of fun watching him squirm and hearing the fascinating back story.

How You Know You Have Spent Too Long Shopping For Nursing Homes:

1. When it occurs to you that you’ve used the word “incontinence” more times in the last five hours than you had in the 56 previous years of your life.
2. When you decide to ask the woman who has just told you that their skilled nursing unit costs $220 a day, if you could get a discount if you went with unskilled nurses instead.
   
   
   
   
   So, I suppose nothing has changed. I’m still whistling past every graveyard I encounter in this life. It’s probably not the most mature, adult way of dealing with your problems but it works for me. 
   
   
   
   

No Respect

I knew that it was a matter of time before I was going to have to break into my Rodney Dangerfield collection for my friend with cancer. I had been putting it off, not wanting to peak too soon. But with Rodney, you just can’t go wrong. The man was a comedic marvel who’s ability to rattle off one-liners, machine gun style, was unmatched before or since. You all remember his shtick...the guy who got no respect. His themes were basic and universal. He grew up in a rough neighborhood. He never could catch a break. He was unlucky in love. He had a series of ailments for which he always went to see his famous doctor, Vinnie Boombatz. His kids were no bargain either, ugly, fat and promiscuous. And his mother and father? To call them dysfunctional is to damn them with feint praise!!

So, on this Sunday night, I have complied some of my all time favorites by category for your edification.

ROUGH CHILDHOOD:

"I was so ugly my mother used to feed me with a sling shot."

"I had plenty of pimples as a kid. One day I fell asleep in the library. When I woke up, a blind man was reading my face."

"When I was born, the doctor came out to the waiting room and said to my father, 'I'm very sorry. We did everything we could. But he pulled through.”

“After I was born the doctor slapped my mother.”

“One time I was kidnapped and they sent my old man a piece of my finger in an envelope. My old man says he needed more proof!”

"I could tell that my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a radio."

“One time I lost my parents at the beach. A cop was helping me and I asked him if we would find them and he says, “I don’t know kid, there are so many places they could hide!”

STUPID FAMILY:

"I come from a stupid family. During the Civil War my great uncle fought for the West."

“I come from a stupid family. My father worked in a bank. They caught him stealing pens."

"Boy, is my wife stupid! It takes her an hour and a half to watch 60 minutes. My daughter's no bargain either. In public school she was voted most likely to conceive."

MEDICAL PROBLEMS:

"I went to the doctor because I'd swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. My doctor told me to have a few drinks and get some rest."

"I went to see my doctor. 'Doctor, every morning when I get up and look in the mirror... I feel like throwing up. What's wrong with me?' He said, 'I don't know but your eyesight is perfect.”

“Doctor tells me I drink too much. The last time I gave him a urine sample it had an olive in it.”

"My psychiatrist told me I was crazy and I said I want a second opinion. He said, 'okay, you're ugly too.”

MARITAL WOES:

"I haven't spoken to my wife in years. I didn't want to interrupt her."

"My wife had her driver's test the other day. She got 8 out of 10. The other 2 guys jumped clear."

"I told my wife the truth. I told her I was seeing a psychiatrist. Then she told me the truth: that she was seeing a psychiatrist, two plumbers, and a bartender."

"Why, her cooking is so bad that the flies pitched in to fix the screen door. I leave dental floss in the kitchen and watch the roaches hang themselves."

“Who am I kidding? It’s not all her fault. I’m not a very good lover. The other night I caught a peeping Tom booing me!”

If you want to have a good laugh, Google “Dangerfield with Johnny Carson.” His 35 appearances on that show are unmatched. Every joke was his own—he wrote his own material—and you won’t find a single curse word in his delivery. Oh, despite at least a million attempts, he never loosened that red tie!!

What a maroon...

Last night I attended the C.S. Lewis play, The Reluctant Convert, at the Paramount Theatre in Charlottesville. It was fantastic and the actor who portrayed him was delightfully good. Packed house. Wonderful show. Lewis has always been one of my hero’s, his writings did more than anything else to help me work my way through the intellectual underpinnings of my faith, making it real and dependable. To read Lewis is to be reminded of one’s intellectual shortcomings. To listen to his character hold forth for 80 minutes felt like a master class in English Literature, rhetoric, philosophy and religion...with more than enough wit mixed in make it palatable to even the most ardent atheist. A great time.

