“What is man that you are mindful of him…?”

I have always loved this photograph. It was taken in July of 2018 at Pemaquid Point Lighthouse on the Coast of Maine. It does a nice job of capturing the feel of this special place. You see the vegetation in the foreground, the great expanse of rock and the churning azure water. But what makes this particular shot so special is that man standing on the edge of the rocks on the far left. At first glance you might have missed him but without him its just another picture of The Point. With him, you realize how immense this majestic place really is, and just how small and insignificant is man.

The Psalmist asked the question of God, “What is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” Good question. When I read news stories about men who shoot their neighbors in the head for running a leaf blower, it’s tempting to answer the question with, “Man is a piece of shit.” But we are more than just the worst among us. Each and everyone of us is much more than the worst mistake we’ve ever made. We are all mixed bags of wretchedness and nobility. Still, when contemplating the size and complexity of the world along with our smallness its hard to find your place. The poets tell us that we are nothing more than a mist, a vapor, and our life nothing more than a breath. This photograph would appear to be Exhibit A in this regard.

But my faith teaches me that there is something unique about human beings that separates us from all of the universe…we were created in the image of God and each of us has a living soul. We have intrinsic value. We are not lichen or rock or tree. Much more is expected of us, much more than killing each other because we ring the doorbell of the wrong house.

When I was younger I had a hard time finding my place in the world. I struggled to find an answer to the What’s the meaning of life question. Becoming a father is what caused the universe to make sense for me. From that point forward I knew exactly what the meaning of life was, to nurture these little creatures into loving, caring, contributing adults. But in doing so I discovered other purposes for my existence. It wasn’t enough for me to care only about my own children. I needed to help others with their children because I needed their help with mine. That meant that I needed to care about their schools. I needed to pay attention to the neighborhood. I needed to start helping out with Little League and volunteering at church. I discovered that life is not and was never meant to be a spectator sport. The one thing that needed to be guarded at all cost was the dignity of each and every human life. If everyone I meet bears the image of God, I can do no less.

Some years I have been better at this than others. Occasionally I have fallen into selfishness, turned a blind eye to suffering and even injustice because I was too busy protecting what was mine. Other times I have been overcome with the scope and scale of evil in the world, and turned inward, reasoning that the pathologies running rampant in the world were too much for one person to solve. But hope is far too valuable a thing to discard. Even if we can only save one from drowning, we must leap in the water, even if that water, like the beautiful ocean off Pemaquid Point seems too much.

Life Was Easier When it Was Harder

Like most people I have a smart phone. This one has a smart calendar which displays itself towards the end of one month and the beginning of the next month. Yesterday, for example, I was informed that the month of May is LBGTQ+ month. I had no idea that was even a thing. I am up to speed on what each initial stands for but not sure what the plus sign represents, however I am 100% certain that I will be informed over the next 31 days of relentless awareness-building. But this was not the only surprising thing I learned about the month of May. I was reminded that my two kids both have birthdays in May…and they will both be squarely in their mid-30’s. How, in the name of all that is holy, did this happen?

 

It feels like only a couple of weeks ago when they were in Little League, just a few days ago we were moving them into dorm rooms, and fifteen minutes ago when they got married. Time flies when you’re living life.

Last night we brought dinner over my in-laws to celebrate my father-in-law’s 86th birthday. After dinner we sat around talking and I asked him some questions about his life. Its something I learned when we were caring for dad after Mom passed away. There is a world of wisdom swimming around inside our parent’s heads. It serves us well to mine it well while we still have the chance. Anyway, I pointed out that he had lived through almost nine decades on this Earth. I asked him which decade of his life was his favorite, and which one was the most difficult. His answers were quite instructive.

For the best decade he picked the years when he was in his late 40’s and early 50’s. He had hit his stride in his career, able to provide for his family, and his three girls were in middle and high school. His every spare moment was taken up with a series of volunteer positions at his church, which included everything from grown-up adult committee assignments, to bringing to life the unforgettable Mario Pepperoni character when he worked in the Youth department. I found it interesting that his favorite memories of life came from a time when he was the busiest.

