All I Have Needed...

Great weekend. The Portara concert was wonderful. Everything went off without a hitch. So, today we make the 600 mile drive back home, back to our life in Short Pump.

The strangest thing happened to me in church yesterday. Patrick is a paid section leader in the choir at West End United Methodist church in Nashville. It meets in one of those old, stately buildings that feature grand stained glass windows and giant stone archways. There's that smell of furniture polish and musty carpeting so familiar to me from my childhood. The service at West End is highly liturgical, and the pulpit is hovered over by an imposing pipe organ, the kind that you feel in your chest at times. Towards the end of the service, the organ began blasting out the notes of Great is Thy Faithfulness, as the recessional. The congregation was invited to sing...all three verses.

...there is no shadow of turning with thee...

Music has a tendency, like smells, to evoke memories. As the words of this old hymn began ringing out in the great hall, a flood of them came to me...the musty taste of stale sugar cookies and kool-aid in cinderblock rooms during vacation bible school, the clink-clank of silverwear in the fellowship hall  while standing in line at a covered-dish supper.

...thou changeth not, thy compassions they fail not...

It had been so long since I had heard a crowd of people inside a church singing this old song from full-throated memory. It occurred to me that it had been one of mother's favorites. We kids would frequently hear her singing it while she did the dishes or ironed our shirts.

...as thou hath been, thou forever wilt be...

I began to feel a sense of great loss for some reason. The memories stirred to life by this hymn felt ancient, yet stillborn. They came from a place I can never again go, a time that only occasionally comes to life in a photograph or in the lyric of a song.

...Great is thy faithfulness, Great is thy faithfulness. Morning by morning new mercies I see...

Then, suddenly my voice went silent. A tightness came to my throat. My mouth moved to form the words, but no words would come. My eyes became moist. It was as if I could actually see my mother standing at the sink, wearing her apron, humming the tune until she got to these words. It was at this moment when we could all hear her rich alto sing the words that I could not...

...all I have needed thy hands hath provided. Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

The emotion startled me. Where had it come from, so powerful and intense? The second verse began and I quickly recovered, but when the chorus came back around, the heaviness in the throat returned. Once again, I couldn't form the words...

...all I have needed thy hands hath provided...

I don't pretend to understand the complexities of the human mind and the place that memory has in the heart of man. But, for me, music is often the catalyst. But, why this particular line, why these words? Perhaps because it perfectly reflected my mother's entire life on this earth.

...all I have needed thy hands hath provided...

Please. Read. This.

. Www.cua.edu/speeches-and-homilies/2017/commencement-2017.html

The above link is my blog for today. It cannot be improved upon by anything I might add. She is one of my heros, and her commencement address is so profoundly wise and beautiful, I feel it my duty to insure that as many people as possible read it. Pour yourself some coffee, give yourself fifteen uninterrupted minutes and read this. You will not be disappointed.

You're welcomed.

Getting Pumped for The Escape

Ok, today has many fun things on the agenda. First thing for me will be an hour in the workout room of the hotel. Last night, I gorged myself on not one, but TWO ginormous kielbasas. They were almost  Blazing Saddles big, so much so that I almost felt compelled to say, Auf Wiedersehen, baby to the waitress when we left! Anyway, the damage has been done, so repair work must be done, which will include at least three miles on the treadmill.

Patrick and Sarah have a rehearsal planned this morning for their Portara concert on Sunday night, so they are tied up. We have been tasked with the huge job of securing lunch from the famed Hattie B's.
Apparently, there is no hope for actually getting a table, so plan B is for us to order our food at their website, then go pick it up from the place, then meet Patrick and Sarah at his apartment so we can eat it there. What in tarnation is up with this Hattie B place, anyway? I've never heard of a restaurant where actually getting a table is considered a bridge too far. This Nashville hot chicken is apparently all that and more. I'm told by my son to not even think about getting my chicken with the hot designation. He says that I'll have enough trouble with the medium, that hot is undoable. Hmmm....

Assuming we can secure our lunch without incedent, Patrick will then take us to visit the famous Nashville Parthenon, which somehow in our previous 38 trips down here, we've managed to miss. It is essentially a full-sized replica of the Greek original and contains an American knockoff of Athena herself.

So, after an afternoon of unabashed idol-worship, we will meet back up with Sarah for another fabulous dinner in this city of unlimited culinary choice. I forget which restaurant we decided on, but I'm sure it will be amazing. After dinner, the highlight of the day will feature the four of us paying $40 a head to be placed in a locked room with four complete strangers and tasked with solving a vexing puzzle all the while a gigantic clock tics overhead reminding us how much time we have left to either solve the puzzle of die in a hail of gunfire/ be boiled in a giant vat of acid/ or succumb to instant nuclear winter....metaphorically. The game is called Escape, and it's a thing. Sounds awesome to me, but I'm nervous we will get teamed up with some loser family from Arkansas on their first trip to the big city...look Ethyl, them steps actually move, you don't even have to climb!!!! Or even worse, we'll get the group of four social justice warriors in town for the George Soros "Resist symposium"...this game blows!! It's so patriarchal! Regardless, I am confident that we will prevail, despite whatever dead weight we are asked to carry. We are Dunnevant's, after all.

