A Proud Parent

I do my fair share of bragging about my kids. Over the past year there have been numerous entries testifying to their many triumphs. This is, after all, my blog and I can write whatever I wish. I have, however, tried to not pile it on too thick. They both have significant flaws, most of which clearly inherited from their distant relatives. Parents who lavishly praise the most benign accomplishments of their children as if they had just discovered cold fusion have always irritated me. I actually saw a bumper sticker the other day that proudly proclaimed, “ My Kid Got A Hole-in-One At Putt-Putt Golf! “ Really? By all means, let’s immortalize dumb, blind, luck on the back of our automobiles. What’s next?...”Proud Parent of a Potty-Trained Toddler”. Nevertheless, it’s time for another tribute to the development of my children into adults, no small feat when everywhere I look I see twenty-somethings living out their interminable adolescence.

Kaitlin is in grad school at Wake Forest. She is surrounded by students and faculty who daily mock not only religion, but the religious. It would seem that the famously tolerant Ivory Tower set can’t quite bring themselves to tolerate the Christian faith that created the very institution that grants them tenured protection and the freedom to openly ridicule their benefactors. In the midst of this hostility, my daughter is quietly gaining a reputation as the rarest of scholars, one who has the ability to communicate complex ideas in a clear and understandable way. She has made several oral presentations in her time at Wake and each of them have been praised by fellow students as well as professors. Many of these students and professors know that she is a believing Christian and therefore treat her with bemused fascination, much as how an anthropologist might observe a newly discovered race in New Guinea. But through it all, she has gained the respect of her fellow students who see something special in her intelligence and grace. They see what her parents have always seen, a powerfully inquisitive mind combined with a tender heart that abounds with sensitivity to the needs of others over her own. She has overcome initial doubts about her intellectual fitness for such a program, and now is excelling and winning admirers along the way, fulfilling the charge of the Apostle Paul to ..” become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe.”

Patrick graduated from college two months ago. Instead of coming home, getting a job and saving some money for grad school to come in 9 months time,(my advice), he asked if he could stay in Nashville. I was skeptical. It seemed a foolish waste of time and money. I warned him that my financial support of his college career ended with receipt of his diploma. My hopes for him finding dependable gainful employment were not high. But he informed me the other day that he in fact had gotten a job as a waiter in a high end burger joint/ coffee bar and bakery. “ Huh?”, I said. To my amazement, he is learning the waiter thing on the fly and doing quite well with tips, to the point that he established a savings account for himself. The kid is working a lot of hours and paying his own way in the world. In the meantime he is also thriving in the city that he loves, surrounded by tons of friends and creative people that make him a better musician. As I write this he is stuffed in a car with a bunch of friends driving to Atlanta where the a cappella group that he founded three years ago , the Belmont Beltones, hopes to win a regional competition. Even though he isn’t in the group any longer, there he will be, cheering them on like a proud parent. I know many of the kids in that group, and if one can be judged by the company one keeps, then Patrick has become a wonderful young man. He’s where he wants to be, working on his music, and busting his hump to pay the bills by doing honest work day and night. Awesome.

Too bad I can’t fit any of this on a bumper sticker.

War Stories From an AmFam Veteran

I’ve been a member of American Family Fitness for almost 8 years now, ever since my surprise open- heart surgery in 2003, amazing how getting cut open focuses the mind on fitness. On the whole, AmFam and I have gotten along well. I have a flexible work schedule that allows me to work out in the mid afternoon so I never have to fight the crowds. The Short Pump gym is a brand new facility and has everything I need with the added bonus of being minutes from my house. However, after 8 years of any relationship, there inevitably arise…how shall I say??...challenges.