But when I asked him about the hardest decade he said something especially wise, “I don’t really remember having a hard decade.”

Its funny. I asked my own Dad that same question late one night when he was in the hospital a year or so before he passed away and got virtually the same answer. His favorite decade turned out to be the years when he was working graveyard shifts and attending college and seminary while trying to raise four kids—in other words, the most insane and chaotic time of his life. When I asked him about the hardest decade I thought he would say when he was serving in WWII in the South Pacific in 120 degree heat, but no. I got the same words…I didn’t really have any hard decades, just different.

What about me? What about you?

The only thing I’m sure about is that life seemed easier for me when it was…harder. When you’re busy trying to make ends meet you don’t have time to sit around gazing at your navel, thinking things to death. You don’t have the luxury of introspection. You ponder less, do more. 

There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

They Didn’t Teach THIS in Pedagogy

My daughter teaches English to classrooms of seventh graders in Columbia, South Carolina. Although her job is insanely difficult, stressful and exasperating, there are moments of hilarity. The following is her account of one such moment…

Worst Blog Topic Ever?

What causes inflation? Why does the cost of a good or service increase? Although it has been an eternity since my economics class at the University of Richmond, I still remember the text book definition—“too much money chasing too few goods” In other words, when the demand for something combines with the scarcity of that same something, the price rises. When you think about this for a minute it makes perfect sense. Back in the 1970’s when OPEC had a strangle hold on the supply of oil, they could send the price of gas through the roof by simple turning off the taps, giving the OPEC states outsized power. In perhaps a less complicated version, if there is an explosion over at the Twinkee factory, Twinkee addicts buy up all the remaining Twinkees on the shelves sending their price skyward, since they have suddenly become scarce.

I know what you are all thinking…this might be the worst blog post topic in the history of The Tempest. You all may be right on that point but nevertheless I’ve been thinking about this whole inflation thing a lot lately. In a general sense, I understand how inflation can happen, it being a mechanical rather than a mercurial phenomenon. But lately, I’ve started to have my doubts.

In the aftermath of COVID with all of the quarantines and shutdowns it instigated through western economies, a huge monkey wrench got thrown in the interconnected world wide supply chain. Combining the predictable scarcity of supplies with the unprecedented fiscal stimulus from Washington brought the mother of all examples of lots and lots of money chasing fewer and fewer goods. So far, totally textbook. But, supply chain issues have long ago been remedied. Walk through any grocery store and hardware enterprise in the United States and you will find shelves overflowing with everything from soup to nuts. All the stimulus checks have come and gone, removing the excess capital in the system. And yet, Publix is still trying to sell this for $11.99…

My wife was having none of it. As a savvy consumer she knows that Publix does this all the time, trying to gouge their customers by charging a ridiculous price for a popular item. But if enough people say, “I’m sorry, I’ll pass”, then as sure as night follows day, a few days later that same item is suddenly on sale. Yesterday, Pam’s patience was rewarded when this very same box of Keurig cups cost $7.99. If you’re keeping score at home that’s a 33% discount. So when Pam bought three boxes, she saved us 12 bucks.

This brings me to the point of this blog which is, at what point is inflation no longer caused by the laws of demand and scarcity but rather the laws of avarice and greed? I am famous for having no clue what anything costs and as such am a terrible consumer. My wife, on the other hand, knows the price of nearly everything, and although she knows that Publix isn’t the cheapest grocery store in the world it is convenient, clean and well organized etc. But I can’t tell you how many times she has come in the house and said something like, I’m sorry, I’m just not going to pay X dollars for X product. Piss her off enough and she will ditch her brand loyalty quicker than a fat kid on a box of donuts. If enough of us do the same thing, watch some of these prices start to drop. If “Big Grocery” thinks they can get away with making a quick buck by gouging their customers—they won’t hesitate to do so. But what happens if all of us say, “Shame on you. You can stuff that box of K-Cups where the sun don’t shine.”

