Lessons From Death

I promise that I will not turn this space into an "all-bereavement, all the time" blog. First of all, you would tire of it quickly, second, if I don't snap out of it soon, my mother will visit me Jacob Marley-like and "tan my hide" as she used to warn me that she would. But a person doesn't go through this sort of death without learning a few things about life. The lessons have come fast and furiously.


1. The day after the funeral, I had to run by Mom and Dad's bank to deposit some money. I used the drive thru, since I don't bank at Suntrust myself. When the teller, a black girl in her twenties saw the checks she cheerfully inquired about how my parents were doing. When I told her that Mom had passed away, she instantly burst into tears. She then gathered two other tellers around and they all told me how sorry they all were for my loss and what a wonderful woman she was. As far as I know, Mom's only connection with these women was her once or twice a month trip to the bank. That they would be so moved at her passing floored me. Who WAS my mother?

2. The funeral home and cemetery business are about the creepiest industries imaginable. Although, they were both very helpful and performed with the highest degree of professionalism, I was floored by the cost, but even more by the level of soft salesmanship involved. The funeral home guy appealed to every vulnerable emotion raging in me with practised skill. I found myself questioning just how much I truly loved my mother if I was not willing to place her in their top of the line sealed 20 gauge steel casket, and titanium-lined crypt. At the cemetery I discovered that even in death we humans still hold on to our pride of place and status. There were different neighborhoods in the cemetery, the estate section featured lovely walking trails, and a fine gazebo. Other sections were essentially the bad parts of town...too close to the road, no lovely statues of middle eastern men or over sized open bibles to be seen. Of course, just like in life, to obtain an upscale address required a significant "investment". This bombardment, all in one bizarre, surreal day turned me into a puddle of weakness and guilt. What kind of son was I if I wasn't willing, regardless of cost, to provide my mother the very best? An ugly, brutal business, a monument to human pride and vanity.

3. As I watched the over 300 people stream through Bliley's the afternoon of the viewing, I realized that I have a lot to learn about being a friend. I like to think that I'm a good friend, but I saw people in that line who made me ask a difficult question of myself..."If their mother had passed, would you have gone to her viewing?". One thing that I noticed throughout the weekend was that the people who came through the most for us were invariably the ones who had themselves lost someone dear recently. They had spent lots of time on the road that we had just begun to walk, and it showed in their amazing sensitivity, and acts of kindness. Before, I always hesitated to go to viewings because I had no idea what to say. I now know that it doesn't matter what you say or if you say anything at all. Just seeing the face of a friend means so much, and warms your heart when all around seems so cold.

4. I have often made flippant and unflattering comments in this space about my church. I take NONE of them back. As a member for 25 years, and as a Dunnevant, I have earned the right to criticize. However, with criticism comes the responsibility of praise when  it is due. My church family was truly amazing. They showed up with hot meals, cards, phone calls. Mark Becton and Chuck Ward were everything that Godly men should be but often aren't...wise, tender-hearted, and professional. The reception put on for us after the service was a feast of mostly made from scratch dishes, by caring, hard-working people who went above and beyond the call of mere duty. The reason people shouldn't church-hop has never been made clearer than it was this past weekend...after 25 years, your church transforms itself into something more than a place of worship...it becomes a beautiful extension of your family.

Betty Dunnevant 1930-2012

I was ten years old when I discovered that my mother was crazy. We had just moved back to Virginia after three years in New Orleans. Dad had become the Pastor of Winns Baptist Church in Hanover County. It was a blazing hot Saturday around lunch time and someone was ringing the doorbell. I was half way down the steps when Mom opened the door. There stood the scariest, dirtiest man I had ever seen. Instead of slamming the door and calling 911, Mom imprudently invited the man inside. He smelled worse than he looked, a mixture of kerosene and cigarettes. As a ten year old boy I remember being afraid. Dad wasn’t home, Donnie wasn’t home, so by default I was the man of the house. I made my way down the stairs, looked out the front door and saw an old rusted-out station wagon, belching smoke out of the tailpipe with a woman and several equally dirty kids in the back seat. The man began telling his story. He and his family were on their way from New York to Florida. They were almost out of gas and totally out of money. He had seen the church next door and was hoping we could spare him some money for gas. That’s when my mother was transformed before my eyes into a cross between Billy Graham and Paula Deen.