Anticipation....

Thirty-three years ago today, I married the lovely and talented Miss Pamela Jean White. In doing so, I demonstrated legendary powers of salesmanship, punched way out of my weight class, got out over my skis, out-kicked my coverage, and any other sports analogy you can think of. Today, we will celebrate my "heist of the century" by driving 9 hours to Nashville to visit one of the two products of our union, our youngest, our only son, Patrick. Thirty-three years ago at about this time, I was playing full court basketball with my groomsmen, enduring epically offensive trash talk of the sort that isn't suitable for public airing. They were all so jealous of me, it wasn't even funny.

Of all the guys in the world, she picks YOU? She could have had anybody she wanted, and she picks YOU??

That's right, boys. She picked ME!!

Anyway, as the nine hour trip wears on, my back will start tightening up, my hamstrings will begin to throb. By the time we arrive at our hotel in East Nashville, I'll be so stiff and sore I might need assistance getting out of the car. However, I will be sustained during the journey by the thought of what will happen when we get there. As soon as we pull into that parking lot, my physical problems will vanish. I will have gazed at my adorable wife from across the console for over nine hours. The entire time, the anticipation will have been building, until finally, our hotel room awaits, and you know what that means...

Yep, we've got a reservation at Butchertown Hall, baby!!! Smoked meat and other delicious meats, is how Patrick described it. Driving nine hours for meat will be so worth it!!!

Getting Ready for Nashville

Today will be a day packed with trip preparation. I have a list of a dozen things that need to be done to get ready to leave for three days and nights in Nashville, Tennessee. We make a trip every spring to see our son, around the time of his birthday. It's such a fun city, with so many cool things to do and places to eat. But mostly, we get to hang out with him and his girlfriend, Sarah, who we love dearly. The highlight of the weekend will be a concert by a choir they are both in called the Portara Ensemble. We've heard them before and they are phenomenal, if you like that sort of thing...and by sort of thing I mean, gorgeous choral music performed by professionally trained musicians, who for no compensation rehearse for days in order to edify an entire room full of enraptured listeners free of charge. I rather think a love offering should be taken up at the end to give us freeloaders a chance to do the right thing, but that's just me.

So, a couple of days ago I texted my son and asked him to send us some ideas of what he wanted to do while we were in town. Part of the reason for this request is that our hotel is on one side of town, and his apartment is as far away from as it is possible to be while still being in Nashville. The reasons for this unhappy fact is a combination of several factors, primarily the fact that he lives in a weird part of town, and the hotels nearer to him are either sold out or three times as expensive as our Homewood Suites. Anyway, I thought it might make it easier to plan if we knew the locations of stuff, etc. etc... The next thing I know, he sends us a Google Doc, complete with web links to every activity and restaurant listed. He even had mapped out an itinerary...11:45-12:45 Saturday, lunch at any of the following six restaurants...

My son has slowly turned into his mother!

So, as a public service to any of you who might be interested in visiting Nashville anytime soon, here is a list of the restaurants which my soon to be 28 year old Millenial approves of, with the descriptors as they appear in the Google Doc:

Loveless Cafe (Southern breakfast)
The Pfunky Griddle (self-serve pancakes)
Hattie B's (hot chicken)
The Grilled Cheeserie (fancy grilled cheese)
Salt and Vine(lighter sandwiches and wine)
Taco Mamacita(fancy tacos)
The Harding House(at the Belle Meade Plantation)
Nomzilla (sushi)
Amerigo (Italian)
Adele's (seasonal, like Husk)
Butchertown Hall( smoked and other delicious meats) BING BING BING( we have a winner!!)
Virago (sushi)
Germantown Cafe( fine dining)

You're welcomed!

Trump News Update

Wonder what today will bring?

Yesterday was great. There was the Comey diaries and the tantalizing prospect that they might contain a smoking gun which might bring impeachment down on Trump's head. The entire Washington press corps let out a celebratory huzzah that could be heard all the way out in Arlington. But then, the wording of those diaries was weasley enough to call into question any definitive accusation, or was it???? Perhaps a congressional subpoena is in the offing. And how about that Mike Flynn nugget? Did Trump actually demand that Comey call off the dogs at the FBI, or did he simply ask, politely, that maybe he should consider it? Is there a difference between the two? Is this merely a distinction without a difference or is the actual language used important? Are there really tapes? Oh, and what about poor Seth Rich? Did he have contact with Wikileaks shortly before his mysterious murder? There's a laptop, apparently, and the D.C. Police have been asked to stand down on their investigation...by whom?, the curious observer must ask. But wait...now that Sean Hannity is all in on the story, it's starting to fall apart. There's a financial advisor from Dallas involved  now(always a bad sign), and the family of Mr. Rich is furious at what they call fake news. The most popular word making the rounds yesterday was impeachment. 

