You'd have a hard time calling me wealthy. I'm not hungry, but I'm certainly not rolling in the dough either. Several years ago when I was singing for a living our group recorded a live set and I was documented there saying something like, "We feel very wealthy having so many good friends. Just know we may need to trade some of you in on a bus payment one day." (Maybe you had to be there.) But I still feel rich that way.
Several years ago I made a new friend from Brazil. His name is Paulo, and he'd already been around the world a time or two before he settled in Lexington, Kentucky. He's one of the most fun and interesting friends I have.
There's a gigantic old sanitarium in Louisville that is supposedly honest-to-goodness haunted. During the fright season it is opened up for tours. It's a popular attraction and the wait to get in is sometimes three hours or more. This past Halloween Paulo and Zac and Ronnie and I decided to drive over and live a little. I didn't know until then how jumpy Paulo was. All you had to do was say, "Hey Paulo." When he'd say, "What?" You say, "Boo!" He jumped every time. By the time he survived the haunted hospital he was a sloppy bag of nerves.
I don't know how many languages he speaks now since he's always learning new ones. I do know he could probably walk down Main Street Disneyworld and hold an intelligent conversation with just about anyone from anywhere. And as versed as he is in a variety of languages, he's just about as familiar with all of the cultures that go along. I take that back. Actually, he's probably experienced, first-hand, more cultures than he can actually speak the language. That's really saying something. I think he told me once that there is only one continent he has not set foot on and that's just because he didn't think about packing his long underwear.
I like talking to Paulo. His English is good, but he doesn't mess around with peripheral words. He speaks directly and sometimes it's a blast just listening in when he's talking to someone, especially someone who is just meeting him. When Paulo says something really astounding and the other person says, "Oh, shut up..." instead of, "that's amazing," Paulo just shuts up. There's a certain cuteness to the naivetee that sorta reaction generates.
The really neat thing about Paulo is his value of friendship. As much as he travels, and with all of the things he gets to see and experience and taste, he often tells me and his other friends here at home how much he longs to be here where we are and be a part of our conversations. Of course, when we're talking and he's in London or Australia or Saudi Arabia, we're usually talking about him. When he comes home we want to hear about his travels. He wants to know what we've been doing.
Today is Paulo's birthday. Last I heard he was in Brazil visiting his family. I sent him a text message this morning and within a minute or two he replied. I don't know how old he is, but he's experienced a lifetime worth of neat things already. Happy birthday my friend!!
6.01.2008
5.28.2008
well that just hurts...
Living is getting more expensive by the day, literally. A lot of people I know have cancelled their vacation plans this year. They're hanging around the house instead, hoping to still be able to to put gas in the tank and get to work everyday. What was a nuisance has become a very serious and compelling problem for a lot of folks. The cost of getting us anywhere and getting anything to us is simply out of control.
One of our local talk radio stations that usually gives away concert tickets and movie passes as contest prizes is now giving away free gas. Car makers have found a fresh gimmick by promising to keep the price of a gallon within reason for a few years if you'll buy one of their models. A really smart airline sorta hid in the bushes and waited it out while most of the others raised their fares. Now the holdout is advertising the lowest ticket prices without all of the added fees and they're filling their planes while the others scratch their heads and wonder what happened.
Businesses are finding ways to cope with the record high gas and fuel prices. Most of them are looking for ways to survive. In the meantime, the companies that supply the pumps are snickering and thriving.
A week or so ago I saw the top guy with Exxon Mobil talking to Matt Lauer on TV. His basic response to every question was something like, "I know the public doesn't like it, but it's not an optional purchase. They have to have it." (loose quote) That just struck me as arrogant and demeaning. We learned later that the exec makes about $12.5 million a year. He can probably afford his company's gas - if he pays for it at all.
I understand there are several factors that contribute to where we are with fuel prices these days. The big oil companies can't control every step from searching to drilling to brokering to transporting to refining to transporting again... But I refuse to believe they are powerless. There has to be something they can do to show some sort of support for all of the hard working folks who are finding it a day-to-day task to just keep up - forget getting ahead.
For one thing, maybe take a look at the top salaries in the business and at least make it look like the people there are willing to sorta sacrifice like the rest of us are forced to. Overall the dollar impact would be nearly nonexistent at the pump, but the act would show us something of a heart in those immaculate board rooms. Next, how about taking a look at those hefty profit figures. I'm certainly not against any business making a profit. They should do well and prosper, but not while our most vulnerable are getting hungrier, losing their homes, limping and dying.
We have to buy gas. Some folks can change their habits. Public transportation is an option for a few. Carpooling is another. But for most there's no way to avoid pulling into a pump and swallowing hard.
I'll say here, I am very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very leery of the government taking any kind of control of the oil industry, or even regulating it with a heavy hand. So, since the top guys at the top companies told our federal lawmakers, under oath, that it was as simple as supply and demand, let's put their excuse for ungodly prices into practice for something more reasonable.
Since a complete boycott is not practical, a partial one can be. Instead of calling for a day to avoid the pumps altogether, which means the day before or the day after sets record gas sales, we should choose a company to stay away from and wait for them to feel the pressure to bring their prices within reason. When/if they respond we start buying their gas again and choose another company to boycott until they respond. When the folks at company "A" sees everyone patronizing company "B" they will hopefully do something to compete - bringing their gas prices down.
It'll take great organization and lots of discipline to do it right, but how long can we afford to do nothing?
P.S. The good folks who work the counter at the stations don't decide how much you pay for gas. Be kind to them.
One of our local talk radio stations that usually gives away concert tickets and movie passes as contest prizes is now giving away free gas. Car makers have found a fresh gimmick by promising to keep the price of a gallon within reason for a few years if you'll buy one of their models. A really smart airline sorta hid in the bushes and waited it out while most of the others raised their fares. Now the holdout is advertising the lowest ticket prices without all of the added fees and they're filling their planes while the others scratch their heads and wonder what happened.
Businesses are finding ways to cope with the record high gas and fuel prices. Most of them are looking for ways to survive. In the meantime, the companies that supply the pumps are snickering and thriving.
A week or so ago I saw the top guy with Exxon Mobil talking to Matt Lauer on TV. His basic response to every question was something like, "I know the public doesn't like it, but it's not an optional purchase. They have to have it." (loose quote) That just struck me as arrogant and demeaning. We learned later that the exec makes about $12.5 million a year. He can probably afford his company's gas - if he pays for it at all.
I understand there are several factors that contribute to where we are with fuel prices these days. The big oil companies can't control every step from searching to drilling to brokering to transporting to refining to transporting again... But I refuse to believe they are powerless. There has to be something they can do to show some sort of support for all of the hard working folks who are finding it a day-to-day task to just keep up - forget getting ahead.
For one thing, maybe take a look at the top salaries in the business and at least make it look like the people there are willing to sorta sacrifice like the rest of us are forced to. Overall the dollar impact would be nearly nonexistent at the pump, but the act would show us something of a heart in those immaculate board rooms. Next, how about taking a look at those hefty profit figures. I'm certainly not against any business making a profit. They should do well and prosper, but not while our most vulnerable are getting hungrier, losing their homes, limping and dying.
We have to buy gas. Some folks can change their habits. Public transportation is an option for a few. Carpooling is another. But for most there's no way to avoid pulling into a pump and swallowing hard.
I'll say here, I am very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very leery of the government taking any kind of control of the oil industry, or even regulating it with a heavy hand. So, since the top guys at the top companies told our federal lawmakers, under oath, that it was as simple as supply and demand, let's put their excuse for ungodly prices into practice for something more reasonable.
Since a complete boycott is not practical, a partial one can be. Instead of calling for a day to avoid the pumps altogether, which means the day before or the day after sets record gas sales, we should choose a company to stay away from and wait for them to feel the pressure to bring their prices within reason. When/if they respond we start buying their gas again and choose another company to boycott until they respond. When the folks at company "A" sees everyone patronizing company "B" they will hopefully do something to compete - bringing their gas prices down.
It'll take great organization and lots of discipline to do it right, but how long can we afford to do nothing?
P.S. The good folks who work the counter at the stations don't decide how much you pay for gas. Be kind to them.
5.27.2008
thinking about yesterday
Today feels like Monday. I woke up Sunday morning thinking it was Saturday. By the time I realized I was tricked I'd already missed church. I felt bad about that.
I spent most of the daylight hours this past weekend working on landscaping my yard. There are lots of big trees surrounding the place, but closer to the ground things have been pretty much neglected for a few years now. So, since most folks look at where they are stepping, my project this spring has been to make things around the outside of the house look a little nicer.