Look people, I want everyone to prosper. I don’t begrudge anyone making a buck. If prices are up because of scarcity and high demand, that’s one thing. But if scarcity isn’t an issue and demand hasn’t increased, then I am left with the conclusion that a lot (although certainly not all) of price inflation is now a result of old fashioned opportunistic greed. To the extent that we have tools at our disposal to fight back, we need to do so. If that means going with store brands, or buying in bulk at big lots stores, or even ditching your favorite store for that messy cheaper place with the weird parking lot…if enough of us fight back, prices will come down.

The Trust Deficit

Every single source that I use to obtain news of the world has been screaming about the firings of Don Lemon and Tucker Carlson. Apparently it is a big story. Millions of people tune in every night to hear them, I’m told. Everyone who is anyone in the news business has an opinion. The only thing that the two of them have in common it seems is their polarizing personalities. Many people close to me often begin sentences with the words, “Did you catch Tucker Carlson last night?” The answer is always “No”. 

Here’s the thing. Its been probably close to five years now since I have watched either Fox News or CNN or any other broadcast news program. In my office, CNBC runs in the background on the televisions hanging on the walls with the sound off. That’s the extent of my television news consumption. Why? A well deserved trust deficit. Put simply, I don’t believe any of them. More charitably, I believe that the news that gets presented to the public contains grains of truth, but by the time the story gets spun through each network’s bias-filters, the end result isn’t news at all but an editorialized version of the truth. So, how do I get my news? The answer isn’t exactly encouraging or even practical for me or anyone else, but here goes.

The news I get comes from a combination of places, none of which is totally reliable. Each source requires healthy skepticism, and even then, there are no guarantees that I’ve gotten it right. I check out stories found in the Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, BBC online, NPR and during a breaking news story, any British tabloid can be depended upon to have pictures and video from the scene a few hours before any American operation even shows up. So, that’s my system. Its not perfect but its the best I can do. Its important to add that I get zero percent of my news from the most ill-named entity in the world…social media.

There is an enormous trust deficit that plagues my interaction with this modern world. I have come to the place where I have lost trust and confidence in practically every public institution in America. This has not always been so. But events of recent years has made it difficult to overcome. Here’s what it comes down to, without trust you become adrift. I don’t trust the Republican Party because of their seeming suicide pact with Donald Trump and obsession with waging culture wars. I don’t trust that the Democrats can govern the country without appeasing the lunatic left among them who seem determined to not stop until the entire country is throwing gender reveal parties with sixteen different colors. I don’t trust government in general but mostly the governments which are furthest away from the governed, ie…I’m kinda ok with Henrico County, less so with the people in Richmond, and far less so those in Washington. The corrupting influences of money and power have proven too much for far too many of those who assume to lead us. I don’t trust large corporations to ever act in anyone’s interest other than their own. I hate the lack of accountability for the thieves in corporate suites who get rewarded for their malfeasance with tax-payer bailouts. The institutional church, large and small, has also lost my trust. The horror stories throughout the Catholic priesthood, as well as the sexual predators within the Southern Baptist Convention have made a skeptic of me. The church that Pam and I found almost seven years ago has been a towering blessing for us both, but I keep my eyes wide open even there.  

You may fairly ask, Is there anything left in this world that you do trust, anything left that you believe in? The answer is “Yes”.

I trust every dog I’ve ever had. I believe in the words of Jesus. I trust the love of God. I believe in the beauty of music. I trust a beautifully written story. I believe in the power of forgiveness and grace. I believe in my family and their love for me. I believe that being kind is better than being right. I believe that a generous life is the best kind of life. I believe that the finest thing you will ever witness on an athletic field is a perfectly executed squeeze play. I believe that my parents loved each other. There is nobody I trust more than someone who is loving and generous to the strangers among us.

But that’s about it. From everyone else…cash only.

A Road Trip Classic

I’m back from my 48 hour trip to Pawley’s Island where I discovered something rather pathetic about myself. I don’t like being away from my wife over night. I know…what a wimp, right? First of all, I have a devil of a time falling, then staying asleep without her. Its weird though. I didn’t call her while I was away. We only texted a couple times, but I felt out of sorts alone in that lovely house. I had fun playing golf with three strangers from Hickory, North Carolina. Spending a few hours on the beach in absolutely perfect weather was super nice, but after two days I was ready to come back home. I just missed my girl…both of them!

