31 Years of Parenthood

Thirty-one years ago today, I became a parent for the first time when my daughter, Kaitlin Elizabeth Dunnevant was born. Like all first time parents, I was woefully unprepared for the job, having not been endowed by nature with any of the requisite skills required for successful parenting. I was neither patient, long suffering, or particularly handy with diapers, having changed exactly zero of them ever in my life. I brought no remarkable wisdom to the parenting table, no natural inborn love of children. In fact, it would have been more accurate to say that I didn’t much care for other people’s babies. They were smelly, demanding, and the interminable crying drove me nuts. But, despite being as ill-equipped as humanly possible for such a responsibility...there she was.

Fortunately for us, she was a dream baby. She hardly ever cried, and never for no good reason. Within a couple of weeks she was sleeping five or six hours straight...at night, like human beings are supposed to. Pam and I couldn’t help stumbling onto the vain idea that we were, in fact, great parents, a conceit that would crash to the ground in tatters when our son was born two years later, introducing us to that most crucial virtue...humility. It turned out that it wasn’t so much that we had been great parents with Kaitlin, but rather, that she was a great baby. And so, the pattern of her life was laid out early...my daughter is simply...a great person.

This morning, I woke up thinking about her. It’s weird how that happens sometimes...you wake up with one of your kids on your mind. So, I found myself shuffling through a thousand pictures I have of the two of us through the years. Since it’s her birthday, here are a few of my favorites...

One of her favorite traditions, the annual carving of the pumpkins. Patrick always asked for a scary face, Kaitlin always, always wanted a happy, smiling face. 

College dorm room after a day of slave labor, Kaitlin secure in the knowledge that she had me wrapped around her little finger.

Somewhere in Maine, our forever happy-place.

Michie Tavern for lunch...

Myrtle Beach, where she proved her love for me by not being ashamed to be seen in public with me wearing that shirt.

So, as my little girl celebrates her birthday today, I celebrate her, and thank God for bringing her into my life.

Fashion and Faith...sigh

So, apparently there was a Met Gala last night in New York City which featured a Christian/Catholic theme. All of the beautiful people were there trying to out-do each other on the weirdly camouflage carpet. As a Christian, I am supposed to be appalled and distraught by this blasphemous display. The event has provided me with a huge opportunity to have my feelings hurt. The above photograph, I am assured was the most offensive of the lot, featuring Rihanna dressed like some sort of Pope/Prostitute. The whataboutism brigades were out in force this morning wailing about how when some teenager in Utah dares attend a prom in a traditional Chinese dress, charges of cultural appropiation fly around all over the place, but a bunch of Hollywood liberals can denigrate Christian traditions with impunity. The more sarcastic Tweets observed that they will eagerly await next year’s Islam-themed gala where the likes of Kim Khardasian and Rihanna will come dressed in provocative skin tight burkas, images of the Prophet plastered onto their ample bosoms.

What to think of all this?

Well, for starters, most of the loudest critics of this event were Catholics, and I am not a Catholic so I can’t speak for them. Maybe if I were all of this would feel more offensive. I’m told that the local Cardinal in New York actually provided Rihanna with her head gear, and that the theme of the event had something to do with a collection of Catholic art and artifacts at one of the Met’s sister museums. Be that as it may, it should come as no surprise to anyone who hasn’t been held captive in a cave for the last fifty years that given the opportunity, Hollywood celebrities will always make fools of themselves where fashion is involved. Throw religion into the mix and you’ve got a recipe for..well, for...this...

To which I say...who cares?