This was my weekend to have my son Christian with me. He helped me stack stones and dump dirt and dig holes and trim bushes. He's expensive though. About 45 minutes of accumulated work cost me $20. That's not much for a professional, but he's not licenced. He was handy though and we enjoyed chatting while we worked.
Saturday and Sunday was picture-perfect weather. The plan was to get all of the yard work done those two days and enjoy family, friends and the pool on Monday. When I woke up that morning though the weather guy on TV said probably not. "What more do you want?!" He asked. "You had two good days of perfect weather. Don't push it!" He was right. I felt greedy for asking, especially after seeing the terrible destruction left from the tornadoes in the mid west. I've been praying for the victims there.
Even with the clouds and the threat of rain, yesterday was a wonderful day. We had some of our closest friends come hang with us, and my kids, who happen to be the two most important people in my life were there. Casie brought her boyfriend Cody. We talked and grilled and ate and visited.
It was a good day yesterday. I've spent most of this day so far thinking about it.
I spent most of the daylight hours this past weekend working on landscaping my yard. There are lots of big trees surrounding the place, but closer to the ground things have been pretty much neglected for a few years now. So, since most folks look at where they are stepping, my project this spring has been to make things around the outside of the house look a little nicer.
This was my weekend to have my son Christian with me. He helped me stack stones and dump dirt and dig holes and trim bushes. He's expensive though. About 45 minutes of accumulated work cost me $20. That's not much for a professional, but he's not licenced. He was handy though and we enjoyed chatting while we worked.
Saturday and Sunday was picture-perfect weather. The plan was to get all of the yard work done those two days and enjoy family, friends and the pool on Monday. When I woke up that morning though the weather guy on TV said probably not. "What more do you want?!" He asked. "You had two good days of perfect weather. Don't push it!" He was right. I felt greedy for asking, especially after seeing the terrible destruction left from the tornadoes in the mid west. I've been praying for the victims there.
Even with the clouds and the threat of rain, yesterday was a wonderful day. We had some of our closest friends come hang with us, and my kids, who happen to be the two most important people in my life were there. Casie brought her boyfriend Cody. We talked and grilled and ate and visited.
It was a good day yesterday. I've spent most of this day so far thinking about it.
5.26.2008
flags...
When I was a kid, growing up in central Kentucky, the only flag I ever saw waving over our simple, middle-class neighborhood was the one in front of the Congleton's house down the street. Mr. Congleton was a veteran, and he treated those Stars and Stripes and the tall pole that displayed them like they were two of his children. Of course in 1976 it seemed everyone had red, white and blue fever. That bicentennial year was a wonderful, patriotic time I thought.
I don't remember, then, seeing all of the garden flags that you see on houses around the neighborhood these days. Get online or go to pretty much any local store and you can find a nice 3'x5' flag or a smaller garden banner that'll tell all of your neighbors and passersby what your hobbies are, your favorite animal or bug, where the party is or any variety of neat things about you and your family. I don't remember seeing them around our neighborhood when I was a kid though.
Today is a good flag day. I am proud on days like this one to get Old Glory out of storage and hang her out in the breeze. As a matter of fact, I have two of them - one in the front of my house and a smaller one at the back patio entrance since that's where most of my family and friends and guests come in when they visit.
I'm a proud American. You can be a Democrat OR a Republican and be very patriotic. You can even be registered as neither of the above and still have a tremendous love for your country. Even those who never cast a vote can be proud Americans, although I think they'd feel much more invested if they spoke up on election day. But the mold that determines a person's dedication to their country is really pretty loose.
Your skin doesn't have to be a certain color to feel the specialness of these United States. In my opinion the Pledge of Allegiance is even more emotional and meaningful among all of this country's regional and even foreign accents. I've learned that life experience and being in tune globally usually makes you more aware of your own fortune, but you can be any age and still recognize the specialness of living in this very proseprous land.
I don't question a person's patriotism. Just like their faith, they may express it differently than I do. Their traditions and mine may not be anything alike. And although I know plenty of well-meaning, dedicated Christians who feel you can only be a real American patriot if you're a King James only, southern gospel loving, fundamentalist conservative, I know quite a few loyal lovers of this land who could prove them wrong.
And that is why we remember those who fought and gave. Have a thoughtful Memorial Day.
I don't remember, then, seeing all of the garden flags that you see on houses around the neighborhood these days. Get online or go to pretty much any local store and you can find a nice 3'x5' flag or a smaller garden banner that'll tell all of your neighbors and passersby what your hobbies are, your favorite animal or bug, where the party is or any variety of neat things about you and your family. I don't remember seeing them around our neighborhood when I was a kid though.
Today is a good flag day. I am proud on days like this one to get Old Glory out of storage and hang her out in the breeze. As a matter of fact, I have two of them - one in the front of my house and a smaller one at the back patio entrance since that's where most of my family and friends and guests come in when they visit.
I'm a proud American. You can be a Democrat OR a Republican and be very patriotic. You can even be registered as neither of the above and still have a tremendous love for your country. Even those who never cast a vote can be proud Americans, although I think they'd feel much more invested if they spoke up on election day. But the mold that determines a person's dedication to their country is really pretty loose.
Your skin doesn't have to be a certain color to feel the specialness of these United States. In my opinion the Pledge of Allegiance is even more emotional and meaningful among all of this country's regional and even foreign accents. I've learned that life experience and being in tune globally usually makes you more aware of your own fortune, but you can be any age and still recognize the specialness of living in this very proseprous land.
I don't question a person's patriotism. Just like their faith, they may express it differently than I do. Their traditions and mine may not be anything alike. And although I know plenty of well-meaning, dedicated Christians who feel you can only be a real American patriot if you're a King James only, southern gospel loving, fundamentalist conservative, I know quite a few loyal lovers of this land who could prove them wrong.
And that is why we remember those who fought and gave. Have a thoughtful Memorial Day.
5.24.2008
"doc"
I don't remember why I started calling my friend David by the name Doc. As a matter of fact, I think I'm the only person in the world who calls him that. He's a school teacher and an administrator and a caterer and a pianist and a pageant trainer and a show promoter and more. He does a lot. As a matter of fact, he's one of those people who makes the nearly impossible happen anyway. I used to tell him, if he'd been around when Jesus was born he would've gotten them into a suite. But none of the things he does requires him to be a Doc. At least not right now.
I've heard it said that you know a person is a prophet if their prophecies actually come true. I certainly don't claim to be one, but an unintentional word about the future is on its way to becoming a reality. For several summers now my friend has been living in Boston, going to school, on his way to earning his PhD. He's nearly finished now and when he is I will be a prophet. More importantly, he will be a doctor.
Other than my kids, I don't know of anyone I am more proud of. When he had opportunities in the past to move on to bigger, better and more lucrative things, Doc decided to stay close to his family and friends who needed him. He put his dreams on hold to serve others. When he senses I'm down he calls. On special days we always chat. He's been that way since I've known him.
The first time I met David, our family was singing in Baxley, Georgia. We pulled up to the church and this bouncy and extravagant guy met us at the door and welcomed us in like we were family who'd been gone too long. We hit it off right then, and Doc has been as good a friend as anyone could ever, ever ask for since.
Today is his birthday, and I miss him. He's several hours away and we don't get to see each other as often as we'd like. I think I'll call him now.
Happy birthday Doc!!
I've heard it said that you know a person is a prophet if their prophecies actually come true. I certainly don't claim to be one, but an unintentional word about the future is on its way to becoming a reality. For several summers now my friend has been living in Boston, going to school, on his way to earning his PhD. He's nearly finished now and when he is I will be a prophet. More importantly, he will be a doctor.
Other than my kids, I don't know of anyone I am more proud of. When he had opportunities in the past to move on to bigger, better and more lucrative things, Doc decided to stay close to his family and friends who needed him. He put his dreams on hold to serve others. When he senses I'm down he calls. On special days we always chat. He's been that way since I've known him.
The first time I met David, our family was singing in Baxley, Georgia. We pulled up to the church and this bouncy and extravagant guy met us at the door and welcomed us in like we were family who'd been gone too long. We hit it off right then, and Doc has been as good a friend as anyone could ever, ever ask for since.
Today is his birthday, and I miss him. He's several hours away and we don't get to see each other as often as we'd like. I think I'll call him now.
Happy birthday Doc!!
5.22.2008
american idol showed itself
This is a day late, but did anyone else catch the gaffe at the end of American Idol's Tuesday night show? Maybe it's happened before and I just wasn't paying close enough attention, but I always assumed that when they showed the clips of each night's performance at the end of the show it was actual clips of that night's live performances. Even if that has been the case all season long, it wasn't so this past Tuesday night.