At AmFam there is a policy against cell phone usage. There are charming little signs posted throughout spelling out the prohibition in all areas except the lobby. In addition, a public service announcement randomly runs on the ubiquitous television screens that loom about the place reminding us all of the reasons for the rule, to wit, courtesy towards other members and a concern for personal safety. I must admit to an appalling lack of Christian charity in this business of personal safety, since it would be awesome to see some self-absorbed, hot-shot walk face first into the fist of some guy doing a chest fly because he just HAD to talk to his BFF in the middle of a workout! OMG that would be worth three months of dues right there. Courtesy, on the other hand, is a different matter. The kind of people who can’t go an hour without being connected to their cell phones, constitute the lowest of the low of human development. These guys and girls are the type whose lives are of such grand importance, whose existence so complex and fragile, that they simply cannot run the risk of being off the grid for even thirty minutes. Just yesterday, I was running my 3.5 miles on the treadmill when I was joined by a portly young woman three machines down. In the 35 minutes that followed, this unfortunate woman spent 30 of them engaged in trivial conversation with what seemed to be three different people. Since she came equipped with Bose headphones and a hands-free Blackberry, she couldn’t hear any of my suggestions that she was in clear violation of the Gym cell phone policy. Which brings me to my first complaint, in 8 years, I have suffered through an endless stream of cell phone knuckleheads but not once have I ever seen any member of management ask anyone to stop using their cell phone. I guess it’s going to take a tragic accident before management gets serious about enforcement. A tragic accident maybe like some annoying woman in the midst of a crucial discussion with her BFF about something of earth shattering importance tripping over a barbell and then getting impaled by the bench press bar, the ultimate dropped call!

Complaint number two. There’s this guy at my gym who I have never actually seen working out. But I do know that he is an ex-marine. I know this because of his military haircut, and the loads of ex-marine gear he wears, cap, jacket etc.. The problem with this guy is that he spends 90% of his time at AmFam standing buck naked in front of the sink in the men’s locker room removing his nose hairs with tweezers. Now, when I say ex-marine I mean that in every possible way. This gentleman is very large and in an advanced stage of physical decrepitude. So when he bends over to inspect his nose at close range his back-side poses a real and present danger to any small children that might wander by. They could get lost and never be found again. So…Marine guy, your uh,.. rear echelon needs some covering fire in the worst way man. Semper Fi.

Complaint number three. Whenever I chose to run on the indoor track instead of the treadmill, I invariably run into the group of women who take up all four lanes talking about Paula Deen recipes walking along at the brisk pace of 1 mph. So each lap I have to yell out ..”coming through”, which takes them forever to do causing me to slow down. It’s like the feeling men get when they realize that the tee-time just ahead of them at the golf course consists of four silver-haired women all dressed in pastels, two of whom turn out to be left handed. Ughhhh….

What follows are not complaints, simply observations that one encounters at AmFam on any given day:

@ the skinny- armed guy who wears the biggest, baddest leather support belt known to exist in the free world. He also carries his drinking water in a gallon jug. Hardcore!

@ the mid-twenties guy with perfect hair who works out in extremely tight spandex and literally can’t take a step without checking himself in the mirror.

@ the New Years Resolution crowd that always annoys everyone else for a few weeks in Janurary then disappears.

@ the alarming number of people on staff at AmFam who could stand to back away from the dessert bar every once in awhile themselves!

The Canvas Bag....the conclusion

Some kind of light seemed to be coming from the bottom of the box. Bernie checked on David again, and his condition seemed worse than just a few minutes before. Bernie realized that he was dying. Something in this room was killing him. He returned to the box and began emptying it of its books. At the bottom he saw the money, green and neatly arranged in tidy rows.

David felt raindrops hitting his face. He opened his eyes slowly and saw hundreds of droplets of icy water clinging to the ceiling of his room. Drops were falling casually like rain off the leaves of the ficus tree at the park after an afternoon shower. He turned his head slowly towards the kitchen and saw Bernie kneeling down at the fireplace. David wanted to speak but couldn’t make his mouth form the words, so he laid there helplessly watching Bernie burning each pack of one hundred dollar bills, one by one at first but then all at once. The flames rose higher and higher and soon Bernie backed away from the heat.

Bernie watched the flames rise and wondered if he had been a fool. It was more money than he had ever seen before, more than he or David would ever see again, and there it was going up in smoke. First a fire had taken away David’s family and now it was destroying his fortune. Bernie had decided the whole business in a flash, in response to an unspoken assurance in his soul that it was this money that was killing his friend. He had grabbed the matches and lit the fire in a flurry without giving himself the chance to second guess himself, and now it was too late. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the flames.

