An Appropriate Level of Danger

If I could do anything I wanted right now it would be this...I would spend a week by myself in a secluded cabin somewhere in the mountains doing nothing but reading, writing, fishing, and thinking. There would be no TV, no cell phones and atleast once during the week I would intentionally put myself in harm's way just for the sake of doing something dangerous. Maybe I would hike somewhere at night and get lost and have to make it through the night without freezing to death. Or maybe I would attempt to climb some rocky cliff that I had no business climbing, something, anything to make me feel alive.

There's something crushing about a normal life. It's as if after a while some sort of mold starts to form on the edges of the safety-net we work so hard to build under our lives. We live in safe houses and drive ever safer cars. We have back-up plans for everything..nothing catches us off guard. Every detail of our lives gets planned to death to the point where devine visitations have disappeared.

Sometimes when I have time to think I become fascinated with the idea that the reason Western Man is so neurotic is because he enjoys too much comfort, that Man is not meant for comfort, that facing and overcoming danger is the energy that powers the human spirit. Perhaps we feel so ordinary because modern life requires no heroics. Some would say, "Doug, you're crazy! Competing and winning in business today is VERY heroic. Look at you...you have a nice home, a successful business, great car..all the comforts of life..and you started with nothing!" True. And yet none of the agonies and ecstasies of success in business can compare to the strangely magnificent mortal fear that gripped me as I was being prepped for open-heart surgery 8 years ago next month. Nothing before or since has made me feel as alive as the nearness and possibility of death.

I have a wonderful life with much to live for...so I have no death wish. All thats missing is an appropriate level of danger..and maybe a week alone in the mountains with my thoughts.

A Good Idea

Every once in awhile even a blind dog digs up the random bone. Such was the case this past weekend with my brilliant idea of taking Pam to the Martha Washington Hotel for Valentine's Day. Although the drive was long(a little over 4 hours)the hotel was beautiful and the town of Abingdon was enchanted. We took a long walk down Main street and saw scores of old homes and buildings built as far back as the late 1700's. After the walk we decided to go down to the salt water indoor pool and relax in the very warm water. Once there we noticed that there was a fabulous hot tub outside on the patio under two huge live oak trees. The 50 foot walk from the poolhouse across the cold tile patio in 25 mph winds on a cool February afternoon was half the fun and made the hot fresh water even more soothing.

Dinner was one of those 4 course affairs that usually drive me nuts because it takes forever to finish. But this one was incredible. The food was all delicious and served at a perfect pace. It was one of the best meals we've had in quite a while.

Then the best part of the night was ahead. The play at the Barter Theatre was worth the trip by itself. The actors were all multitalented singer/actors and the story that the play told was very moving. The theatre was very small so we were right on top of the stage and this particular play was perfect for such a small venue. Terrific acting, a fine story, and beautifully performed and arranged music. We couldn't have asked for much else.

Great 36 hour trip...one of my better ideas.

I have hit the winter wall. Its been cold and dark for too long now and I want it to end. Something tells me that we have atleast one more cold snap/snow storm left to endure. But today I insist on pretending that spring is right around the corner. To that end I will venture into my neglected yard and gather up all the sticks and dead leaves along with two months of dog poop( in various stages of decay ), place all the winter litter in huge garbage bags, and then get the rest of the leaves up with the lawn mower. Maybe when God looks down and sees me so engaged he will smile and relent. If not I will feel better about the situation having done some yard work.

This morning I take my daughter out for a Valentines Day brunch. Every V-Day since she was 3 the two of us have had breakfast together...even the four years when she was 8 hours away at school. Well now she's back home and dating a nice boy who has other plans. So do I actually. I'm taking my wife away for two days to a beautiful old Inn in Abingdon where we will be pampered in a 19th century sort of way with a fabulous dinner and a play called Civil War Voices. It promises to be great fun...but my streak of 21 V-Day breakfasts with my daughter will come to an end. Life is so full of odd sadness.

Sunday Follies

Today at my church there will be a speaker from something called the "Israel in Promise and Prophecy" conference which has been going on all weekend. The guy's name is Ed Hindson I think and he's from Liberty University. In fairness, I know virtually nothing about him other than he owns the world's worst toupee. I intend to keep an open mind throughout his talk this morning and may actually enjoy it. However, my guard is always up when it comes to "end time" prophecy. There's the whiff of the charlatan about these guys.

A few weeks ago we had a dispensationalist speaker in to extol the inexhaustible virtue of Israel and to warn us that we risk the wrath of God on our heads if we don't support her. So, it seems that my church has become all about the Jews in 2011.OK. Aside from the fact that he never made a distinction between the Jewish PEOPLE and the state of ISRAEL... he didn't address the difficulties that this undying support for Israel imposes on our missionary work abroad. When America and American missionaries are so closely associated with support of the Israeli state...well, lets just say that its not exactly a conversation starter down at the rug store in Cairo these days.

I have prepared a "disclaimer" lesson for my college class today just in case this Hindson guy gets too carried away, although it makes me very uncomfortable to officially disagree with the pulpit in my class. Thats why I seldom do and when I do disagree with something the Pastor says I usually keep my mouth shut. Its not my roll as a teacher to play point-counter-point with the preacher. but my patience with this Israel stuff is wearing thin.

Today is the 100th anniversary of the birth of Renaldos-Magnus..Ronald Wilson Reagan. I loved that man and still do. While he was President the left hated his guts and reviled him unmercilessly. Now even liberals are singing his praises. May he rest in peace.

What Makes a Good Citizen?