I have a DVR that allows me to pause, rewind and record TV. I've gotten used to having it and sometimes I find myself wanting to rewind a scene when I'm at the movie theater or watching TV at a friend's house. It's a pretty cool luxury, and it came in handy this week as I rewound, fast-forwarded and rewound again and again to make sure I was seeing and hearing things correctly.
The little David sang his three songs and did them well. I've been super impressed by his talent all season. At the end of the show when they played back his live performances and closed the clip with his ending of "Imagine" I noticed that he did a little trill thing and didn't go straight to the last note. In his actual live performance he did go straight to the note. I thought it was uncharacteristic of his style, so it stuck out to me. That's why I noticed the difference in the play back.
Did anyone else notice it? Have you noticed other inaccuracies or technical gaffes during AI this season?
I have a DVR that allows me to pause, rewind and record TV. I've gotten used to having it and sometimes I find myself wanting to rewind a scene when I'm at the movie theater or watching TV at a friend's house. It's a pretty cool luxury, and it came in handy this week as I rewound, fast-forwarded and rewound again and again to make sure I was seeing and hearing things correctly.
The little David sang his three songs and did them well. I've been super impressed by his talent all season. At the end of the show when they played back his live performances and closed the clip with his ending of "Imagine" I noticed that he did a little trill thing and didn't go straight to the last note. In his actual live performance he did go straight to the note. I thought it was uncharacteristic of his style, so it stuck out to me. That's why I noticed the difference in the play back.
Did anyone else notice it? Have you noticed other inaccuracies or technical gaffes during AI this season?
5.21.2008
aaggghhh cnn!!
Yesterday was primary election day here in Kentucky. Most of the rest of the country has already spoken, and, for the most part, the people have decided that either John McCain or Barack Obama will be our next president. You never know though. Hillary Clinton won big in the Bluegrass State, and the never-stop-jabbering mouth pieces at CNN have been giving us lots of grief for it.
Yesterday was also Oregon's primary election day. Well, sorta. Out there you mail your ballot in or drop it off with the clerk. Yesterday was the deadline. Senator Obama won that race, and according to CNN's expert talkers, it is because the people in Oregon are smarter, wealthier and more open minded than the backwoods hicks in Kentucky. Not only do the folks at CNN believe it, they repeated it over and over and over again all night last night and again this morning.
I work at the state capitol. The CNN Express bus has been parked out in front of this beautiful building for a week now. They've been doing live reports and using our capitol dome as the backdrop. They've had plenty of time to get acquainted with some of the fine people who live and work in this artsy, educated town. But they didn't bother to get to know anyone while they were here.
Instead, on election day the CNN crew loaded up and travelled at least three hours into one of the most remote and impoverished areas of our state to ask those folks who they voted for or why they didn't vote at all. So, instead of seeing one of our many well spoken and pleasantly presented citizens on national television explaining why they intelligently decided to cast their vote the way they did, we saw a well intentioned but very stereotypical mountain lady telling a camera that "a woman's place is in the home and I ain't about to vote for no black man."
The people who live in rural Kentucky are good, decent people. They shouldn't be ignored and we shouldn't pretend they don't exist. Their voice is as important as anyone else's. But the portrait of Kentucky that CNN is trying to paint is simply not accurate. When there were tens of thousands of reasonable, articulate people to talk to about something as important as the presidential election, they went out of their way to find and air footage of their version of a hillbilly. Then the reporter went on to describe Kentucky as an uneducated, poor, backwoods, bigoted state. When it was tossed back to the studio the "experts" there continued their insults. I was offended.
I've been around politics and the media long enough to understand that the news agencies tell you what they want you to know. They often have information or facts that may change the texture or direction of a story. But if it doesn't serve their purpose or advance their agenda you'll never see or hear it.
CNN decided they wanted to make Senator Obama's supporters look more capable than Senator Clinton's. To make their point they took advantage of a whole state full of good people and made all of us look ignorant and racist. If that's the way they want to do business we're forced to wonder what else they've distorted along the way.
Yesterday was also Oregon's primary election day. Well, sorta. Out there you mail your ballot in or drop it off with the clerk. Yesterday was the deadline. Senator Obama won that race, and according to CNN's expert talkers, it is because the people in Oregon are smarter, wealthier and more open minded than the backwoods hicks in Kentucky. Not only do the folks at CNN believe it, they repeated it over and over and over again all night last night and again this morning.
I work at the state capitol. The CNN Express bus has been parked out in front of this beautiful building for a week now. They've been doing live reports and using our capitol dome as the backdrop. They've had plenty of time to get acquainted with some of the fine people who live and work in this artsy, educated town. But they didn't bother to get to know anyone while they were here.
Instead, on election day the CNN crew loaded up and travelled at least three hours into one of the most remote and impoverished areas of our state to ask those folks who they voted for or why they didn't vote at all. So, instead of seeing one of our many well spoken and pleasantly presented citizens on national television explaining why they intelligently decided to cast their vote the way they did, we saw a well intentioned but very stereotypical mountain lady telling a camera that "a woman's place is in the home and I ain't about to vote for no black man."
The people who live in rural Kentucky are good, decent people. They shouldn't be ignored and we shouldn't pretend they don't exist. Their voice is as important as anyone else's. But the portrait of Kentucky that CNN is trying to paint is simply not accurate. When there were tens of thousands of reasonable, articulate people to talk to about something as important as the presidential election, they went out of their way to find and air footage of their version of a hillbilly. Then the reporter went on to describe Kentucky as an uneducated, poor, backwoods, bigoted state. When it was tossed back to the studio the "experts" there continued their insults. I was offended.
I've been around politics and the media long enough to understand that the news agencies tell you what they want you to know. They often have information or facts that may change the texture or direction of a story. But if it doesn't serve their purpose or advance their agenda you'll never see or hear it.
CNN decided they wanted to make Senator Obama's supporters look more capable than Senator Clinton's. To make their point they took advantage of a whole state full of good people and made all of us look ignorant and racist. If that's the way they want to do business we're forced to wonder what else they've distorted along the way.
5.19.2008
who doesn't love dottie?
...After the memorial service, I had a chance to hang out with some friends who I hadn't seen in a while - and a few new ones. It's always fun to sit around and catch up on everybody's life and drama. So many of us are scattered across the country, it was inevitable that someone would mention that we only gather like this for a funeral.
Everyone had a Dottie story or two or three or more to tell. Sitting there listening, I think it dawned on all of us at different points that even though we all thought we were Dottie's best friend, she was just good at making everyone feel that way. Dottie loved everyone - without exception.
Proof: As I sat in the choir loft with the rest of the Homecoming singers, I looked across the congregation that had filled the big Christ Church auditorium for Dottie's goodbye party. The variety of people in those pews was about as diverse as you'd ever see in a place like this.
Just about every kind of Christian theology and understanding of biblical thought you could imagine must've been represented there - not just in the seats, but on the platform.
Most of the congregation was white, but African-Americans and Asians and Central-Americans and several others were scattered throughout the room as well. Big time celebrities shared pews with everyday Janes and Joes. I saw some very conservative Pentecostals and Baptists sitting among the gay men and women who came to show love to their friend one last time. Bluejeans and suits with ties and pretty dresses and t-shirts and priestly collars were everywhere.
No one seemed to be offended that the other was there. These were people who loved the person and the music of Dottie Rambo. Every single one of them was attracted to her songs of Home and the way to get there. And because she didn't see the need to make the message or its audience exclusive, it made for a very eclectic congregation of very unlikely worshippers on this day.
The hands that went up into the air off and on all afternoon were attached to hearts that just wanted to honor God - without a label or a designation or a notion. That's the way Dottie saw it, and preached it. And that's why we were all there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Larry Ferguson and Ronnie Meadows and Chris Barnes are still in various places of recovery. I don't know if very many minutes go by that I don't think of these guys and their families. So, when I think of them I pray for them. Their issues will not end when their bodies are whole. They will have other difficulties to face in the weeks and months to come.
Everyone had a Dottie story or two or three or more to tell. Sitting there listening, I think it dawned on all of us at different points that even though we all thought we were Dottie's best friend, she was just good at making everyone feel that way. Dottie loved everyone - without exception.
Proof: As I sat in the choir loft with the rest of the Homecoming singers, I looked across the congregation that had filled the big Christ Church auditorium for Dottie's goodbye party. The variety of people in those pews was about as diverse as you'd ever see in a place like this.
Just about every kind of Christian theology and understanding of biblical thought you could imagine must've been represented there - not just in the seats, but on the platform.