Then, after the show and a ten minute delay, the actor reappeared on stage, having removed his costume and makeup, to take questions from the audience about the show. It is always a risky thing to offer an audience to the general public because of the undeniable fact that most people are idiots. Sure enough, about four questions in, an older man stands up and offers the following gem. Ok, remember what this play was about, something that it might be easy enough to discover simply by the play’s name...The Reluctant Convert. It is the story of how an avowed atheist, and renowned scholar of classic literature went from being an atheist to becoming perhaps the greatest apologist since the Apostle Paul over a period of 20 years:

“Can you explain to us how it is that C S Lewis went from being a devoted atheist to an ardent believer??”

To which Max McLean relied, “What? Would you like me to do the play again?”

Perfect. Answer.

As that other noted philosopher and scholar, Bugs Bunny would say...what a maroon!!!

Getting Excited!!

Many of you are aware that I wrote a novel a while ago called Saving Jack, and that my daughter has been in the process of editing it so I can proceed with self-publishing it as an e-book by Christmas. Well, I hired a guy to do the cover art for me. He’s a graphic artist by trade and a good friend of Kaitlin and Jon. First, he read the book. Then he shared with me which scene in the book he thought would be appropriate for the cover. I agreed right away. He had chosen well, I thought. Well, last night he sent me his first attempt...

He cautioned me that he still needed to add detail to the kayak and some trees along the shoreline, and I reminded him that the loons look more like ducks than loons, but other than that...I am thrilled to death. More news to come regarding all of this later.

Ok, so I got a text from my son last night asking if I had been watching any of the Impeachment Show on television yesterday. Of course, I hadn’t, being the annoyed and disengaged citizen that I have become, so I said “no”. Then Patrick says “I’m obviously a biased lefty, but my perspective is that this is going very badly for the Republicans in the room...”

Less than two hours earlier while I was at the gym, a friend of mine who can fairly be described as a “biased righty” says to me, “Hey, you watched any of this hearing? Geez Almighty, the Republicans are killing it!!”

Here we are, both sides having already made up their minds concerning the President’s guilt or innocence, finding only confirmation from the proceedings. We hear what we want to hear and see what we want to see. But, these two observers would quickly admit their biases. This thing is going to be determined by how many people watch it and have their minds changed. That’s a difficult thing to predict. My biases are against politicians in general, regardless of party affiliation since I find the majority of them to be self-interested strivers more interested in their own power and prestige than matters of the common good. My gut reaction to all of this is that Trump deserves to be voted out of office, not impeached, that having these proceedings this close to the next election seems calculated. In the parade of stupid things this President has done, this Ukraine business doesn’t, in my opinion, even make it into the top ten!! But, what do I know?

My Friend’s Impossible Week

This week is a big week for my friend, so I felt that I needed to step up my morning joke game for the occasion. I failed.

Me: What do you call it when 7 Austrian children get you to commit a crime?

My Friend: I have no idea.

Me: Von Trappment

My Friend:......sigh

Undeterred, I forged on with:

Me: I heard on the news that Amazon will start delivering custom made shirts to your house within 48 hours.

My Friend: ?

Me: The program is called...Tailor Swift

My Friend: You just aren’t right...

At this point I probably should have dropped it and moved on to trying to encourage her in other, more productive ways. But I didn’t.

Me: Who was the fattest Knight at King Arthur’s Roundtable?

My Friend: I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me.

Me: Sir Cumference

My Friend: Crickets...

Me: Why don’t you ask me how he got so fat?

My Friend: Crickets...

Me:  Too much Pi

My Friend: Sweet Jesus, help me.