Did I watch the State of the Union this week? No. What, you may ask, was so important that caused me to miss it? Well, for one thing, my cuticles were a mess and how many times can you simply ignore the health of your fingernails before paying the price? No...actually I was reading a biography of Patrick Henry who, as it turns out, would have been appalled at the spectacle of a President of the United States being treated like a rock star.

I must confess that I haven't watched a SOTU speech since Bill Clinton declared that the era of big government was over. Does that make me a bad citizen? On the contrary, it makes me an American. We Americans are constantly giving the finger to the "good citizenship" crowd over at PBS and C-Span by not caring enough about our democracy. You know, every four years we are treated to the hand-wringing about the 50% of us who don't even bother to vote, for crying out loud. Why, those poor souls over in Iraq stand in line for days at risk to their own safety for the chance to have their voices heard and get their fingers painted purple...they put us to shame!! No, actually they don't. The reason they stand in line for days is because their government SUCKS, their existence so hopeless that the chance to vote is like throwing a life line to a drowning man. When 50% of us don't show up at the polls I, for one, am greatly relieved and encouraged. I'm relieved that the 50% of Americans who can't name either of the senators from their own state and who think that the supreme court is the name of Diana Ross' second album are NOT dumbing down the voter pool. I'm encouraged because 50% of us don't think it matters because we're too busy living our lives in a free country.

Do I vote? Yes. Does it make a game-changing difference to me who wins? No, because I am the captain of my ship and the ocean of my life is too big to be roiled by some nerd from the Coast Guard who thinks all of my crew should be required to wear life jackets.  Yes, I vote, because maybe if enough of the right kind of men and women get elected then maybe the nerds from the Coast Guard will be easier to get along with. But thats about it. Nobody from Washington is ever laying a hand on my wheel.

The SOTU has become a celebration of politics. Its the big show, time for every Congressman and Senator to dress up and maybe get a little face time in their nice clothes looking grave and serious about the business of the Republic. It's almost like the Oscars only with no gorgeous women. Actually politics in America is alot like entertainment...Hollywood for ugly people you might say. But I don't watch the Oscar's show because it goes on forever and everyone is so shallow and self-important. I don't watch the SOTU for the same reason.

The Adventures of Being a Dunnevant

I have a rather unique family. I here use that term very broadly to include my siblings and their children along with the children of THEIR children...24 of us in all. Every other year all of us take a beach vacation together. In the same house. For an entire week. Together.

Now I know, for many of you that sounds positively dreadful. The idea of going somewhere at considerable expense to spend quality time with your entire extended family sounds very much like a prison sentence NOT a vacation. But I must say that its actually a blast for us...ONCE WE GET THERE. We genuinely love each other for one thing so that helps. These beach trips have also been the source of many fond and often hilarious stories that have contributed  much to the family lore.

The troublesome part is the deciding..that long and contentious process of e-mail battles and internet- scorching back and forth that takes place as we try to find a house large enough, nice enough, with worthy enough views, affordably priced, and available during the one 7 day stretch in the entire summer on which WE are all available. Whenever you notice a slow-down in the speed and reliability of your internet service in mid-January, its not because of some server issue or band-width utilization problem at comcast or verizon. No..its because the Dunnevant family Beach "dialogue" has begun!

Of course..my wife is the official hostess of this cyber-confab. She sets up a web-site for all of us to view the 16,000 houses we have to pick from from Virginia Beach to Pawleys Island. Then we eliminate all those without an elevator for Nanny and Papa. We then scrub all houses without a place for 24 people to sit at a single table for meals. Then we 86 all homes that cost more than $600 per person...leaving us TWO houses to pick from..one of which always has "dreadful carpet and ridiculously hideous furniture.

Now comes the fun part...planning the Dunnevant Family yard sale. Yes, every two years we all pile all of our junk onto Ron's mothers' lawn in Mechanicsville and every two years like a plague of swarmimg locusts, red-necks, scary-looking grandparents and assorted hicks descend on the pile. When all the dust settles and the rejected junk is hauled away to good-will, we find ourselves with close to $1000 to spend on groceries at the beach.You see..when my family goes to the beach for vacation it never occurs to us that we should go OUT to eat. No, no..each sub-family gets the privilege of planning AND cooking a meal for 24 in a strange kitchen with food that we have spent 4 hours at a strange grocery store buying and hauling to the car and then hauling up the elevator (thank GOD!!) to the strange kitchen where we have somewhere placed the mayonnaise that we can't find to save our collective lives!!!! Yes this is great fun and is often the subject of many uproariously funny stories...many years after the fact.

There always comes a time during every trip where things come together. Its usually in the evening after all of the little ones have had their baths and we're all out on the deck or out on the beach watching the heat lightning race across the sky. Somebody starts singing and before long the guitars are out we find ourselves laughing and singing Mom's favorite hymns. Its a good feeling. Everyone is there. Everyone is happy and it reminds us all why we do it.



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Young Frankenstein

During a break in the action of the Jets-Patriots game Sunday night I was flipping through the channels and came upon one of the funniest scenes of all times in a movie. Of course, it was a Mel Brooks picture...Young Frankenstein. Gene Wilders' character is being choked to death from the awakened monster and he is trying to get Inga and Igor to administer a sedative to the beast but since he can't speak he begins a hilarious game of charades while being manhandled. After what seems forever Igor finally guesses..."SEDAGIVE!!!" A second later Inga screams.."Oh!..no..sedative!!" and gives Frankenstein the shot. Once the beast finally passes out Gene Wilder,exhausted from the battle looks up at Igor and says..."...SEDAGIVE????!!"

Even though I've seen that movie a dozen times that particular scene always cracks me up. I don't really know why. Its mostly slapstick and the punch line is one word and all but for me its laugh out loud hysterical.