However, there was one benefit of being on a road trip without Pam. I could eat anywhere I wanted to eat. This morning, I was awakened around 5 am by a thunderstorm. When I looked at the radar I realized that if I didn’t get on the road in a hurry I would be driving all the way home in the rain. So, I threw everything in the back of the car and got on the road around 5:30. So by the time 9:00 rolled around I needed gas and I was starving. When, lo and behold, right there beside the Shell station was this American Classic:

When I was a much younger man and given to yearly golf trips to Myrtle Beach with the boys, this was our road trip breakfast joint of choice. I don’t remember ever partaking of this guilty pleasure with Pam. For starters, I know better. Frankly, she would have been appalled by this particular franchise, which might have been the greasiest I’ve ever encountered, and that’s saying something. Although WH has many benefits which I will detail shortly, it isn’t exactly what anyone would consider…clean. You’ve heard of the greasy spoon? Well, WH is the greasy spoon, knife, fork, table, floor, walls, ceiling and waitress. While this condition would be a non-starter for most women I know, guys can and do overlook it for many reasons…

Number One…the one page menu. Sure, I might have had to pick it up with a napkin, but what it lacked in cleanliness it made up for in simplicity. There are only six basic options plus a la cart items at the bottom. There’s none of this 16 page gothic novels for you to wade through like at the Silver Diner or even worse, The Cheesecake Factory. Besides, any man worth the title knows what he’s going to get before he even pulls the keys out of the ignition in the parking lot…the All-Star Special. My waitress, Yolanda, expertly barked out the crucial options.

Yolanda: You want sausage, bacon, city ham or country ham, baby?

Me: Country ham.

Yolanda: How you want them eggs cooked, darlin’ ?

Me: Over hard.

Yolanda: Plain grits, cheese grits, jalapeño grits, home fries or hash browns, baby?

Me: Hash browns

Yolanda: Want them plain, or smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, or topped?

Me: Plain

Yolanda: Praise the Lawd! That right there is a man who know what he want!

That entire exchange took no more than thirty seconds. Then Yolanda disappeared behind the famously unclean counter …

I can say with very high confidence that my table was only slightly cleaner than that charmingly lid-less trashcan. Notice the high gloss shine of the ceiling above those famous ball lights. I’m pretty sure that acoustic ceiling tiles aren’t suppose to shine, but I put all of that out of mind five minutes later when Yolanda turned up at my table with this…

Number Two. Everything you see in this photograph was freaking delicious. While you can argue that perhaps Yolanda shouldn’t have placed the butter packet on top of the waffle, and maybe she could have been more fastidious with the creamer containers and the grape jelly packet, the actual food was a masterful piece of cooking. That country ham steak might have been the most delicious I have ever tasted and was big enough for three people. This American bounty of Breakfast That Kills cost me a mere $13.00. Heck, I paid $14 for an appetizer last night at dinner!! How can there possibly be food insecurity in this country when this much artery-clogging fare can be consumed for just thirteen bucks?? When Yolanda brought me the bill I gave her a twenty dollar bill and told her to keep the change to which she replied, “Bless your heart, baby.”

No, Yolanda. Bless you!

Some Days are Better Than Others

Yesterday I drove down to Pawley’s Island to have an annual review with some clients. They live in Murrells Inlet and we hadn’t had an in person face to face review since before Covid. They happen to have a place on Pawley’s Island which they insisted that I use if I wanted to stay the night. In appreciation for their generosity I took them to dinner last night at a place called The Hot Fish Club. Pro Tip: Best. Shrimp and Grits. Ever.

So, today I wake up in this beautiful house with an entire day ahead of me with absolutely nothing on the schedule. It is 72 degrees and sunny, I have just had a marvelous cup of coffee, and golf clubs are in the back of my car. After breakfast I plan on pleading with the proprietors of Litchfield CC to accommodate a single golfer for his first full round of golf since August of 2022 in Maine. Later, I might walk on the beach for a while then do some writing. At the crack of dawn tomorrow, I’ll head home. I already miss Pam.

Some days are better than others.