The reason today is a big day for my friend is business related. She has a long time client in another city who has 175 employees. Once a year, my friend travels there to conduct open enrollment, since she handles all of the company’s group health, life and dental benefits. She has been nervous about this day since her cancer diagnosis, being careful to schedule it during an “off-chemo” week. It will take four days to complete. It will be a grind. Because of her illness, she hasn’t worked a full day since the middle of September. I have big doubts as to whether or not she should even attempt such a thing. She will be helped tremendously by a dear friend and business associate who she splits this case with. Still, sitting down with 175 employees over four days is a bear of a job even when you’re healthy. But, she will not listen to reason. She is stubborn as a mule. So off she goes this morning.

This is how I know that my friend is going to beat cancer. When I was arguing with her about the wisdom of doing an open enrollment for this many people she informed me that she had to do it because this company and these people have been great clients for over 15 years and they feel like an extended family to her. She loves them, in other words. So she will put on a fancy hat, throw on a dazzling smile and get after it for the next four days, cancer or no cancer.

Tough. Determined. Committed. Stubborn.

...and absolutely no sense of humor!!

Humor is a Funny Thing

What makes people laugh? It’s complicated, as the kids like to say. What makes me laugh might leave you cold. The things that make you laugh, I might think are dumb. So, as it turns out...humor is a funny thing.

My earliest memories of laughing at things centered around the Three Stooges. But the first time I made Pam watch an episode with me back when we were dating she sat there staring at the television, then back at me with thinly veiled horror played out on her face. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. These guys are sadists. All they are doing is playing physical pain for laughs!!” To which I answered, “Exactly!! Isn’t it hilarious??” We agreed to disagree. I still think slapstick, sight gags and a well timed rake handle in the face are funny, but that’s just me.

Later on in life, I became a huge George Carlin fan. Still am. Loved Rodney Dangerfield, Foster Brooks, Tim Conway, Carol Burnett, Steve Martin, and the brilliant physical comedy of Dick Van Dyke. 

Today there are plenty of really funny men and women out there, but there are also comics that I don’t care for. People who I find unnecessarily profane, too reliant on foils, that sort of thing. But again, that’s a personal preference.

Trying to keep my cancer-fighting friend supplied with jokes every day for the past couple of months has been a chore. But I have been helped by several friends who are now sending me collections of jokes to keep my supply full. Some have been really bad, but I so appreciate the effort. Then there’s my sister-in-law, Sharon...

Ok, one of my biggest regrets in life is that I haven’t saved every birthday card that Sharon has given me over the forty years that I have known her. She has what I consider to be a terrific sense of humor. The cards she buys are always laugh out loud funny. She just has the knack, the finely tuned funny bone, and perfect comedic timing. I bring this up because yesterday she sent me a text with an attachment...

In doing so, she introduced me to an entire genre of bad jokes called Confucius Say jokes. Somehow in my bottom-feeding journey of the internet I had missed them. Here are just a few examples of these short, pithy one liners:

Man who have clear conscience usually have bad memory, too.

Woman who puts detergent on top shelf, jumps for Joy

Man who has bird in hand finds it hard to blow nose.

No husband ever been shot while he do dishes.

Man who push piano down mineshaft get tone of A flat miner.

But then all of a sudden, in the midst of a long list of similar jokes comes some really deep and wise things. For example:

Work to become, not to acquire.

He who thinks only of number one must remember that this number is next to nothing.

War doesn’t determine who is right, but who is left.

Even the greatest of whales is helpless in middle of desert.

So, a big shout out to Sharon Nunn. Thanks for the new supply!

A Life to Live and Serious Taxes To Pay

There was an election in Virginia this week and I haven’t had anything to say about it yet, which has probably come as a big relief to the readers of this blog. But, I suppose I should offer an opinion on the results since so many of my Facebook friends haven't hesitated to express their glee/regret. Although I wish I could summon a similarly passionate response, it’s just not in me anymore.