David began to feel the warmth, then the feeling in his arms and legs returning, and then the strength of his voice. He threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. By the time he stood to his feet, he had lost the anger. Bernie turned to him and didn’t seem surprised at his transformation. “It was killing you Davey. The money was killing you. I’m sorry”, Bernie slumped back into the kitchen chair.
David watched the last of the money curl up and disappear. “ But what will I do now? I have nothing.”

“Nothing? You’re alive, and you have the rest of your life.” Bernie reached into his jacket and removed the small cardboard box and tossed it on the table. “And you’ve got this. It’s the only part of that money that was redeemed because you gave it away. Well, now I’m giving it back to you. I don’t need it, but it might help you start over.”

A couple of weeks later Bernie drove David to the bus station. David headed back east to start fresh. Bernie would never see David again. Fifty miles into the trip, David removed his jacket to use it as a pillow against the cold window. A note fell out of his pocket. It was written in Calligraphy…Isaiah 42:16. David smiled and removed the white canvas bag of books in the overhead compartment and found his bible.

“ ..and I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. “

David laid his head against his jacket and closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly, gentle and soft.

The Canvas Bag....part seven

“ Yes, I have.” Bernie had gotten his voice back. He backed away from the table and stood erect. “ How could I not ? Look at yourself. You hardly work anymore, you’re putting on weight, your eyes look like you haven’t had a nights’ sleep in months. You’ve treated yourself like a murderer for nearly five years now Davey, and it’s starting to show. I’ve been waiting for the day that you would finally forgive yourself for all of it, but you’re getting worse, not better. So, lately I’ve resorted to the word of God. So yes…I’m the one responsible for the notes!”

“ You really think that guy was with the mob? This isn’t New York or Chicago Bernie. Why would the mob bother showing up in Fresno? “

“ You always change the subject when we actually talk about something that matters! You always want to talk about the little things, not the thing that is killing you.”

“ I think the mob is pretty big.”

Bernie dropped the subject and sat back down. A long moment of chilly silence passed between them. The longer it went on the heavier the air became. David knew that Bernie was right. He had never allowed himself an ounce of grace, not a single moment of forgiveness since the fire. Now, the money had only made it worse. Why had he of all people stumbled upon such a fortune? It was unfair beyond description, so unfair it bordered on the comical.

“Listen Bernie, I don’t know anything about any money in the park, so you can stop worrying. “

“ Who said it was money? “

David looked away and said nothing. Bernie asked no more questions. When he reached the door on his way out, Dave put his hand on Bernie’s shoulder and said, “ Leave it be Bernie. “ Three weeks passed. The man in the black suit never came back, and David had seemingly vanished. Bernie began to ask around and discovered that David hadn’t been on the corner in over two weeks. He worked up the nerve to pay him a visit at the boarding house. No one answered the door. Bernie reached for the knob and despite the clammy heat in the hallway, it was ice cold to the touch. He turned it and heard a click. David had left his door unlocked.
David’s room seemed to have its own atmosphere, everything seemed heavier inside than it had out in the hall. Bernie’s coat pressed down harder against his shoulders, his clothes seemed suddenly made of iron. The room seemed oppressive and sinister, like something not altogether of this world. The walls and ceiling were oddly pale blue and shimmering with streaks of silver that diminished as they got closer to the kitchen and fireplace. Bernie was shocked to find David in bed, shivering under icy covers, his face hot and streaked with sweat, and his eyes red-rimmed and vacant. He tried to revive him, calling out his name, but David was silent and burning with a fever. Bernie ran to the sink to run water on a rag. When he looked back at David he noticed what seemed to be an ice-encrusted box, blue and glowing , under the bed. Bernie had to wrap the dish towels around his hands to get a grip. It finally broke free and slid out from under the bed. Bernie could make out only books through the clear ice. But whatever on earth was wrong with this room was coming from this glowing blue box. He began to search the kitchen for something that he could use to break the ice. He needed a hammer and a screw driver but could find nothing, except a hard edged metal dust pan in the closet. Bernie knelt down beside the box and began to chisel through the ice. It was a slow and painful progress. David lay as still as the dead, making no sound and responding to none of the flying ice chips and scraping noises. Bernie’s hands had begun to bleed, dripping down onto the icy surfice and blurring it red. Suddenly the ice let out a loud crack and cleft into two big blocks, crashing to the floor and sliding away leaving a trail of blood and water. Bernie saw only books, amazingly dry books.