Most of the congregation was white, but African-Americans and Asians and Central-Americans and several others were scattered throughout the room as well. Big time celebrities shared pews with everyday Janes and Joes. I saw some very conservative Pentecostals and Baptists sitting among the gay men and women who came to show love to their friend one last time. Bluejeans and suits with ties and pretty dresses and t-shirts and priestly collars were everywhere.
No one seemed to be offended that the other was there. These were people who loved the person and the music of Dottie Rambo. Every single one of them was attracted to her songs of Home and the way to get there. And because she didn't see the need to make the message or its audience exclusive, it made for a very eclectic congregation of very unlikely worshippers on this day.
The hands that went up into the air off and on all afternoon were attached to hearts that just wanted to honor God - without a label or a designation or a notion. That's the way Dottie saw it, and preached it. And that's why we were all there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Larry Ferguson and Ronnie Meadows and Chris Barnes are still in various places of recovery. I don't know if very many minutes go by that I don't think of these guys and their families. So, when I think of them I pray for them. Their issues will not end when their bodies are whole. They will have other difficulties to face in the weeks and months to come.
5.13.2008
greg
Some people just come across as rock solid and sure. They are confident, reliable and steady. I have a few friends like that, but the one that seems to exhibit the really admirable traits most is Greg. (Although a really good guy, this is a different Greg than the one I mentioned about a month ago.)
I like to watch people. Their reactions (or over reactions), their sense of what's appropriate or expected, their ability to make the best of an awkward moment, all of those things reveal a lot about their inner confidence and fortitude. Greg is the type of quiet that doesn't make a lot of noise, but you don't forget he's in the room. I like that.
A couple of years ago several of us took a trip to San Francisco. Greg was there, and it was then that I first noticed his skill of making his point without belaboring it. He's fun to be around and makes for very pleasant conversation.
He's celebrating his birthday today, and if I know him well enough he won't make a big deal out of it. Nonetheless, happy birthday Greg!!
I like to watch people. Their reactions (or over reactions), their sense of what's appropriate or expected, their ability to make the best of an awkward moment, all of those things reveal a lot about their inner confidence and fortitude. Greg is the type of quiet that doesn't make a lot of noise, but you don't forget he's in the room. I like that.
A couple of years ago several of us took a trip to San Francisco. Greg was there, and it was then that I first noticed his skill of making his point without belaboring it. He's fun to be around and makes for very pleasant conversation.
He's celebrating his birthday today, and if I know him well enough he won't make a big deal out of it. Nonetheless, happy birthday Greg!!
5.11.2008
mom & miss dottie
Most everyone I know loves their mother. I do. A lot of folks have heard me talk about her strength and love and faith and patience and will. She probably has no idea how much she's taught me about dealing properly with life's sudden moments. I've heard it said that a person's character is most honestly revealed in the most intense times of trial and disappointment. Shirley Bishop has proven over and over and over again that she is a lady of remarkable integrity and stamina. I hope it followed the gene pool.
The weather has been gloomy in central Kentucky today. The rain has been constant and the mood has been low. Except for spending most of the morning and part of the afternoon with Mom and Dad, I've felt sad today. The weather is only partly responsible. Like a lot of others, I got the call early this morning that one of my life's heroes was unexpectedly taken home. When I wasn't distracted with enjoyable conversation with my parents my mind was consumed by the loss of my friend Dottie Rambo.
I became an admirer when I was very young. Watching the Singing Rambos on television and sitting for hours listening to those Heartwarming Records with the rich, flip-flopping harmonies of the dad, mom and daughter trio are beautiful memories for me. Granny Bishop especially enjoyed their songs. Dottie wrote nearly all of them. Early on her hair was piled high on her head. She smiled when she sang. I often smiled back without even meaning to. Sometimes she spoke her lyrics to emphasize the message more than than the melody. Dottie might be offended when I use the word magic to recall her ability to communicate, but that is a more than accurate way to describe the way she penetrated my senses. When someone asks if I prefer writing or singing, I usually tell them that I believe songs live longer than singers. Dottie has proven this now hundreds and hundreds of times over.
When I was a youngster I had no idea Dottie was a Kentucky girl. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. My sense of pride in my home state has developed with my knowledge of it. Now that I know, and now that it matters, I can't think of anyone else who writes, sings, performs or serves that I'd be any more proud to share my state's heritage with. Along with a million others I'll miss her. But only for a while.
The weather has been gloomy in central Kentucky today. The rain has been constant and the mood has been low. Except for spending most of the morning and part of the afternoon with Mom and Dad, I've felt sad today. The weather is only partly responsible. Like a lot of others, I got the call early this morning that one of my life's heroes was unexpectedly taken home. When I wasn't distracted with enjoyable conversation with my parents my mind was consumed by the loss of my friend Dottie Rambo.
I became an admirer when I was very young. Watching the Singing Rambos on television and sitting for hours listening to those Heartwarming Records with the rich, flip-flopping harmonies of the dad, mom and daughter trio are beautiful memories for me. Granny Bishop especially enjoyed their songs. Dottie wrote nearly all of them. Early on her hair was piled high on her head. She smiled when she sang. I often smiled back without even meaning to. Sometimes she spoke her lyrics to emphasize the message more than than the melody. Dottie might be offended when I use the word magic to recall her ability to communicate, but that is a more than accurate way to describe the way she penetrated my senses. When someone asks if I prefer writing or singing, I usually tell them that I believe songs live longer than singers. Dottie has proven this now hundreds and hundreds of times over.
When I was a youngster I had no idea Dottie was a Kentucky girl. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. My sense of pride in my home state has developed with my knowledge of it. Now that I know, and now that it matters, I can't think of anyone else who writes, sings, performs or serves that I'd be any more proud to share my state's heritage with. Along with a million others I'll miss her. But only for a while.
5.04.2008
mark & stan
I don't know how long a woman should wait before having her next child, but my momma didn't waste any time. Eleven months and four days after my older brother Mark was born I became Bishop boy number two.
For twenty-seven days every year Mark and I are twins. Between April 8th, my birthday, and May 4th, his birthday we are the same age. When we were younger that seemed like a big deal. As of today, he's officially one year older than me.
I'm so proud of my older brother. He's faced a lot of tough stuff and had to make some tough decisions, but he's done well for himself and succeeded. He's a tremendously talented song writer and singer and communicator. He used to make fun of me when we were younger saying that singing was for sissies. He's no sissy, but he sure is a good singer.
Happy birthday brother!!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Someone else special is celebrating his birthday today. Stan is an incredibly close friend. Most folks know him for his skill and abilities on the piano. Nowadays he travels around with Mark Lowry showing the world his gift of musical magnificence.
He lives in Atlanta, but a couple of years ago Stan was able to celebrate his birthday here in Kentucky - at the Kentucky Derby no less. What a way to enjoy your special day. I was thrilled to be able to host him.
A lot of people know him as a talented artist. I know him as an incredibly close friend who I count it an honor to have in my life.
Happy birthday my friend Stan!!
For twenty-seven days every year Mark and I are twins. Between April 8th, my birthday, and May 4th, his birthday we are the same age. When we were younger that seemed like a big deal. As of today, he's officially one year older than me.
I'm so proud of my older brother. He's faced a lot of tough stuff and had to make some tough decisions, but he's done well for himself and succeeded. He's a tremendously talented song writer and singer and communicator. He used to make fun of me when we were younger saying that singing was for sissies. He's no sissy, but he sure is a good singer.
Happy birthday brother!!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Someone else special is celebrating his birthday today. Stan is an incredibly close friend. Most folks know him for his skill and abilities on the piano. Nowadays he travels around with Mark Lowry showing the world his gift of musical magnificence.
He lives in Atlanta, but a couple of years ago Stan was able to celebrate his birthday here in Kentucky - at the Kentucky Derby no less. What a way to enjoy your special day. I was thrilled to be able to host him.
A lot of people know him as a talented artist. I know him as an incredibly close friend who I count it an honor to have in my life.
Happy birthday my friend Stan!!
5.03.2008
kat
In my capacity as a manager or an executive I've tried to abide by a hard and fast rule when it comes to hiring. I never hire anyone I cannot fire. That means I don't hire family or friends or relatives of friends or friends of relatives, or friends or relatives of my boss. This limits the field some, and it may mean the best person for the job won't get it because of their connections, but the consequences could be ugly otherwise.
So what do you do when you hire someone and they become like one of your best friends? Several years ago when I was looking for an assistant I scheduled an interview with an intelligent and attractive young lady from Louisville. We met, talked and clicked. Her skills were exactly what we needed. She was able to learn quickly what she didn't already know. She was willing to work the ungodly hours that were required and she was just super pleasant to be around. So Katherine got the job.