The ballot in Henrico featured a State Senate and Delegate race, Commonwealth attorney contest, Sheriff’s race, a couple of unopposed board of supervisor seats and the all-important County Soil and Water Conservation Board tilt.( talk about your mudslinging!!) So I quickly cast my vote for Senate and Delegate, having made my decision long ago based on the life achievements of the candidates and their personal taste in eye ware. I refused to cast a vote for the unopposed candidates based upon my long standing refusal to do so, figuring that there is no point in feeding any politician’s ego. When I got to the sheriff’s race, I was quite embarrassed to discover that I had no idea who the incumbent was. There were just three candidate’s names with no party affiliation. What was I to do? It was only later that I discovered that there was no incumbent, he had retired. Anyhow, There was one female name and two male names, so I picked the woman on the flimsy reasoning that it might be nice to have a female sheriff. By the time I got to the hotly contested Soil and  Water Commission race, I was flailing. There were five names, none of whom I had ever heard of, and I was to pick three of the five. I left it blank, I am sure to the great relief of soil and water lovers everywhere. 

The big story out of this year’s election was the fact that Virginia is now a blue state, the Democrats having taken over both houses of the legislature to go along with their blackface-painting governor, giving them free reign in the Old Dominion for the first time in ages. According to many of my friends on Facebook, I am supposed to be deeply concerned about this, seeing as it is ushering in the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, or something. Maybe they’re right. Other friends were delighted that the Republican Party of Donald Trump had been rebuked so convincingly. Maybe, maybe not. One friend posted “Republican Party RIP.” Sick, yes...dead, no.

It is historically difficult to predict the future especially when it comes to politics. Things change, people change, parties change. Candidates get swept into office on a tide of either outrage or euphoria, only to overreach once in power then get thrown out a few elections later. I have lived long enough to see this happen to both parties more than once already. But, it is hard to ignore demographics. You don’t have to be a pointy-headed political scientist to see the trends out there. America is changing demographically. There are many more immigrants here now and more on the way. A political party which welcomes them seems to be better positioned for success than a party that doesn’t. America is also changing its view of government. More and more people, especially the young don’t see it as a bureaucratic cesspool of self dealing and incompetence, but a tool for grand programs of social justice and positive change. It appears to me that a party who identifies itself as the party of government is better positioned for success than the party that identifies itself as a party committed to making government smaller and less important...at least for the short term. So, having said all of this, it comes as no surprise that Virginia is now...blue.

Seeing as how I am famously conservative/libertarian you would think that I should be much more up in the pictures about all of this. The fact that I’m not is due to the fact that I’ve learned two essential truths about politics over the years. First, things are never as bad or good as advertised. If Party A warns that Party B will do the unspeakable C if elected, 90% of the time, Party A is full of **it. Secondly, even when my preferred candidates win, more often than not, they don’t end up doing what they promised to do in the first place. I have been promised by conservative candidates for fifty years now that if I elected them they would roll back government spending and bring fiscal discipline back to Washington. It has proven to be the most durable lie in the history of the Republic.

So, for now it would appear that the Democrats have control of my State. My trick knee tells me they will soon have control of the country. It will be their turn to govern with few restraints. They will either be successful at giving people what they say they want, or they will overreach, go too far and suffer reversals in future elections. Meanwhile, I’ve got a life to live and some serious taxes to pay!

Two For Two!

So, this week has turned out to be car care week. Yesterday it was the Cadillac, today it’s my wife’s Hyundai. The beautiful and talented Pam Dunnevant walked in the house the other day and said, “Hey, I just noticed that my inspection sticker says “8”. Immediately, car care went to Def Com 5.

I dropped off the car at the dealership a few minutes ago and began to search Google for coffee shops in this area. Luckily for me, this place was right across the street...

In yet another fortuitous turn of events, this place is also a local establishment, with just one other location in the East End. Yes, I am aware that this is primarily a donut shop, but what is a donut without coffee? The answer is something I never want to experience!

I walk in and am greeted by the lovely Lorena who asks me what she can get me. She does so with a beautiful Latin accent which prompts me to ask her where she is from. She smiles and says “Venezuela. I have been here for two years.” I tell her about my son’s good friend who’s family came here from Venezuela many years ago. She tells me how horrible it is there and how lucky she has been to make it here to America. I tell her how glad I am that she made it and thank her for coming. For a minute it looks like she is going to cry.

She talks me into getting the chocolate glaze, although her original recommendation was the Boston Creme—which incidentally is the WiFi password—but the chocolate glaze looked too good to pass up...