“Why, bless your heart!” Mom smiled..”What good is money for gas going to do without something to eat? Bring your wife and kids in here right now and let me fix you some lunch!”

He protested, but Mom wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

　

　
Soon there were five exhausted, scared and hungry people sitting around our dining room table where Mom had miraculously whipped up a serving plate full of sandwiches, a bowl of potato salad and a tray of water melon. There was iced tea and peach cobbler and they all ate like they hadn’t had a meal in days. All the while Mom was telling them about the good news of the Gospel. For my Mother, the words..”Do you know Jesus Christ as your lord and savior” were not words you had to take an evangelism class to learn how to say. For Mom they were conversation starters with total strangers. After the meal, Mom encouraged them all to wash up in the bathroom while she packed the rest of the sandwiches along with some apples and oranges into a grocery bag. Then she disappeared into her bedroom and soon emerged with a wad of money. I don’t know how much or even where it had come from but I was pretty sure it was all she had. Soon there were big hugs all around and Mom leading her new friends in a prayer. We stood there in the yard waving as their smoky car disappeared down the road.

That scene would be repeated over and over again for the rest of her life. Mom viewed her life as a series of divine appointments. She believed that she was placed on this earth , as she used to say, “for such a time as this”. My Mother’s life was filled with great irony. Although possessed with profound generosity, she never had much money. She created her famous “Give-Away Fund” one year at Christmas when right at the top of her Christmas list she wrote…”Money to give away”. Thus began her career as a small town Andrew Carnegie. She would patiently collect contributions, often from anonymous sources ,then sit back and wait for a glorious opportunity… to give it all away. You know…money laundering. When she passed away Friday morning, there was nothing left in the account.

Another major irony of Mom’s life was that despite the fact that she had only a high school education, there never existed a better Bible teacher than my mother. Every Sunday School class she was ever given to teach immediately became the biggest class in the church. Many of those classes may have started out as women’s classes, but before long they were couple’s classes, and bigger rooms were needed. For ten years I was lucky enough to teach a Sunday School class of my own…high school boys. Many times while preparing my lessons I would call Mom to ask a question…”Mom, I can’t find the verse about when King David wanted to pay for the threshing floor but the guy didn’t want to take his money… where IS that?” Without a moments hesitation, and with that special lilt she would get in her voice when quoting scripture, Mom would blurt out..” I will not take for the Lord what is yours, or sacrifice a burnt offering that costs me nothing…1 Chronicles 21: 24. I would always marvel…how does she DO that?! Before the internet and before BibleGateway.com…my mother was my concordance.

The final irony of Mom’s life was that she never got to travel the world. When she was a little girl her favorite song was..”Those Faraway Places With Strange sounding names” Unfortunately, during her active years she lacked the money to travel, ( perhaps because she was always giving it away!!) and during her retirement years, she lacked the health. Instead she read mountains of books about the world. She poured over every book she could get her hands on about Africa, India, South America, and China. The reason we have asked that in lieu of flowers today, gifts be made to the International Mission Board, is because since she never got a chance to go, Mom was committed to doing whatever she could to make it possible for others to go. The quickest route to a robust Sunday dinner argument in my house growing up was to say anything negative about the Cooperative Program. Sometimes I would needle her just to get her going. “Mom, the Cooperative Program is over-rated!” Then I’d just sit back and watch the show!! Mom had zero tolerance for anything that diverted funding from missions, even , and especially television ministries. I mention this to honor my Mom’s conviction that every worship service should make us uncomfortable at least once. Once, when I was a kid, I asked her why Dad said such hard things from the pulpit. She answered that it was every Christian’s job to comfort the afflicted,…and afflict the comfortable.