I've heard it said, and I've repeated it several times, that the best, most lasting friendships are the ones formed in the trenches. The work Kat and I were doing was sometimes like trench warfare. Ours is a soldier's bond.
I don't know if anyone ever called her Kat before, but that was the name I gave her and before long most everyone else was using it too. Our offices were close enough to the other that usually all I had to do was call her name and she was ready to take on a task.
I don't interview people for the position of friend. Those relationships just happen. You click with some people. You don't with others. The ones who become close friends were meant to be. The others are good acquaintances.
Kat and I have both moved on to other things now. She's successful and planning to marry this summer. I'm as happy for her as any big brother would be. I couldn't hire her today. She's too good a friend, and way too much like family.
Today is her birthday. It is also Derby Day which is a big deal here in Kentucky. It's a day fit for royalty which fits my former assistant very well. Happy birthday Kat!! Lotsoluv!!
So what do you do when you hire someone and they become like one of your best friends? Several years ago when I was looking for an assistant I scheduled an interview with an intelligent and attractive young lady from Louisville. We met, talked and clicked. Her skills were exactly what we needed. She was able to learn quickly what she didn't already know. She was willing to work the ungodly hours that were required and she was just super pleasant to be around. So Katherine got the job.
I've heard it said, and I've repeated it several times, that the best, most lasting friendships are the ones formed in the trenches. The work Kat and I were doing was sometimes like trench warfare. Ours is a soldier's bond.
I don't know if anyone ever called her Kat before, but that was the name I gave her and before long most everyone else was using it too. Our offices were close enough to the other that usually all I had to do was call her name and she was ready to take on a task.
I don't interview people for the position of friend. Those relationships just happen. You click with some people. You don't with others. The ones who become close friends were meant to be. The others are good acquaintances.
Kat and I have both moved on to other things now. She's successful and planning to marry this summer. I'm as happy for her as any big brother would be. I couldn't hire her today. She's too good a friend, and way too much like family.
Today is her birthday. It is also Derby Day which is a big deal here in Kentucky. It's a day fit for royalty which fits my former assistant very well. Happy birthday Kat!! Lotsoluv!!
4.27.2008
nary a word...
Several weeks ago my son Christian and I were watching a Blue Man Group concert on TV. I'm not sure if he'd ever seen them before, and I'd never seen them do a full show before. We were both pretty captivated by what we were watching. In a weird bit of coincidence I saw on the news the very next morning that they were coming to Lexington in just a few weeks. Knowing it would excite the both of us, I made plans and got the tix.
In case you are not familiar with Blue Man Group, this is not your typical pop or rock or techno band. I don't know if they've ever had a song at the top of the charts. I know I don't hear them on the radio along with all the other big names. Their music is different in a lot of ways. The "front line" is made up of three "bald" guys in black jumpsuits. Their hands and face and neck and head are all a very deep and penetrating blue. (It's hard to picture I know.)
On the stage they are backed up by a band and singers. The blue men play instruments that are as hard to describe as their looks. Basically they've connected several dozen pipes (looks like pvc pipe) of varying lengths and widths that are sized to play different notes. They hit the pipes with huge mallets to create an almost techno sound. They have several other odd instruments that they play too. At a couple of points in the show the stage lights go down and they beat the tops of barrel drums that are filled with a fluorescent liquid. When they play them it splatters everywhere, including in the audience.
Even with all of that going on, I think the thing that fascinated me most about the whole spectacle was that these three blue men who looked almost identical were able to leave the thousands in the audience with a sense of individual personality without saying a single word - not one single word. Yet we knew which was the mischievous one, which was the responsible one and which was the instigator.
It's true. Sometimes actions do speak louder than words, and drums.
In case you are not familiar with Blue Man Group, this is not your typical pop or rock or techno band. I don't know if they've ever had a song at the top of the charts. I know I don't hear them on the radio along with all the other big names. Their music is different in a lot of ways. The "front line" is made up of three "bald" guys in black jumpsuits. Their hands and face and neck and head are all a very deep and penetrating blue. (It's hard to picture I know.)
On the stage they are backed up by a band and singers. The blue men play instruments that are as hard to describe as their looks. Basically they've connected several dozen pipes (looks like pvc pipe) of varying lengths and widths that are sized to play different notes. They hit the pipes with huge mallets to create an almost techno sound. They have several other odd instruments that they play too. At a couple of points in the show the stage lights go down and they beat the tops of barrel drums that are filled with a fluorescent liquid. When they play them it splatters everywhere, including in the audience.
Even with all of that going on, I think the thing that fascinated me most about the whole spectacle was that these three blue men who looked almost identical were able to leave the thousands in the audience with a sense of individual personality without saying a single word - not one single word. Yet we knew which was the mischievous one, which was the responsible one and which was the instigator.
It's true. Sometimes actions do speak louder than words, and drums.
4.23.2008
this one's for the birds.
I've been waking up to singing here lately, and the music has been absolutely gorgeous - just like the mornings. Spring has settled into central Kentucky. We lost most of our pretty time last year because of a late frost, but this year the buds turned bloom are looking fresh and colorful. So yeah, we're doing much better this year. The birds seem especially happy these days. They're tuned, perched and making beautiful music by the time I roll out of my own little nest. It's a good, good way to start a day.
I don't think I'm naive enough to believe that everyone is having my kind of morning. Of course, I don't want to mislead you either. I don't bounce out of bed with a cheerful glow every morning. As spiritual as I'd like to think I am, sometimes my earliest thoughts aren't always my best witness. I'm blessed though and I know it.
The other day I told a friend that I've been making myself wait til the very last possible moment to buy gas. It makes me angry to have to fill out a loan application every time I fill up. The longer the pump runs, the worse my credit-rating gets. It's too bad I let it get to me the way it does. On days when everything else is fine and dandy, I get that roller-coaster feeling in my belly when I know I'm gonna have to pony up and pay out. As the numbers turn to a blur I start running through my incidentals to figure out what can go. If I'm going to drive I'm going to have to give up something.
There's no good reason to feel sorry for myself. Three paragraphs ago I was thrilled with my morning serenade. Keeping me and my stuff in proper perspective reminds me that I'm doing well. Things are good for me - not perfect, but good. The birds don't stop singing when I start pumping.
I don't think I'm naive enough to believe that everyone is having my kind of morning. Of course, I don't want to mislead you either. I don't bounce out of bed with a cheerful glow every morning. As spiritual as I'd like to think I am, sometimes my earliest thoughts aren't always my best witness. I'm blessed though and I know it.
The other day I told a friend that I've been making myself wait til the very last possible moment to buy gas. It makes me angry to have to fill out a loan application every time I fill up. The longer the pump runs, the worse my credit-rating gets. It's too bad I let it get to me the way it does. On days when everything else is fine and dandy, I get that roller-coaster feeling in my belly when I know I'm gonna have to pony up and pay out. As the numbers turn to a blur I start running through my incidentals to figure out what can go. If I'm going to drive I'm going to have to give up something.
There's no good reason to feel sorry for myself. Three paragraphs ago I was thrilled with my morning serenade. Keeping me and my stuff in proper perspective reminds me that I'm doing well. Things are good for me - not perfect, but good. The birds don't stop singing when I start pumping.
4.08.2008
what to do...
I have an uncle who, as far as I know, has never gone to work on his birthday. He always takes the day off. I have a friend who always pampers himself on his birthday. He'll get a massage and the works. The day is all his and he enjoys it. I say good for him.
I'm not really big into my birthday. But I was thinking last week about what I should do if I did decide to mark the day this year. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me to take the day off. I'd just work at home if I did. Since the big day is on a Tuesday this year there's not a lot going on as far as plays or concerts. Maybe I'll just treat today like every other and see if anything happens naturally. I know I can count on calls from my parents and my kids. Several friends will send text messages and emails. Most of my co-workers don't even know it's my day, so I don't expect a lot from them. I know my cousin Janice will call and my sweet friend Loretta will send a card. You just know some things.
Greg, Justin and I share a birthday week, so our friends threw us a big party this past weekend. It was fun and probably sufficient as far as celebrating goes. But who knows? Birthdays are about surprises...
I'm not really big into my birthday. But I was thinking last week about what I should do if I did decide to mark the day this year. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me to take the day off. I'd just work at home if I did. Since the big day is on a Tuesday this year there's not a lot going on as far as plays or concerts. Maybe I'll just treat today like every other and see if anything happens naturally. I know I can count on calls from my parents and my kids. Several friends will send text messages and emails. Most of my co-workers don't even know it's my day, so I don't expect a lot from them. I know my cousin Janice will call and my sweet friend Loretta will send a card. You just know some things.
