A Day For Despair

 Every emotion has its day. Yesterday it was despair. I will get over it, I always do. But yesterday was a despair field day.

I watched the video, saw the gush of blood and the people fleeing in panic.

This is the second time I’ve lived through a season such as this. The first one was the mid to late 1960’s when I was just a boy. Back then the nation was divided over the Vietnam War, and the generations were at each other’s throats. The rhetoric was hot, emotions ran even hotter and in one summer three voices were silenced by assassin fire. If I had been old enough I would have despaired. Instead, I watched it all on an RCA Victor black and white television screen and asked my parents what was happening. They didn’t know. They just held me close.

This time the nation is divided over…everything. The political parties are at each other’s throats. The rhetoric is once again hot, but this time amplified by a million podcasts, social media memes and 24/7 news channels. And over the past year and a half there have been a couple assassination attempts on the President. An Arizona Democratic Party office was shot up, while a Republican Party office in New Mexico was set ablaze. A couple of Democratic lawmakers from Minnesota have been murdered. And now a conservative activist is shot dead. I’m probably missing some, politically motivated killings have become almost commonplace these days. But it’s not just political violence that’s exploded. There’s the horrifying video of that Ukrainian immigrant slashed to death for no apparent reason by a man who had been arrested on a laundry list of crimes 14 times and 14 times released again into the wild. Yes…despair is the word.

I haven’t studied crime statistics recently. Maybe it’s always been this bad, we just didn’t know it because there was no such thing as the internet. But when anyone can watch a video a man getting assassinated ten minutes after he’s shot, it magnifies the horror and elicits an immediate visceral reaction. It also numbs us. This is 2025, the average adult has seen a million violent killings play out on the screens in front of us in the shows we watch, the video games we play, the news we consume. Killing has become almost expected, an ordinary consequence of daily life in America.

Yesterday I despaired for my country. I despaired for Charlie Kirk’s wife and two children. Back last year I despaired that someone had tried to kill President Trump, even though I’ve never voted for him. I suppose I’m old fashioned enough to feel a sense of loss when anyone gets murdered.

But today is a new day. I will go about living my life. I will exorcise feelings of despair by filling my mind with thoughts of the beautiful…my grandson, God’s marvelous creation, the kindness in Lucy’s dark brown eyes, and the many good and great people I know out there doing the hard work of holding our communities together.

Thoughts From a Walk

 I’ve been doing a lot of walking since I retired. At the beginning of 2025 I set a goal to walk 750 miles during the year. I’ll probably hit the goal. Recently I’ve started a couple of 6 miles treks around Short Pump. Those walks take me around an hour and a half, sometimes less, sometimes more. Regardless of how fast or slow I walk…that’s a lot of time to be alone with your thoughts.

Along the way I see other walkers with EarPods perched in each ear. They are either listening to music, somebody’s podcast or an audiobook, but some of them pass me in the middle of a spirited conversation with someone. Its amazing how much you can learn about someone in the four of five seconds of their public exchanges with invisible friends as they race by…

“F**king hell man, I lost a thousand bucks when that c**ksu**ing Ravens kicker missed that 30 yard field goal last night!”

“I’m thinking of going no contact with my parents. I’ve had enough of their complaining.”

“Honestly, I think that Trump is the reason my cholesterol is out of control!”

The trouble with the EarPod thing with me is that I have never found any that will fit in my ear. My ear shape must be abnormal. Pam can wear them with no trouble at all, but when I try them they fall out after like three steps. So, I’m left with an hour and a half of random thoughts drifting in and out of my mind as I walk.

The majority of those thoughts center around whatever it is I happen to be writing. Lately it’s the new novel. Ideas for where the story will go next, what the characters will do or not do, that sort of thing. Sometimes I think about random memories from thirty or forty years ago that come to me out of nowhere. Other times I actually manage to think about absolutely nothing. I just look at the trees and the clouds in the sky.

But yesterday I thought about my kids. Images of them kept popping in my head from when they were both toddlers, how beautiful they both were, how hard it was when they were little, how overwhelmed I felt. Then images came from when they got married and the emotions that came with those days, how confusing it felt entering a new phase of life as their parents. I prayed that they had chosen the right person but back then I had no way of knowing for sure.