Both the coffee and the donut were excellent. Honestly, I don’t understand how Starbucks can compete with coffee joints that don’t roast their beans beyond recognition, but that’s just me. One caveat, I have watched a succession of customers walk into this place for the past hour or so, at least twenty of them, and every single one of them was...very overweight. So, everything in moderation, people.

So I’m two for two this week with great local coffee shops. 

Get out there and do likewise.

Smaller Things

My Cadillac is getting old and starting to make old sounding noises. I had to take it to Axselle’s Auto to adjust something or other that Dave assured me would fix it’s latest ailment. It wouldn’t take too long, he explained, as he drove me down Lakeside Ave. to drop me off at a coffee shop where I could get some computer work done while I waited. Yes, this is the type of service and accommodation you get as a reward for fifty years of loyalty to the same mechanic, yet another benefit of buying local. Anyway, I walked into Bright Spot Coffee, ordered a cup and an oatmeal cookie from the friendly owner, Janine who informed me that her new shop was all of three weeks old...

The coffee was great, the anti-Starbucks in practically every way—not bitter or overpriced. The oatmeal/raisin cookie I ordered was hand made by Janine and delicious. The table where I sat was meticulously clean. The rock and roll playing on the sound system was turned down to a level that allowed for easy conversation. All this place needs is more traffic. I wish Bright Spot Coffee all the best.

I’ve noticed some things that have come with age, most of them painful and annoying, but others that have been welcomed. First of all, I have become a better listener, something that I struggled with when I was younger. When I was in my 30’s and 40’s instead of listening when someone was talking, I mostly was thinking about the next thing I was going to say. Not so much anymore. Of course, this new inclination to listen has been muted somewhat by my increasing inability to remember stuff, which is quite annoying and more than a little troubling.

Secondly, I’ve noticed that I’m not nearly as dogmatic about things as I was when I was younger. Dogma itself has started to annoy me. I still have things which I believe in passionately. I still hold to the position that there are absolute truths in life which I can count on to be true at all times and for all people. But with age has come a greater willingness to accept my own fallibility on a broad range of topics. Because of this, I find myself much more willing to try to understand people who disagree with me on those topics. As a result, I am learning things, and for lack of a more delicate term...learning to become less of a jerk.

The last thing I’ve noticed is that the older I get the more I am attracted to smaller things. Smaller towns, smaller gatherings, smaller enterprises...like Bright Spot Coffee. There’s nothing wrong with big box stores. They serve a purpose, they make many items more affordable. In many small population areas they are a Godsend. I’m not one of those guys who wants to abolish Walmart or kill Amazon. Their convenience, especially around Christmas, can be a lifesaver. But, if I have a choice, I always will choose a local company. My experience in this little coffee shop this morning was unique. It was unlike any experience that any of the millions of people walking into Starbucks around the world had today. Lakeside is full of places just like this. If you haven’t driven down Lakeside Ave. in a while, you should. When you do, stop in Bright Spot Coffee and say hello to Janine.

Ten Things I Will Never Tire Of

Leave it to my sister to complain about the negativity of yesterday’s blogpost. As a corrective measure she suggested a follow-up blog entitled, Ten Things I will Never Tire Of. Never let it be said that I can’t take constructive criticism, especially when it’s actually a good idea! Here goes:

I will never tire of living in a place with four distinct seasons. In Virginia we get all four of them and the contrast is one of the most genius aspects of creation. 

I will never get tired of baseball. My past enthusiasm for other sports has waned. Football, basketball and golf have all slowly fallen off my sports radar over the years, but baseball has been a constant. Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been for lack of trying. The players’ strike of 1994 was a body blow and tempted me to walk away. The continued existence of the designated hitter roils me, the steroid crisis angered me beyond description...but baseball still endures in my heart and soul.

I will never get tired of sausage. Mild, medium or spicy. Polish, Italian, patties or links. Doesn’t matter.

I will never get tired of writing. For me its very much like breathing, an involuntary reflex that I have no ability to resist. It calms me down and fires me up. It allows me to express myself honestly without the assistance of expensive and annoying therapists. 