Greg, Justin and I share a birthday week, so our friends threw us a big party this past weekend. It was fun and probably sufficient as far as celebrating goes. But who knows? Birthdays are about surprises...
4.07.2008
the week from heaven
This will be a special week for me. I'll get to spend some extra time with my son of 14 years. He's on spring break. Being divorced is akin to hell. That's an exaggeration, but more than anything else, I miss being able to walk down the hall anytime I want and looking in on my kids as they sleep. Sometimes I miss them so bad all I can do is lay in my bed and cry. When he is at my house for the night or for a few days I often crack Christian's bedroom door open and watch him sleep for a minute or two. Anything more than that would be creepy.
This week will be fun. We'll pass the baseball, maybe ride the bike. I'll watch him play video games. We'll listen to music. We may go see a movie or two or go to a baseball game. Sometimes we don't do anything special at all. But we feel good knowing the other is so close. I'm happiest when I know he is within earshot.
This will be a good week. Like a week from heaven.
This week will be fun. We'll pass the baseball, maybe ride the bike. I'll watch him play video games. We'll listen to music. We may go see a movie or two or go to a baseball game. Sometimes we don't do anything special at all. But we feel good knowing the other is so close. I'm happiest when I know he is within earshot.
This will be a good week. Like a week from heaven.
4.06.2008
greg
I've heard enough memorials about giving and generous people to know that there are some people in the world these days who'd give you their last morsel of food if you asked for it. They are servants. They receive great joy in seeing that others are cared for and happy. I have a friend like that. His name is Greg.
Some friends are just extra special. Sometimes you make a connection with someone that isn't easily described with words. Greg is one of my confidants. He and I share our struggles and our concerns and our quirks and our frustrations with each other. I don't know what it was that made us first trust each other this way, but sometimes you just feel a bond that creates the freedom to confide in each other knowing that it is as important to keep as it is to share.
Maybe the closeness is partly because our birthdays are so close. Today is his. I want it to be memorable and happy and special for him.
Happy birthday Gregory!!
Some friends are just extra special. Sometimes you make a connection with someone that isn't easily described with words. Greg is one of my confidants. He and I share our struggles and our concerns and our quirks and our frustrations with each other. I don't know what it was that made us first trust each other this way, but sometimes you just feel a bond that creates the freedom to confide in each other knowing that it is as important to keep as it is to share.
Maybe the closeness is partly because our birthdays are so close. Today is his. I want it to be memorable and happy and special for him.
Happy birthday Gregory!!
4.01.2008
april f**l's day
Did anyone else get in trouble as a kid for calling someone a fool? We weren't allowed to use the word in our house. It was like a cuss word. If I remember right, I think we were told if we called someone a fool we would go to hell. So me and my brothers always felt the need to reserve such language for very special, angry occasions. We didn't know it then, but that's exactly the use of the word that Jesus condemned.
Being a church brat and hearing so many preachers use words that we good Christian kids weren't allowed to seemed a bit hypocritical to me. Of course, I had no idea what a hypocrite was back then. All I knew was that preachers must've had some sort of deal worked out with God to be able to say words like ass and hell and damn and fool - and in the pulpit no less. When I was really young I could be daydreaming about Scooby Doo in outer space and hear a word like that pop out of a preacher's mouth and he'd have me back in rapt attention until something else distracted me. Maybe that was his point. When I got a little older all of us pre-teens would sit in the back of the church and snicker and poke when the preacher would cuss. When I'd ask about it most adults would just say it's how you use the word that makes the difference. I was never allowed to use the words regardless of how I justified it.
Although I still don't call anyone a fool, I think I've gotten over saying the word. When it's used in the bible it's usually referring to someones stubborn stupidity. I know a few people who qualify, but I still won't say it. I don't want to go to hell.
All that being said. Happy April Fool's Day! (Forgive me Lord.)
Being a church brat and hearing so many preachers use words that we good Christian kids weren't allowed to seemed a bit hypocritical to me. Of course, I had no idea what a hypocrite was back then. All I knew was that preachers must've had some sort of deal worked out with God to be able to say words like ass and hell and damn and fool - and in the pulpit no less. When I was really young I could be daydreaming about Scooby Doo in outer space and hear a word like that pop out of a preacher's mouth and he'd have me back in rapt attention until something else distracted me. Maybe that was his point. When I got a little older all of us pre-teens would sit in the back of the church and snicker and poke when the preacher would cuss. When I'd ask about it most adults would just say it's how you use the word that makes the difference. I was never allowed to use the words regardless of how I justified it.
Although I still don't call anyone a fool, I think I've gotten over saying the word. When it's used in the bible it's usually referring to someones stubborn stupidity. I know a few people who qualify, but I still won't say it. I don't want to go to hell.
All that being said. Happy April Fool's Day! (Forgive me Lord.)
3.29.2008
feeding people
I sang last night in Campton, Kentucky. I remember being there years ago when our family first started singing. We sang in a really small church that was packed as tight as possible. The church I sang in last night brought those memories back.
The occasion for the event was a food bank that distributes food to hundreds of families in that area of the state. There is too much poverty in the region, and some folks won't eat at all if this supply is not kept up. I felt the need very worthy of the effort.
When I was singing professionally it wasn't always easy to do things like this. As much as we wanted to, and as much as it really, really did hurt us to have to say no from time to time, it was impossible for the Bishops to sing for every charity and do every fundraiser that was requested of us. There were often contractual elements that prevented it. More often than not, it was just a matter of available time. We could've sung every day and night of the month if we'd accepted every invitation to sing at some sort of benefit.
These days I'm in a better position to help when I can. Not depending on the music to make ends meet, I'm able to say yes to very worthy charities that many professional singers cannot. The pros are not bad people. They are not greedy. They are not "just in it for the money." They are wise keepers of their gifts and sensitive members of their families. They are using Godly judgement.
Everyone I know who makes music for a living is always more than willing to do what they can to help when they can. They are always ready to help those in need. But their first obligation is to feed their own families. And when it comes to others, they love feeding people.
The occasion for the event was a food bank that distributes food to hundreds of families in that area of the state. There is too much poverty in the region, and some folks won't eat at all if this supply is not kept up. I felt the need very worthy of the effort.
When I was singing professionally it wasn't always easy to do things like this. As much as we wanted to, and as much as it really, really did hurt us to have to say no from time to time, it was impossible for the Bishops to sing for every charity and do every fundraiser that was requested of us. There were often contractual elements that prevented it. More often than not, it was just a matter of available time. We could've sung every day and night of the month if we'd accepted every invitation to sing at some sort of benefit.
These days I'm in a better position to help when I can. Not depending on the music to make ends meet, I'm able to say yes to very worthy charities that many professional singers cannot. The pros are not bad people. They are not greedy. They are not "just in it for the money." They are wise keepers of their gifts and sensitive members of their families. They are using Godly judgement.
Everyone I know who makes music for a living is always more than willing to do what they can to help when they can. They are always ready to help those in need. But their first obligation is to feed their own families. And when it comes to others, they love feeding people.
3.26.2008
jamie
Sometimes you just meet someone who strikes you as fun and happy all the time. Of course, most all of us know how to turn on the charm. But Jamie is a contagious charmer. That only comes naturally.
I'd seen him around here and there, but the first time I remember getting to visit and know Jamie well was at a Shakespeare in the Park play we both happened to be at. The event is one of my favorites. Friends join up and everyone brings a blanket and a cooler and some food, usually cheeses and crackers and fruits, and enjoys good company and a great play.
I didn't know that someone in our group had invited him, but by the time the play was over I was thinking that Jamie was a great guy. His wit and his laugh are fun. When it's time to take the moment seriously he knows how to properly treat it. Most people with a quick wit never figure that out. Jamie has.
He lives in Nashville these days, so I should be hearing the laughter from down that way soon. Today is his birthday. Somebody down there throw him a blowout party. He really deserves it.
Happy birthday Jamie!!
I'd seen him around here and there, but the first time I remember getting to visit and know Jamie well was at a Shakespeare in the Park play we both happened to be at. The event is one of my favorites. Friends join up and everyone brings a blanket and a cooler and some food, usually cheeses and crackers and fruits, and enjoys good company and a great play.
I didn't know that someone in our group had invited him, but by the time the play was over I was thinking that Jamie was a great guy. His wit and his laugh are fun. When it's time to take the moment seriously he knows how to properly treat it. Most people with a quick wit never figure that out. Jamie has.
He lives in Nashville these days, so I should be hearing the laughter from down that way soon. Today is his birthday. Somebody down there throw him a blowout party. He really deserves it.
Happy birthday Jamie!!
3.23.2008
big kenneth or little kenneth?