But then, as I began the long uphill stretch of North Gayton road that leads up to Pump, I thought of how blessed I have been to be their father. Although we have had our share of disagreements, neither of them have ever disrespected us, never given Pam or me reason to sit up all night worrying about them. They have never asked me for a dime since they became adults. They are hard workers who married hard workers. They have honored their parents well. Although I’m sure I have embarrassed them a thousand times over the years I can honestly say that neither of them have ever embarrassed me.

When I got back home from yesterday’s walk, my daughter sent me this picture of my grandson as a three month old…

Yeah…having kids was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Knowing Your Home Well

 I watched a short one minute video today that brought tears to my eyes. No…it had nothing to do with my grandson, it was just a random video that popped up on Instagram. If I were more tech savvy I could have posted it here on this blog, but I’ll have to rely on my writing skills to tell you about it and you can recreate the picture in your mind.

Someone is standing at the front door of his house. He opens the door and lets his beautiful Golden Retriever out the front door, then films him walking down the steps alone, away from the camera. The front yard of the house is beautifully manicured. There’s a lush lawn and a lovely curving aggregate walkway that curves around into the large driveway which leads down to the asphalt street. The Golden makes his way down the curved walkway then down the wide empty driveway all the way to where the driveway meets the street. Then the dog lowers its head and begins sniffing the ground, walking back and forth in a circular motion until he finds the morning newspaper in a clear plastic bag. He immediately picks up the newspaper in his soft mouth, lifts his head playfully and begins jogging back up the driveway, turning left at the winding walkway until he finally reaches the steps of the porch where his human is still filming this cute but quite ordinary scene.

Then the dog starts up the steps, but you notice that he is headed straight for a big potted plant on the edge of the top step. The very good dog stops, then moves slightly to the side and for the first time you see it…two empty sockets where eyes used to be. This Golden Retriever was blind. 

This gorgeous creature had lost his sight at some point of its life, but knew its home so well, so completely, he knew the way to the street and back from memory. He also had a family that didn’t consider him somehow less than because he couldn’t see, but chose to love and care for him anyway.

The video ends and I am undone.

I thought of many things. I thought of the many dogs who are abandoned and abused by human beings every day. I thought of how people with disabilities are so often marginalized by this world. And, I thought of that beautiful little grandson of mine and hope and pray that he will always know his home so well, that not only will he know his own home, but the home of his grandparents— so well that he could find his way around by memory.

So, to whoever posted that amazing video I say, thank you for loving that very good boy, and reminding the rest of us of the importance of…home.

Whirlwind Weekend

 It’s been an amazing weekend. Kaitlin and Jon left Columbia, SC Friday morning with Silas in his car seat for his first extended road trip, heading to Short Pump…normally a six hour drive. Despite having to manage his feeding and napping, the little guy was a champ. They made it here in a bit over 8 hours and he was as cheerful as he could be. Once they got him down that first evening for bed, he slept for 8 hours through the night, his longest night time sleep on record.

The purpose of this trip was to give his extended family a chance to do a meet and greet. First off would be my people on Saturday morning for brunch at Paula and Ron’s house. Thirteen of the “Dunnevant” side showed up, even my brother and his wife who drove all the way from Maryland just to meet him. Paula made a delicious brunch and Silas again was a real trooper, letting everyone have a chance at holding him and delighted us all with smiles and coos.

On Sunday after church we took him over to see his only great grandparents—Russ and Vi. Even though the “White” side of the family would be coming over for a picnic on Labor Day, we thought that the Great Grand Parents should get some special time with Silas. They loved every minute of it.

Then today, the White’s came over—nine in all—for the meet and greet. The weather was so perfect we ate outside in the back yard with a delightful breeze blowing through the trees. The wear and tear of such an ambitious weekend calendar finally impacted the little guy. He was a little fussy at times from not enough naps but still succeeded in charming everyone to pieces.

Everyone has come and gone now and tomorrow morning they will pack up and head back home to South Carolina. We miss him already and he hasn’t even left yet.

Mention should be made of Miss Lucy’s reaction to her first baby experience. She was enchanted. She sniffed him up one side and down the other. He always wanted to be in whatever room Silas was in. In the evening he would lay in front of the rocking chair in Kaitlin’s room whenever someone was trying to rock him to sleep. Then when it was time for bed, she didn’t want to leave their room. Jon had to physically assist Lucy in exciting the room. We ended up having to put a gate up to keep Lucy out of their end of the upstairs or she would have been there the entire weekend. It was so sweet watching her gentleness whenever she was around him.

Anyone reading this who already has grand children will understand what Pam and I are experiencing at this moment. We love this little boy with all of our hearts and would move heaven and earth to protect him.