My Mother was never shy about offering anyone who would listen her rather strong opinions on a variety of topics. Theology, politics, the proper type of church music…and the appropriate decimal level for it’s performance. In this and many other ways, Mom was a woman born before her time. With her cooking skills she could have been Paula Deen, with her preaching skills she could have been Billy Graham. Even though the stage upon which she performed was smaller…my Mother was Lottie Moon without China, she was Amelia Earhart without the wings. But today, she is with her savior. All her pain is gone, there are no more tears, and she finally has wings like eagles. To those of us who remain, her legacy lifts us and our memories of her great life are more than enough to sustain us until we meet again.

A Rough Three Days

My mother died in her sleep Friday morning. For the past 72 hours, life has been a fevered rush of emotions, a rapid series of quick decisions, and family togetherness. Today it culminates in a funeral service. There will be music, memories, tears, and a eulogy that I have written and rewritten a hundred times over the past few days. I worry that I won't be able to get through it. But even more, I worry about my Dad and how he will cope with the loss of someone who had been his best friend for nearly 65 years. I haven't dreaded anything as much as I have dreaded this day in a long time. What gives me comfort is the incredible outpouring of love and support my family has received from hundreds of friends. The phone calls, visits, facebook posts, and food that has been showered upon us has been like cool water to a man stranded in a desert. Once the dust has settled I will share some of the stories on this blog. For now, I hope you all know how much your love, care, and friendship have meant to us.

Brother, can you spare 17 million?

Saw a screaming headline on Drudge yesterday about how the Democratic party was "out of money" and therefore were going to have to cancel their big convention kickoff extravaganza at the Charlotte Motor Speedway. After reading the actual article I discovered that Drudge had once again told only half the story. The party isn't "out of money", rather, they had only been able to raise 10 million of the 27 million needed for the extravaganza. As a result, they had decided to move the big event to a smaller, less expensive venue. Two thoughts leap to my mind.


Thought number 1.

 What in God's name are the Democrats doing staging anything at a Nascar speedway? I mean, most Democrats I know wouldn't be caught dead at a racetrack. Can you imagine Nancy Pelosi sipping from a can of Pabst on pit road? Harry Reid grilling up some dogs wearing a John Deere hat? Barney Frank screaming.."Gentlemen, Start My Engines!!!" while waving the Confederate flag? I mean, come on Democrats! This is just not who you are. Nobody in America is buying you guys as Joe Sixpack. Be true to your roots, for heavens sake. If you want to have a huge kickoff event, have it someplace more consistent with your core values. Have the world's biggest wine tasting party at a museum of modern art, or rent out a soccer stadium, a sport more in touch with your globalist sensitivities. But, Nascar? That's like the Republicans having their convention in a Union hall!


Thought Number 2.

Let me get this straight. The event will cost 27 million. The party has only raised 10 million. So...what's the problem? You guys are Democrats. What's a little 17 million dollar deficit to you guys? Sounds to me like this would be a great object lesson to demonstrate to the American people the importance of investing in tomorrow. Go out and borrow the money. You're a major political party with over 150 years of history. You mean to tell me that you're going to let a temporary lack of liquidity stop you from throwing a party for your members? What kind of message does that send to the faithful? "Our ability to do fun stuff is limited by a lack of money?" That's a dangerous and conflicted message for a party who on the national level is constantly making the case for stimulus spending despite huge deficits. Whats the problem with a mere 17 million dollar deficit if a 1.5 trillion dollar deficit is acceptable in Washington?

Seven Hours Without Power...One Couple's Experience

Yesterday a storm raced through the west end knocking our power out at 3:30 in the afternoon. Luckily, a cool breeze followed the storm so although we had no lights, at least it wasn't hot. We opened the windows, set out some candles, and tried to channel our inner Little-House-On-The-Prairie, frontier couple identity. In the gathering darkness, we went out on the deck to enjoy the delightful breeze.

Pam: Isn't this nice? I could use a cup of coffee. Do you want me to make you some? ...No, wait, haha,...no power.

Doug: Look at all the leaves and sticks on this deck! Let me run the blower over this for a second so we can,..er.. no wait..no power.