The Canvas Bag.....part six

Bernie’s was closed. A sign hung crooked on the door. Bernie’s was never closed at eight o’clock at night. David took the bus to Bernie’s neighborhood. He had eaten dinner there many nights after the fire. He would have to choose his words carefully. Bernie was a good man, but enough was enough. The door opened only a few inches and Bernie’s face looked past David as he let him in. Something was wrong. Bernie looked scared.

“Hey Davey. What brings you all the way out here?”

“Why is your place closed? I dropped in to have dinner and there was a closed sign on the door. You never close. And while I’m at it, I’ve about had it with these bible notes you keep leaving at my room.”


David felt ashamed as soon as he had said it. They might not even be Bernie’s notes and even if they were, Bernie was probably his only friend in the world. Bernie made no defense. He motioned for David to follow him into the kitchen. He turned off the light in the foyer and briefly walked down a short hall in total darkness, then flipped on a light switch as they entered the kitchen. David noticed that every window shade was drawn.

“I think I might be in trouble Davey.” Bernie’s voice was timid and shaky, hushed in an exaggerated way. “ I received a visit a few days ago at the diner from a large man in a black suit who spoke with some kind of accent. I had never seen him around before. Anyway, he was asking questions about the park, that since I was the guy who knew everything about the neighborhood, I should know everything about everyone who used the park. He said that he worked for a man who had lost something very valuable in the park. He wanted to know who I knew that used the park. Of course you immediately came to mind, you’re practically the only one I know who uses that park what with all of your reading and such. Of course I didn’t tell HIM that. But he was very insistent, said that it was very important to his boss that this thing was returned to him. I think he’s with the mob Davey. Before he left he said that if I helped him I would be handsomely rewarded.” Bernie was breathing heavier now, his eyes wider, fear palpable on his face. Then he got up and walked over to the pantry door, walked in and then returned with the cardboard box that David had miled to him.
“ I had almost forgotten about the whole thing when I got this in the mail yesterday…ten thousand dollars Davey! There was no note, no nothing. Just ten thousand dollars!! It had to be from the mob man. Who else do I know who would send me ten thousand bucks, even if they could?”

“ First of all, you need to calm down. Maybe it’s just a debt of gratitude from an old customer who you gave free meals to years ago who went on to strike it rich someplace and didn’t forget about you. There are probably fifty people or so who might fit that description. Maybe it’s Flannigan, overcome with guilt for not tipping you for twenty years. Who knows?”

“ Davey, tell me the truth. You’re in that park all the time. Do you know anything about this?”

David looked into Bernie’s eyes and wavered. Why did he have to be so earnest, so decent? All we like sheep have gone astray? Not Bernie. If he was ever going to unburden himself about the money it would have to be here and now. “You tell ME the truth…Have you been leaving bible verses in my mail slot?”

The Canvas Bag...part five

A week passed, then another. David managed to spend enough time in the fields so as not to arouse any suspicion, but he noticed that he wasn’t getting picked as often. The effort wasn’t there, and stronger, more desperate backs were always available. David was starting to feel more comfortable. He had been very careful. He had gone out one rainy day to Sunnyside and bought a radio. He placed it on his kitchen table and listened to baseball games from the Midwest. The Cardinals would come in on clear nights. Bernie had surprised him one night. It had rained three days straight and there was no work. Bernie stopped by to check on him. He had seen the radio but hadn’t said anything. He had been sure that it had been Bernie who had left the bible verse, but he had never mentioned it. Bernie was religious, but in a good way, out of some soft spot in his heart, not out of judgment. The day after his visit, there was an envelope in his mail slot with four dollars. David made the decision there and then to make a gift to Bernie. He took the bus across town to a post office in Clovis where he bought a small carboard box and a book of stamps. It had probably been dangerous to carry a ten thousand dollar bundle of cash in his jacket pocket on a public bus, but precautions had to be taken. He couldn’t allow the package to be traced back to him. The money fit perfectly snug in the box. He thought about writing a note but decided against it. David would be sure to be in Bernie’s for breakfast every morning for a while. But if Bernie was ten thousand dollars richer, nobody would ever have known by any change in his demeanor. Same old Bernie. Still, it had given David a feeling, something approaching joy, when he imagined Bernie’s face opening the box.