What is a Concerned Citizen to do?

 So, I made a mistake this morning. Friday is the day where I open the Cafe at Hope, so I’m up a lot earlier than normal. After doing my morning chores I usually use the sunrise hour to check out the box scores, say a few prayers and drink the day’s first cup of coffee. Sometimes I take this time to write this blog. But this morning at 5:30 am I made the mistake of pulling up the famous news aggregator—The Drudge Report. For much of the last two months I have been distracted from the news by Maine and a new grandson. These happy distractions have done wonders for my attitude. But there is nothing that will destroy your happiness more than reading the news, even just a headline summary thereof. So, I have nobody to blame but myself.

Of the 50 or so headlines I read I’m thinking that somewhere between 15-20 are completely misleading, another 15-20 are flat out lies and the rest might actually be true, so maybe I have no reason to be concerned. But here’s my problem…

I have no confidence in the fidelity of the news media in this country to tell me the truth. Fox and others on the right are so in love with Trump that they are nothing more than mouthpieces for his administration. The rest of the legacy media are so far in the bag in their hatred of the man, they can’t be trusted to be fair. On top of that, Donald Trump can’t be depended on to tell the truth about—anything. So, what is a semi-concerned citizen to do?

All of my choices are flawed but they are: 1. Stop reading the news. 2. Read the news every day until my social media algorithm figures out my politics and starts feeding me stories that match my current beliefs. 3. Read the news every day and become convinced in the complete virtue of “my side” to the point where I start arguments with everyone online who disagrees with me. 4. Once a week or so skim through the news from a variety of sources and try to figure out what’s true and what isn’t, then go about living my life.

Number 1 is the easiest and most beneficial to my mental and physical health. Number 4 is where I land most of the time.

So, I’ll alternate between numbers 1 and 4. But not until the election is over with. Number 1 is the only choice when their’s an election afoot.

Playing Hurt

 Just got back from four days in Columbia. Spent most of my time hanging out with my grandson. When I wasn’t gawking at, playing with, rocking to sleep or singing to him, I was working on the new novel. I love writing, love the process, the grind, the agony of constructing the story. But as much as I love writing, it’s nowhere near as much fun as watching your grandchild look you straight in the face and burst into a smile.

In our time there we experienced several “firsts”. He had his first restaurant experience, the two hour, slow-service variety. There were nine of us, six adults and two other kids besides Silas, all seated outside—in Columbia, SC—in August. He was an angel, behaved himself better than his Pops. Then on Sunday he went to church for the first time, where his mother handed him off to a friend who worked the nursery. He slept the entire time. Then on Monday, we put him in his expensive car seat and took him all the way across town to visit his Daddy at work. Not a minutes trouble.

The only negative thing about our time with him was the realization that the unique physical demands of being a grandparent are not ideally suited for a 67 year old. It was pointed out to me by my wife that her mother became a grandmother at age 44, while my parents were also in their 40’s. One of the drawbacks of your kids waiting later to have their children is how painfully difficult it is for 67 year old men to get up off the floor after playing with a baby for twenty minutes. In addition, holding a baby in the conventional manner plays hell with the back. Regardless, none of these realities stopped me from getting on the floor to play or holding him until he fell asleep. I’ve spent an entire lifetime playing hurt, no reason to stop now.

Reunited!

 

It’s been a full 7 weeks since we’ve seen our grandson live and in person. All the time we were in Maine we received daily video updates and each time felt gratitude that we live in an age where that was possible. But it’s not the same as holding him in our arms. Two things I noticed…

When Kaitlin handed him to me I was struck by how much heavier he was, how long he was, how much fuller he looked. Newborns seem so fragile and alien. Silas is now a solid, emotive, mini-human, with fire and energy in his eyes.

Meanwhile something had changed with Kaitlin and Jon. They were no longer sleep-deprived deer-in-the headlights zombie parents. They were relaxed, in command, fully confident and in control. Back when they brought him home from the hospital they deferred to us…What do we do?? Now, we defer to them. Suddenly, they are the experts when it comes to Silas. They know every single thing about him now. All of that in 7 weeks. Last night Kaitlin asked me if I wanted to get him down for a nap. I tried without success. Kaitlin then came into the nursery and offered to help. Within five minutes the boy was sound asleep. It made me so happy.

It’s nice to know that he still loves music and the sound of my guitar.

And he is still clearly a little in love with Lolli.

These are the best of times.