Here’s the thing people, I’m exhausted. Enjoy a couple of tacos anymore and you get accused of culturally appropriating Mexicans. You can’t swing a dead cat without either offending someone or being offended by something. I just can’t keep up with it all anymore. I suppose I should look at a photograph of some starlet in a low cut gown festooned with a crucifix and feel spiritually violated, but I just can’t summon up anything approaching indignation. You know why? Because I really don’t care. These people don’t offend me. Why should they? Why should I expect people outside of my faith to be sensitive to my tender feelings? How they choose to dress is their business. There are far more calamitous things going on in this world for Christians to be concerned with than some silly fashion gala in New York City. Sure, the Christian faith is a much more inviting target than Islam would be, but the reason for that is a compliment to my faith since the concepts of freedom of expression and tolerance found the tender soil required to survive and grow in the soil of the Judeo Christian ethic in the first place. So, of course Christian traditions come in for more mockery than Islamic ones in the West...people who regularly mock Muslim traditions in Muslim countries mostly wind up dead.

So, save yourselves the aggravation and stop letting everything hurt your feelings. Just smile and move on. Save your passion and energy for something that really matters. The world has enough snowflakes.

A Question For All of You...

Here’s a question to ponder. If money were no object, and you could travel anywhere in the world to celebrate, say...a 35th wedding anniversary, and you could allot two weeks for such an adventure, where would you go?

This is the question which has been bouncing around in the fever swamps of my addled brain for the past few weeks. The anniversary in question isn’t until 2019, and our plate is currently full with wedding machinations. Still, it’s never too early to begin planning such a momentous occasion, since half the fun is in the dreaming. In order to have a memorable trip, one first has to be able to imagine it.

So, if you could go anywhere for two weeks with the love of your life...where? 

First of all, it has to be a place that would be enchanting to both of us. Sure, a two week jaunt to the Baseball Hall of Fame would be amazing, especially if we could spend a couple of days touring the beef jerky outlets while we were there. But, something tells me that Pam would be underwhelmed. No, it has to be somewhere neither of us has ever been or wouldn’t ordinarily go. That eliminates the following otherwise excellent choices:

The Cayman Islands

Hawaii

The Virgin Islands

England

Switzerland 

Mexico

Bahamas 

Puerto Rico

Jamaica 

Maine

California 

Key West

It needs to be somewhere exotic, or full of historical significance. It also needs to have amazing food. Popular use of the English language would be nice but is not a requirement. Air conditioning is a non-negotiable if I expect my wife to agree to come along.

Ok then...the question has been put to you. Please respond with your thoughtful suggestions.

On Becoming Presbyterian...

Quite the eventful weekend. Spent some time with both my kids. Had a successful suit shopping experience. Became a Presbyterian.

But first...an observation. If the Babylon Bee didn’t already exist, I would have to create it. These guys have performed a crucial public service for me these past couple of years as they adroitly and hilariously rip to shreds the blatant hypocrisy and double standards of modern Christianity for me so I don’t have to...so much. Yes, I am quite often jealous of them, sometimes disturbingly so, and I am always envious of their wit, but a few second tier sins seem a small price to pay for such an uproarious good time. Consider the following headlines, a short list of my personal favorites...

Joel Osteen Googles “What is a Trinity?”

Treasure in Heaven Revealed To Be Bitcoin

Holy Spirit Empowers Man To Make It Through Christian Movie

Calvinist Dog Corrects Owner: “No One Is A Good Boy”

Nation’s Evangelicals Warn They’ll Only Give Trump 1 or 2 Hundred More Mulligans

Evil Christians Oppress Secular New Yorkers With Delicious Chicken Sandwiches 

Hershey’s Replaces “Kisses” With More Pure “Sidehugs” For Christian Market

Elevation Church Debuts Water Slide Baptismal

So, on their second anniversary as a thing..kudos!!

Yeah, so the kids made it here safe and sound for the weekend. The wedding shower was a smashing success, by all accounts, and lots of those disgusting tea party sandwiches were consumed. Everyone in attendance raved about how yummy the cucumber and dill things were, along with all the crudités and Earl Grey...when what they all secretly wanted were bacon cheese burgers and milkshakes.

But, the real victory of The Weekend was the successful purchase of the mystical perfect blue suit for Patrick and his groomsmen. Up until this point, the exact color that Patrick was looking for seemed unattainable on planet Earth. If the color was spotted somewhere, invariably the cut of the suit was all wrong...not slim enough; or if it was the right cut, the price tag was out of the question. When we walked out of Express For Men after a mere two hours in possession of four perfectly blue, sufficiently slim wedding suits, it felt like winning the lottery.