I'm asked all the time if I'm a junior. I'm named after my dad but I'm not a junior. I think the rules say that the oldest son is the only child qualified to use the suffix. I don't know where I heard that, but it's been my excuse since I got the word. My brother Mark is the oldest of Kenneth Bishop's sons.
These days everyone calls me Kenny. Except, from time to time I'll run into someone who calls me Kenneth. When they do I know we go way, way back. When I started elementary school my teachers called me by my formal name. I didn't know we were allowed to tell them otherwise. All of my family, all of my friends at home, everyone at church and in the neighborhood called me Kenny. But at Waco Elementary School my name was Kenneth. With a fresh start in middle school I asked my teachers and new friends to call me Kenny instead. Up until then, when someone would call our house and ask for me or my dad we'd always have to ask, "big Kenneth or little Kenneth?"
Mr. Kenneth Bishop, my dad, is a remarkable man. When we were traveling and singing and making records and appearing on TV he never really seemed to be enamored by all of the attention. When others were talking about the honor of appearing on a certain stage or on a particular show he was bragging on his family or his church. Of course he was humbled by the opportunities that he'd say a simple, country boy usually doesn't enjoy. But the notoriety never seemed to amount to a lot to him.
Having his name is a huge honor. It's a lot to live up to. My dad is a pure heart. He sees many things in a black-and-white kind of way that I can't seem to. He has settled issues that I still grapple with. I admire that in a way. Today is his birthday and I hope the day is worthy of the claim.
Happy birthday Dad!!
These days everyone calls me Kenny. Except, from time to time I'll run into someone who calls me Kenneth. When they do I know we go way, way back. When I started elementary school my teachers called me by my formal name. I didn't know we were allowed to tell them otherwise. All of my family, all of my friends at home, everyone at church and in the neighborhood called me Kenny. But at Waco Elementary School my name was Kenneth. With a fresh start in middle school I asked my teachers and new friends to call me Kenny instead. Up until then, when someone would call our house and ask for me or my dad we'd always have to ask, "big Kenneth or little Kenneth?"
Mr. Kenneth Bishop, my dad, is a remarkable man. When we were traveling and singing and making records and appearing on TV he never really seemed to be enamored by all of the attention. When others were talking about the honor of appearing on a certain stage or on a particular show he was bragging on his family or his church. Of course he was humbled by the opportunities that he'd say a simple, country boy usually doesn't enjoy. But the notoriety never seemed to amount to a lot to him.
Having his name is a huge honor. It's a lot to live up to. My dad is a pure heart. He sees many things in a black-and-white kind of way that I can't seem to. He has settled issues that I still grapple with. I admire that in a way. Today is his birthday and I hope the day is worthy of the claim.
Happy birthday Dad!!
death defying...
When I was a kid I was a HUGE Evel Knievel fan. I had his lunch box and his three ring binder and models of his motorcycle and lots of other EK stuff. I used to build little ramps with boards and bricks, tie a towel around my neck and pretend I was the man himself. I'd peddle my bike as fast as I could, spitting motorcycle sounds while I jumped over every little Hot Wheels car I could find. I lined 'em up like school buses 'cause that's what Evel used to jump.
The Christmas I got the Evel Knievel T-string pull toy was awesome! You'd feed that plastic "key" down the narrow slot, then pull it as hard as you could then throw it to the ground. That thing would take off and fly like the wind for about ten seconds. What a rush!! Then I got the Evel Knievel crank toy. This was the ultimate in EK excitement and worlds above anything I'd ever had before. You'd set the bike in the cradle, with the Evel doll gripping the handlebars of course. Then you'd crank the handle as hard and fast as you could before pulling the trigger and watching the doll fly off the seat. I loved it!!!
Evel was called lots of things. Most people called him crazy. Besides the buses, he jumped lots of other stuff, including the Snake River Canyon. His first "big" jump was over a box of rattlesnakes and mountain lions. Not all of his jumps were successful. He never made it to the other side of the big hole in the earth, and he barely missed the venom and the claws. Some called him the death defyer. He'd cheated death on more than a couple of dozen occasions. He barely survived several of his biggest feats, but always made his way back to eventually jump again.
You can't do something like that forever though. Back in November of 2007 it was cancer that caught up with the man who'd been so close so many times. Evel is finished jumping things now. It's hard to call him a death defyer anymore.
Today is a celebration of the real and ultimate defyer of dying. I'll bet that in his day there were more than a few folks who thought the outspoken rebel who worked on sabbath days and touched forbidden things and ate with skank was close to being finished a time or two himself. You didn't ignore the law and disregard tradition and established religion in times like those then live to tell about it. So they killed him. For making crazy claims, loving people more than rules and bucking the same-old-same-old they killed him.
His ideas didn't seem so crazy though when the final word was said. All those ridiculous claims had sudden merit when what they were sure was the final solution was over ruled. He claimed he could beat it, but they obviously didn't believe him. Who can outlive death?
Evel made a lot of claims in his career. He knew he'd eventually stop breathing and die. He became a Christian before he did, and as the once self-proclaimed death defyer, he knew he really wasn't, and he certainly knew he wasn't the original.
Happy Easter!
The Christmas I got the Evel Knievel T-string pull toy was awesome! You'd feed that plastic "key" down the narrow slot, then pull it as hard as you could then throw it to the ground. That thing would take off and fly like the wind for about ten seconds. What a rush!! Then I got the Evel Knievel crank toy. This was the ultimate in EK excitement and worlds above anything I'd ever had before. You'd set the bike in the cradle, with the Evel doll gripping the handlebars of course. Then you'd crank the handle as hard and fast as you could before pulling the trigger and watching the doll fly off the seat. I loved it!!!
Evel was called lots of things. Most people called him crazy. Besides the buses, he jumped lots of other stuff, including the Snake River Canyon. His first "big" jump was over a box of rattlesnakes and mountain lions. Not all of his jumps were successful. He never made it to the other side of the big hole in the earth, and he barely missed the venom and the claws. Some called him the death defyer. He'd cheated death on more than a couple of dozen occasions. He barely survived several of his biggest feats, but always made his way back to eventually jump again.
You can't do something like that forever though. Back in November of 2007 it was cancer that caught up with the man who'd been so close so many times. Evel is finished jumping things now. It's hard to call him a death defyer anymore.
Today is a celebration of the real and ultimate defyer of dying. I'll bet that in his day there were more than a few folks who thought the outspoken rebel who worked on sabbath days and touched forbidden things and ate with skank was close to being finished a time or two himself. You didn't ignore the law and disregard tradition and established religion in times like those then live to tell about it. So they killed him. For making crazy claims, loving people more than rules and bucking the same-old-same-old they killed him.
His ideas didn't seem so crazy though when the final word was said. All those ridiculous claims had sudden merit when what they were sure was the final solution was over ruled. He claimed he could beat it, but they obviously didn't believe him. Who can outlive death?
Evel made a lot of claims in his career. He knew he'd eventually stop breathing and die. He became a Christian before he did, and as the once self-proclaimed death defyer, he knew he really wasn't, and he certainly knew he wasn't the original.
Happy Easter!
3.11.2008
eric
My friend Eric is celebrating his birthday today. I like Eric. His thoughts are strong and he believes in them enough to state them and stand by them. I've never known him to intentionally offend anyone, but not everyone appreciates his way with words.
I like him because he allows me the courtesy I allow him. When we disagree with each other it's agreeable. He isn't put off when I'm not convinced of his stance on things. Neither does he belittle my position when I've given him every chance to. He's a good guy that way.
Eric and I have a lot in common. I enjoy spending time hanging out with him and chatting about the stuff of the world - politics and government and movies and music and lots of other stuff. We're both studied thinkers who gets the facts and forms opinions and talks about it. He deserves a really good and happy birthday today.
Happy birthday Eric!!
I like him because he allows me the courtesy I allow him. When we disagree with each other it's agreeable. He isn't put off when I'm not convinced of his stance on things. Neither does he belittle my position when I've given him every chance to. He's a good guy that way.
Eric and I have a lot in common. I enjoy spending time hanging out with him and chatting about the stuff of the world - politics and government and movies and music and lots of other stuff. We're both studied thinkers who gets the facts and forms opinions and talks about it. He deserves a really good and happy birthday today.
Happy birthday Eric!!
3.05.2008
mr. & mrs. bishop
Reverend Paul Arvin was a fresh and fiery Pentecostal preacher who pastored a small congregation in the mountains of east-central Kentucky. He was young, real young. His ministry was young. His family was young. And he was getting ready to perform his very first wedding ceremony. The young lovers had met in his church, and his ordination was just in time to make the proceedings legal.