As the days passed, David began to notice the changes. He had put on a few pounds. He had become lethargic. Although the level of physical exertion in his life had been greatly reduced, he lacked energy and late in the day had to fight to stay awake. But no matter how tired he was, peaceful sleep was illusive. He longed for one good night of sleep, just one night without the dreams. No matter how many adjustments he made in his nightly routine, the dreams would roar to life as soon as he drifted off. They weren’t nightmares, just unsettling little scenes and always in color. Anna was in most of them. David had thought it would be different after the money, thought his spirit would begin to heal. It was better. There was better food, just no healing. The note in his mail slot this night said, “ Proverbs 16:25”….”There is a way that seemeth right to a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.” David threw on his coat and headed to Bernie’s.

Canvas Bag...part four

The looming figure of Porfiry hovered in the sky like a Macy’s parade balloon looking down at Raskolnikov with knowing judgment in his eyes. There was no escape. The giant Porfiry moved overhead like a storm cloud blocking out the sun, shadowing Raskolnikovs’ every movement. His presence became leaden, suffocating. Finally he spoke…”All we like sheep, my dear Raskolnikov. All we like sheep.”

David awoke with a start, covered in sweat. His first thought was of the money. Was it still there or had it too been a dream? He jumped to his feet and dragged the heavy box from under the bed, madly digging through the titles until he glimpsed the neat rows of cash at the bottom. What time was it? He grabbed his watch from the nightstand. 5:20. Plenty of time to be on the corner in time. He got to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing easier now. Would he really work today? It would be terribly hot, maybe the hottest day of the year he had heard someone say. There was a new reality, new facts on the ground, a swift reversal of the story of his life. There was no driving hunger. There was no force compelling him to fight for his survival. He had money now. He didn’t have to go without a decent meal, no more days of bread and water. He could now direct the course of his day from the commanding heights of plenty. It felt very good. But he couldn’t go crazy, mustn’t attract too much attention. He must be careful, never stop thinking.

It occurred to David that he could now pay bus fare. There was no need to walk clear across town. He would spend the morning in Sunnyside on the other side of town where he could eat wherever he chose and maybe buy some new clothes. He sure could use a decent pair of shoes. He grabbed a couple of fresh bills and folded them tightly. It was Christmas morning.

He ate pancakes and sausage at a place called the Sunnyside Café. Delicious. He bought two pairs of work pants, a new pair of boots and wool socks from department store. Then he saw the YMCA. He took the longest, hottest shower in history. Fresh and clean, he put on his new clothes and gathered up the old ones and stuffed them in the hamper with the dirty towels. Across from the YMCA was a movie theatre playing the new Hitchcock picture. He settled in the blood red chair with his buttered popcorn and delighted in Kim Novak. She was beautiful, alluring, although her character proved to be tragically devious. Nothing was ever as it seemed with her. Scotty never had a chance. For dinner, David found a steak place called Sherman’s. His porterhouse was cooked to perfection. He was careful not to take the bus back until it had gotten dark. It had been a wonderful day and when he arrived back at the boarding house, he removed a couple of letters from his mail slot and walked up the stairs to his room. He would sleep with a full stomach, and clean clothes to wear in the morning. He switched on the light on the nightstand and glanced at the letters. One was an advertisement and the other had no address of any kind, just his name...David in all capitol letters. Inside was a single slip of yellow paper. In ornate calligraphy were the words, “Isaiah 53:6”. Puzzled, David pulled one of the boxes from under his bed and found his old bible, the one his mother had given him when he was baptized. He found Isaiah in the table of contents. “ All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”