Once all the kids had left for their homes in South Carolina and Tennessee late Sunday afternoon, it was time for Pam and me to head over to Hope for their 5:00 service where we, along with twenty or so others, were presented as new members. Ironically, on the same day that our old church celebrated their 150th year of existence, we ended our combined 96 years of being...Baptists. Although our new church doesn’t make a big deal of the fact that they are, in fact, Presbyterian, the fact that they are is still...a thing, I suppose. A lot of people have asked me if I have noticed any theological differences between Baptists and Presbyterians, and I always answer vaguely. That’s because, aside from the infant baptism thing, there don’t seem to be very many differences. What is different is the points of emphasis, and the style of preaching...and the fact that this particular Presbyterian Church has a ton of money and isn’t afraid to spend it. But, nobody can accuse them of building gigantic, vain cathedrals. Their building looks like it was designed for an upscale office park for startups. It could easily house a distribution center for sustainable dog toys, or perhaps a micro brewery. But, there are differences though. I hear things from this pulpit which I would never hear from a Baptist one...I’m putting myself through Divinity school by tending bar...But, Pam and I are so very grateful to have found this amazing fellowship of believers. At this time in our lives it has been something close to a miracle. Every Sunday we wake up thinking...We get to go to church today!!...a wonderful thing.

Changing Roles

My kids come home today. Both of them. One from Nashville with his fiancée, and the other from Columbia without her husband, who has to work. They will all sleep under my roof this weekend. It is a glorious thing.

The occasion for their visit is a wedding shower, thrown by my sisters, for Sarah. On June the 30th, she will marry my son in a ceremony in Nashville. The logistics involved in this affair have caused considerable angst in my household. It’s no easy task coordinating an event from 600 miles away. If it wasn’t for the internet, it would be impossible. With the internet, it’s often a frustrating exercise. But, the future bride and groom have been diligent and persistent, and things are falling into place. Now, this weekend, something fun.

My feelings about all of this have been a mixed bag. Although I am thrilled by my son’s choice of a wife, and delighted at the prospect of gaining a daughter, there has been an odd and surprising melancholy associated with it all. It’s the sense that with this marriage, my days as a true parent are over. Sure, I know that I will always be their father, but once your kids get married, the dynamic changes and along with it, my roll in their lives. Once the vows are exchanged down in Nashville, I will feel as though Pam and I have finished something. We spent nearly 30 years obsessed with the care and feeding of these two incredible people, in the hope that they would grow into fully mature human beings, ready to make their mark on the world and hopefully, leave it better than they found it. And now, it’s done. What do we do now?

Maybe, like a great athlete, who after his playing days are over takes a job in the front office, we will now become something like...life consultants. At some point down the road we will become grand parents, a clearly defined roll, and all will be well! Or maybe I am making too big a deal about this roll-changing business. Maybe it’s all in my head. Any Dads out there reading this who have already gone through these waters, feel free to share with me your wisdom.

So, today will be a nerve wracking ordeal, like it is every time my kids are on the road. I will fret and fuss all day until they roll up in front of the house. Tomorrow, while Sarah is being celebrated by all the Dunnevant/ Schwartz women, I will be taking Patrick and two of his groomsmen shopping for suits, then to Hardywood for a pint or two, father of the groom duties that I hope not to screw up.

Let the fun begin!

RVA Makes Yet Another List

This is a fascinating bit of research put out by the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America, whereby cities throughout America are ranked by how horrible the pollen gets in the Spring. A perfect score is 100. I am proud to report that my hometown...Richmond, Virginia is on this list, finishing a respectable 16th in this year’s ranking, with a score of 68.52. That means there are 15 other cities with worse pollen than us. Actually, there is some good news here...we don’t suck quite as bad as we did back in 2016, when we came in 14th.