Pam: No worries. Luckily, my i-Pad has plenty of battery life. Wanna play Words with Friends?

Doug: Sure. It's the simple pleasures in life that really count..

Pam: WHOA!! A big tree fell over at Hope's and came within 3 inches of her Miata!! Destroyed the fence but the car's fine.

Doug: Thank God Facebook is still up.


By the time it was time for bed, the cell phones were all barely hanging on to the last gasps of battery life, the candles were all spent, and the flashlight beams were beginning to turn dangerously yellow. As we laid in bed in the pitch blackness if we really concentrated we could make out the charming sound of crickets...over the dull hum of generators. Just like the pioneer days. Then suddenly all hell broke loose. Lights flickered. Televisions blared. The air conditioning unit out side our window roared back to life. The little sleep machine on my nightstand spit out it's fake wave sound. The clock radio flashed 3:24 in bright green flashes. And, I'm sure all of the Indians who were at that very moment sneaking across the front yard preparing for their attack, scurried away into the woods, my homestead saved by the return of electricity. 7 hours without power in 2012 and we survived. Somebody ought to make a T-shirt!

A Modest Proposal....

My understanding of the concept of Affirmative Action is as follows: Whereas minorities have suffered discrimination for generations in America, government should aggressively seek to balance the scales for today's minorities by giving them advantages and preferences in areas such as education, employment etc. In this way, the years of disadvantage they have suffered will eventually be ameliorated. At some point in the future, the scales having been balanced, the need for Affirmative Action will have passed, at which point employers and admissions officers can go back to offering positions to the best, most qualified applicant, be they male, female, or transgendered, black, white, or transcolored.

Well, as a sports fan, I would like to suggest that there are endless injustices in the world of sports that could use a liberal application of Affirmative Action. For your consideration, I propose the following suggestions.


1. NASCAR....Poor Danika Patrick can't make it through a single race without getting put into the wall by some good old boy who can't handle getting beat by a girl! It's clearly not enough that Danika is allowed to compete with these neanderthals. Something needs to be done to help her overcome the overwhelmingly misogynistic headwinds that she faces. Affirmative Action remedy: Give her a two lap head start.

2. NFL....To even the casual fan, the almost total lack of white players at the skilled positions in professional football is appalling.When the offense trots out on the field in practically every NFL stadium on Sundays, its always the same story. The two wideouts are black, the running backs are black and now increasingly, the quarterback is black. Oh sure, there are white guys on the field, but inevitably they show up on the offensive line, or at defensive tackle, or even worse, as a punter or field goal kicker. I've heard all the explanations about athleticism, but must everything be about speed, jumping ability, and reflexes? Affirmative Action remedy: Limit each team to only one black corner back and one black outside linebacker, thereby opening up opportunities for slower white running backs and wide receivers.

3. THE CHICAGO CUBS....It's been 104 years now since this woe-begotten franchise has won a World Series, and with all due respect to Theo Epstein, nothing is going to change until an Affirmative Action remedy can be found: Grant the Cubs an extra out per inning at all home games.

4. NBA...There exists nowhere on earth a more glaring example of height discrimination than at an NBA game. The size of these guys is literally through the roof. Used to be that your center might be 6'8", but now even point guards are giants. Don't even get me started on these 7 foot freaks that roam the lanes every night. Height ism is out of control in basketball, making it nearly impossible for that scrappy 5'6" kid with a dream to have a chance. Affirmative Action remedy: Impose a height-cap which would work just like the salary-cap. Team rosters would be limited to gross inches, not to exceed for a 12 man roster say, 900 inches. This would allow teams to keep certain over sized players but would open up roster spots for legions of short guys needed to get the team under the height-cap.


This is just a start. There are many other injustices throughout the world of sports that cry out for government scale balancing, the near monopoly that Korean women have on the LPGA tour, the practically complete non-existence of Jewish football stars in the SEC, just to name a couple. But the world's longest journey begins with a single step. A little social engineering with the use of Affirmative Action can go a long way to righting these outrageous wrongs.