My Trump-loving friends still insist that everything is under control, that their guy is still playing ten moves ahead, Jedi master four dimensional chess and has his enemies exactly where he wants them. The few who will admit that things aren't going all that well lay the blame on the dishonest media and the deep state, shadow government, being run by Obama loyalists throughout the bowels of government. It is these fifth columnists who are responsible for all the leaks designed to undermine public confidence in the Trump presidency.( If true, mission accomplished).

When people like me spoke of the importance of temperament back during the campaign, this is what we meant. It is possible for people with wildly different personality types to be successful in a great variety of efforts. Indeed, Donald Trump's skill set worked very well in the ego-driven world of real estate developement, and the creation of a dynamic brand. But those sorts of skills get dilluted in high profile, high pressure, heavily protocol-restrictive lines of work like...the Presidency. The problem for Trump is not that the job is changing him, the problem is that it hasn't changed him at all! He is going about his business exactly the same way he has for 70 years, seeking out headlines, reveling in controversy and chaos, and keeping even his closest advisors in the dark. His is the first ever ad hoc presidency, and we are about to discover if ad hoc works at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

If I were a bookmaker in Vegas, where would I place the over and under on how long Trump makes it before an impeachment attempt...a year? Two? Or maybe, one day he wakes up and decides that he's had it with being President and just quits. Knowing Trump's style, who among us actually thinks that a drama-filled resignation is at least a possibility with this guy? I do. Can you imagine the advance he would score from the tell-all book he would ghost write about it? It would make the Obama's 60 million look like chump change!

So, what will today bring? With Trump, literally anything is possible.

A Silver Lining

This morning, I ask for your forbearance as I hash out a new idea, a new revelation, a possible silver lining to the terrifying black cloud hanging over my country...

Ok, now we've got a new "gate." You know...that nauseating suffix that the press always attaches to every new tempest in a teapot that happens in Washington, illustrating perfectly the fact that the press hasn't done its job since the 1970's. This one has been dubbed, blabbergate, and it concerns the allegation that Trump might have spilled some classified beans to the Russian foreign minister about some covert anti-terror operation. I say "might have" simply because I don't trust the objectivity of the Washington Post, or any other media organization when it comes to Trump. Their hatred of him is so visceral, so laid bare, their reporting is rendered suspect. However, does anyone who has been paying attention this past year, find this allegation hard to believe?? Actually, this is exactly the sort of thing I can imagine Trump doing, not out of malice or menace but out of his blustering, sand pounding narcissism. I have the best intelligence, I get the best intelligence every morning, it's incredible how much intelligence I get from the best spies in the world, frankly. I mean, just the other day they told me....

I read the news every morning. Occasionally, when I'm in a self-loathing mood, I'll watch cable news. I see a level of dysfunction that plows new ground every single day. Never in my lifetime has this country been governed at its highest level by such a collection of halfwits. The degree of incompetence on display, not just in the White House but in every other branch of this government, is staggering. And yet....

Almost every economic indicator is trending in a positive direction. The stock market is booming. Inflation is still MIA. Unemployment is down. These things have happened not because of Trump or anyone else in Washington, but in spite of them!! Herein lies the seed of a silver lining.

Suppose, just suppose for a minute, that despite the woeful inadequacy of our infantile leadership, the country prospers anyway? What would happen if after a couple of years of peace and prosperity under Donald Trump and the Seven Dwarfs, people suddenly realized that Washington DC isn't the fount of all blessings after all, that maybe, just maybe our Republic can thrive and prosper even with idiots at the helm? Finally, the cult of personality that has become the Presidency, the myth that has grown up around the notion of the professional politician, will be revealed in all of its emptiness. The power of the political class might be destroyed altogether, their ability to scare us into voting for them and against the other forever vanquished. Can you imagine how freeing that would be? The next time some politician says, "this country cannot afford four more years of ------!! The stakes are too high, the dangers too grave!!" ...we can all reply, "Oh yeah? Well, I got eight raises, took three European vacations, and bought a robot who cleans my house while Donald Trump was President and Paul Ryan was Speaker of the House. Shut up!!"

Once disabused of the idea of the supremacy of politics, people would be freed up to take care of their own problems, fix their own neighborhoods, their own schools. As long as the really smart creative people keep going into business and science, their brain power would sustain us. Sure, we would still have politicians, but they would be quarantined in Washington where they couldn't do any harm to anyone. And sure, there are flaws in this idea of a politician-free world. But who among us can't see the benefit to bringing the lot of them back down to Earth in the area of their towering self regard?

Donald Trump was President and the economy grew by 5% a year. That outcome is simply loaded with redemptive possibilities!!!