The timing of this chart’s release could not have been more fortuitous, since the last couple of days has brought us the annual oak tree pollen string plague. In less than 36 hours time, a river of the stuff has fallen in my yard. Lucky for me, I have been fortifying my system with a daily dose of both Flonase and Claritin since the first day of February. This expensive cocktail has worked like a charm for the past two years, and I highly recommend it.

Getting back to this chart...upon closer inspection there are a couple of strange anomalies. Check out Wichita, Kansas. What the heck happened to Wichita? You guys dropped from number 6 in 2016 all the way to 22rd this year? That’s embarrassing underperformance right there. You guys need to tighten up or before you know what happened you’ll be off this list! And, how about Miami, Florida?? You guys were 75th a couple years ago and now suddenly you land in the top 30? Sounds like to me you guys are importing more than Cubans down there. 

I also can’t help but notice the preponderance of Southern cities on this list. Sure, there are a few from up north, but the top twenty is dominated by cities from the old Confederacy, with Tennessee alone placing four cities on the list. Perhaps, the ongoing judgement of God for slavery? On the other hand, New York has three cities on the list. Perhaps the ongoing judgement of God for rude arrogance? Who knows? But, one thing I do know...if you suffer from allergies, go West, young man, go West!

We Are All Snowflakes

One of my least favorite political traditions has always been the annual White House Correspondent’s Dinner. In the old days, it would be Bob Hope cracking wise about what a bad golfer Dwight Eisenhower was, or Buddy Hacket making fun of some cabinet secretary’s comb-over. More recently, of course, it’s become more raunchy, but so has everything else in the world. The reason I’ve never liked it is because, I’ve always felt there was something inappropriate, and mildly incestuous about the press and politicians getting all glamoured up in the same room...even for just one night. I prefer antagonism and tension between the two, permanent and unrelenting...but that’s just me. A few years back when suddenly Hollywood stars started showing up, the thing really jumped the shark. 

So, the most recent iteration of this event featured a comedian I had never heard of, and no President. The next morning everyone online was talking about her act, so I found it on YouTube. Here’s my take...

Her jokes could be categorized as follows:

Some were pretty funny.

Some were mean.

Some were profoundly unfunny.

Some were raunchy.

There was lots of talk of pu**y and orgasms, with the obligatory edgy F-bomb. Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine this type of language coming out of Bob Hope’s mouth, but I guess times change. 

What amazes me about all of this is the reaction of Trump supporters. They were shocked and infuriated by it all, particularly one of her unfunny lines about Press Secretary, Sarah Huckabee’s eye-makeup. Apparently, this comedian had crossed some kind of civility line by attacking a woman’s appearance. In addition, there was great wailing, weeping and gnashing of teeth about the level of language employed, having dropped into the gutter. Ok...time out.

I’m thinking that if Trump is your guy, you probably should sit this one out. The current occupant of the White House has made a living mocking the appearance of women, the language he has employed both as a candidate and so far as President has been unprecedentedly raunchy. For his supporters now to get the vapors when a comedian attempts to out-Trump Trump, is frankly hilarious. No, if you made excuses for him when he made fun of a disabled reporter, if you tolerated his putdowns of Megyn Kelly and Mika Brzezinski with those famous blood jokes, your pie-hole should remain closed at this point. As the judges like to say...You have no standing.

As someone who is not a liberal Democrat, I understand why so many loathe the press in this country. You could throw a net over a random 100 people anywhere in this country, even the bluest of blue states, and not find 95% support for liberal Democrats. It’s just a statistical impossibility...except for the ballroom at the White House Correspondent’s Dinner. So, it stands to reason that a crowd of Democrats would take great delight in ripping in to any Republican President. But...so what? It’s their gig. However, for this particular Republican President, and his supporters, to decry the lack of civility is the ultimate example of hutzpah. While, this particular comedian was raunchier and meaner than most, and even many Democrats objected to her performance, Trump people should let others do the complaining. 

It’s official...we are all now... snowflakes.