2012 Book Reviews

It's been quite awhile since I did a book review blog. So long in fact that there's 12 of them to review. That could make for a long and boring post. So, I've decided to review these books using the Twittered-up, text-messaged. truncated writing style that has come to dominate modern communication. This might be fun!


38.  Calico Joe...John Grisham

Don't like Grisham.  Only bought book because it had a baseball on the cover. About a middle aged guy who's father is dying and who was a horrible father. Another whining, woe is me, look how terrible my baby-boomer upbringing was sort of book. But at only 125 pages, not a total waste of time.

39. Starting and Closing....John Smoltz

Smoltz was one of my fav baseball players because of his incredible toughness. But reading him telling me how tough he was, lowered my view of him. I can marvel about how clutch Derek Jeter is but if Derek Jeter held a news conference and said.."Man, I'm probably the most clutch baseball player ever"...well, you get the picture.

40. Shadow Street.....Dean Koontz

My first disappointing Koontz book. Just too danged weird,  creepy and pointless. The characters were unlikable, usually a Koontz strength, and the whole time-travel, haunted house, end of the world stew he was cooking up here just bored me.

41. In The Garden Of Beasts....Erik Larson

Real life story of the U.S. ambassador to Germany during Hitler's ascension to power in the thirties and his family as they tried to live their lives in Berlin during those hell years. Very interesting read, although the author tries too hard to describe the ambassador's daughter as something other than what she actually was...a high class slut with a weakness for young Nazi officers.

42.American Sniper....Chris Kyle

The story of the Navy Seal with the most confirmed kills of any such warrior in U.S. military history. This dude managed to kill 160 enemy combatants and quite a few more innocent bystanders with a single shot snipers rifle, a logical progression from his days as a boy hunting pheasant and deer growing up in (you guessed it) Texas. Amazing stories and fascinating reading, but not sure I want this guy anywhere near the steak knives at my next cook-out. Kinda creepy...

43.December 1941....Craig Shirley

Book for history nerds only. It's essentially an examination of what daily life was like as reflected in the newspapers from around the country each day of December leading up to and just after the attack on Pearl Harbor. As a nation we were so wrong about practically everything concerning our understanding of the Japanese threat.

44. The Tyranny Of Cliches....Jonah Goldberg

A well written critique of phrases that are thrown out by mostly liberals and accepted as truth and meant to stop inquiry in it's tracks..phrases like.."Would rather 10 guilty men go free than one man be wrongfully convicted"...easy to say unless those ten guilty men were set free and moved in down the street. Fun book, but preaching to the converted. Won't change any one's mind.

45. They Eat Puppies, Don't They?.....Christopher Buckley

Hilarious story. Just the latest in a long line of hilarious stories written by this guy. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree here. Buckley is simply the best humor-novelist in America. This is right up there with Boomsday, Supreme Courtship and Thank You For Smoking.

46.Homer & Langley....E.L. Doctorow

Beautifully written novel about two brothers who live in a huge house in Manhattan and spend their lives increasingly isolated in it as it crumbles around them through years of neglect. One of the brothers is brilliant but unstable, the other(the narrator) is blind and by the end deaf. The story spans America from WWI through the hippies. Well done but ultimately depressing.

47. The Big Miss.....Hank Haney

When Tiger Woods hired Hank Haney to be his swing coach it made Haney's career. Hank even ended up with his own reality show(the final arbiter of success in America). So how does he repay Tiger?  By writing a tell-all book describing what a rotten human-being he really and truly is. But that's something all of us already knew. What a really learned in this book is what an insufferable ingrate Haney is.

48. D-Day............Stephen Ambrose

A re-read of a book I first discovered ages ago. It holds up well. Detail, detail, detail. reading this makes you wonder how in God's name we actually pulled it off. A miracle.

49. A Blaze Of Glory.....Jeff Shaara

The first book in a new trilogy from Shaara, this one about the western theatre of the civil war. This book is about the battle of Shiloh and is as engrossing as all of his other "you are there historical fiction. Can't wait for the next two.