I will never get tired of Maine. I am drawn to the place like a moth is drawn to flame. It has the power to transform and rejuvenate like no other place in the world for me. It restores my soul.

I will never tire of the thrill I get from helping someone in need. It’s even more thrilling when you’re able to pull it off anonymously!

I will never get tired of the wonderful feeling I get when all four of my children are standing at the top of the steps waiting for Pam and I to allow them to come down on Christmas morning.

I will never get tired of intelligent, provocative and fearless preaching, the kind that convicts, provokes and inspires in equal measure. Anything less is a colossal waste of time.

I will never tire of dogs. They hold a unique place in my devotion that simply cannot be replaced by anything else. They make my life better in a thousand ways.

I will never tire of the thrill I get when I pull the trigger of my Daisy Powerline 35 and see that squirrel flipping head over heels out of the tree and onto the ground. 

Ten Things I’m Tired Of

At 6:00 in the morning on Monday the 4th of November, in the year of our Lord 2019, here is a short list of some things that I am tired of:

I’m tired of mean people. I’m just over self-centered narcissistic people who treat their fellow human beings with rudeness. I’m not saying that I am never guilty of this behavior because I am from time to time. But when it happens to me I instantly know it and feel contrite and usually rush to make amends. I’m talking about people for whom rudeness is a way of life, people who’s default personality trait is meanness. Enough already. Bring back manners.

I’m tired of advertising that seeks to convince us that we can’t be happy and fulfilled unless we buy the newest, shiniest, top of the line innovation available. In other words, I’m tired of all advertising. I’ve lived long enough, and enjoyed enough financial success to know that it’s all a lie. Things can’t fulfill you. It’s impossible. Seeking and striving after the latest, greatest thing is a recipe for perpetual discontent.

I’m tired of politics, politicians, and those who enable them by believing that they have the power to transform anything.

I’m tired of seeing social media arguments about hymns v praise choruses. Seriously, Christians? This is what we’re debating in 2019?

I’m tired of trying to figure out the right answer to every single hot button social issue of the day. Honestly, I don’t think it’s humanly possible to know the right way to think on everything. There are just going to be things this side of eternity that I don’t understand and will never understand. And, that’s ok. But, precisely because I don’t know the right answer to everything, I need to choose grace and humility towards people who might have different views. Some things need to be left in God’s hands. Let him sort it out. Meanwhile, be kind to people.

I’m tired of our celebrity culture. The adulation we heap upon famous people is disgusting. Watching my fellow Americans trying to look like, dress like, and act like celebrities is profoundly embarrassing.

I’m tired of greed in all of its forms. The salaries of many corporate executives are an outrage, and often do great harm to the financial integrity of the companies they lead. The vast fortunes that even the lowliest Congressmen build while ostensibly devoting their lives to public service is a joke. The money that gets thrown at athletes is obscene considering the fact that the cumulative effect of their salaries has made it next to impossible for a family of four to attend a game without taking out a home equity line. I understand the complexities involved in setting the proper price for goods and services in a free society, but when a CEO makes 50 million in a year when his company loses money and lays off a thousand workers, when a Congressman who makes $175,000 a year ends up with a net worth of 20 million after three terms in Congress, when you start paying utility infielders 9 million dollars a year...something has gone off the rails.

I’m tired of diva wide receivers. Actually, just tired of pro football.

I’m tired of Christmas junk appearing in stores before Halloween.

I’m tired of squirrels and their insistence on existing.

All I’ve Got Left

Baseball season is over. I just finished writing my third novel in five years. Stupid daylight savings time has screwed with the universe to the point where it’s dark at 5:30 in the afternoon. All I’ve got left at this point is the following horrible Dad Jokes:

Women gets convicted of armed robbery. Judge tells her that she can either spend ten years in Prison or sleep with him.

Judge got recalled for ending a sentence with a proposition.

The past, the present, and the future walk into a bar...

It was tense.

Have you heard about that new Italian suppository?

They call it innuendo.

What’s brown and rhymes with Snoop?

Dr. Dre

What happens when you put a vest on an alligator?

He becomes ....an investigator

If you had to put a number on how many times a day your dog barks, what would you call it?

A ruff estimate