On March 5, 1964 Kenneth Bishop sporting a dark suit jacket with a trendy tie, and Shirley Richardson adorned in a beautiful but simple dress were sealed in holy matrimony in the young preacher's house. Still in love, the wedding clothes have been hanging in the committed couple's closet for 44 years now.
The ceremony was very simple. I don't think there was any singing or music. There was a homemade cake though. A few family members were on hand and the kids of the house who were either oblivious to the event or just didn't care were jumping up and down on the furniture making all kinds of noise. The pictures I've seen of the occasion reveal a humble but happy day.
Forty four years is not a record. But it's certainly an admirable testament to a remarkable commitment that was made in very different, even uncertain times. Lots of marriages don't last. Mine didn't. Our reasons for giving up are mostly selfish. Sometimes the conditions leave no choice, but there are those couples that see current circumstances as reasons to bond and trust each other even more. They hang on, consider their partner more than themselves and make people like me so very, very proud to have their name.
Happy anniversary Mom and Dad!
On March 5, 1964 Kenneth Bishop sporting a dark suit jacket with a trendy tie, and Shirley Richardson adorned in a beautiful but simple dress were sealed in holy matrimony in the young preacher's house. Still in love, the wedding clothes have been hanging in the committed couple's closet for 44 years now.
The ceremony was very simple. I don't think there was any singing or music. There was a homemade cake though. A few family members were on hand and the kids of the house who were either oblivious to the event or just didn't care were jumping up and down on the furniture making all kinds of noise. The pictures I've seen of the occasion reveal a humble but happy day.
Forty four years is not a record. But it's certainly an admirable testament to a remarkable commitment that was made in very different, even uncertain times. Lots of marriages don't last. Mine didn't. Our reasons for giving up are mostly selfish. Sometimes the conditions leave no choice, but there are those couples that see current circumstances as reasons to bond and trust each other even more. They hang on, consider their partner more than themselves and make people like me so very, very proud to have their name.
Happy anniversary Mom and Dad!
3.02.2008
shirley has no middle name
I guess it's because I have a middle name that I thought everyone did. Back in the stylish days of the 1980s most everyone who wanted to be somewhat preppy was wearing one of those sweaters with their initials embroidered on the chest. The first letter was smaller and to the left. The middle initial was smaller to the right, and the last initial was bigger in the middle. I don't know who made the embroidered-on-your-chest-initial rules, but we all followed. It never occurred to me that it could be an issue if someone didn't have three names to pull from.
Sometimes the most obvious is the least or last noticed.
Today is my mom's birthday. I was in the mall the other day, and I passed one of those stores that engraves whatever you want on a piece of glass or silver or wood or pewter or wood or something. I don't ever remember seeing my mom's initials on anything around the house, so I thought something from this fine establishment would be a nice gift for such a beautiful person. That's when I first noticed the obvious. My mom has no middle name. Her name is Shirley Bishop. That's it.
Our family is very traditional in a lot of ways. When women in our part of the world get married most of them completely take their husband's last name. It sounds old-fashioned and maybe even a little sexist, but that is still a big tradition where we live. So using Mom's maiden name as her middle name is not kosher. (Now that's funny. I don't care who you are.) Besides, it wouldn't be fair to Dad. He doesn't have a middle name either.
Even if she doesn't have three initials she's not in the least bit incomplete. There's more to that woman's spirit and heart than a lot of people will get to know. I hope this is her best birthday yet.
Happy birthday Mom!!
Sometimes the most obvious is the least or last noticed.
Today is my mom's birthday. I was in the mall the other day, and I passed one of those stores that engraves whatever you want on a piece of glass or silver or wood or pewter or wood or something. I don't ever remember seeing my mom's initials on anything around the house, so I thought something from this fine establishment would be a nice gift for such a beautiful person. That's when I first noticed the obvious. My mom has no middle name. Her name is Shirley Bishop. That's it.
Our family is very traditional in a lot of ways. When women in our part of the world get married most of them completely take their husband's last name. It sounds old-fashioned and maybe even a little sexist, but that is still a big tradition where we live. So using Mom's maiden name as her middle name is not kosher. (Now that's funny. I don't care who you are.) Besides, it wouldn't be fair to Dad. He doesn't have a middle name either.
Even if she doesn't have three initials she's not in the least bit incomplete. There's more to that woman's spirit and heart than a lot of people will get to know. I hope this is her best birthday yet.
Happy birthday Mom!!
2.26.2008
i'm not sick...
I don't know why I get so nervous about my regular physical check up each year. The most painful part of the whole experience is the blood taking part. Stupid needles. It was a little embarrassing leaving a cup of pee in the bathroom, but I don't expect anyone who works in a doctor's office thinks much of it. The steth was not too cold. The doctors hands were gentle. His questions weren't demeaning. He had good news all the way around. He did refer me to a physical therapist after I told him I'd been waking up lately to a stiff neck and headaches. A few of those sessions and I'd be as good as a ?? year old can be.
Maybe seeing a new doctor makes me nervous. I've tried a couple of others in the last couple of years, but didn't feel very comfortable with them. Dr. Nesbitt came highly recommended, and my insurance lists him as one of their providers. I was in business. He made me feel at ease and now I think I've found my doctor. If I ever get sick I'll be ready.
Maybe seeing a new doctor makes me nervous. I've tried a couple of others in the last couple of years, but didn't feel very comfortable with them. Dr. Nesbitt came highly recommended, and my insurance lists him as one of their providers. I was in business. He made me feel at ease and now I think I've found my doctor. If I ever get sick I'll be ready.
2.25.2008
what will you give me for it?
Everything has its price. Scary isn't it? Surely there is something sacred, something so personally valuable to you that you wouldn't part with it for any amount of money. Surely there is something you'd never sell - regardless of the offer.
Give the experts at HGTV about ten minutes and someone will try and convince you that purchasing a home for investments sake is more important than buying a place to call home. We're encouraged to consider the idea of profits before we think about the memories or the comfort, usefulness or practicality of a family home. Seeing the place through the eyes of a potential buyer from the future is more important than picturing the kids playing in the yard or the family gathered around the table or yourself warming by the fireplace. According to the TV experts you should always consider the worth of a place to someone you've never met before personal value.
Want to see American greed on display in frustrating fashion? Watch a TV reality show. In a few minutes you'll likely catch a few fine examples. Donald Trump is offering boardroom jobs. Harry Mandel is giving away briefcases filled with loot. Eat a few bites of raw and rotten animal parts and you may get sick, but you'll recover to wealth and instant celebrity. You can cut a stranger's throat, rat out a friend, sleep with someone else's partner, dangle from a piece of yarn over a flaming pool of piranha infested acid and if you survive you'll probably be exhausted and scarred but at least you'll be wealthy. Your dignity and friends will be gone, but who needs either when you can live well? What's not for sale?
I'll admit that I do get into some reality TV. I don't usually watch the folks who play with the alligators or eat the raw giraffe privates. I got tired of watching the billionaire from the city argue with the already employed and successful job seekers. I do get a kick out of watching Howie's gorgeous models open the shiny cases though. It's a study in desire I think, and not just the pretty ladies.
Watching excited contestants who'd normally be thrilled beyond measure to be handed a couple a hundred thousand dollars gamble it away for the risky chance to walk away with a million can sadly be entertaining.
Tonight I saw TV greed at its worst. A young lady just admitted to a total stranger game show host and millions of Americans that she's got dirt on her dad that her mother knows nothing about. Spilling the beans earned her about ten thousand dollars. I don't advocate keeping dangerous secrets, but making Mom and Dad a commodity seems cheap to me. And that wasn't the worst of it. The overly bleached blond sat in the hot seat while the man in the suit asked her question after question that revealed her innermost thoughts and desires - all for a price. Without exception, every-single-question dug a hole so incrementally deep that her young husband of two years buried his head in his hands in disbelief. She admitted to all of us that she was secretly in love with a former boyfriend when she married her husband. Ka-ching! She confessed she'd leave her husband for a chance to get the old bf back. Ka-ching! She'd been having sex with other people since she got married. Ka-ching!
The network was paying this woman well for her wide open honesty, and she didn't seem to mind who was injured in the process. She was racking up the dollars while her family, and even the show's host sat in shocked amazement. But she was getting wealthy, and that's obviously what mattered most. She sold out her parents,her husband and her integrity. To her everything really does have its price.
In the end she lost the game and the money. We're left wondering what else she lost.
Give the experts at HGTV about ten minutes and someone will try and convince you that purchasing a home for investments sake is more important than buying a place to call home. We're encouraged to consider the idea of profits before we think about the memories or the comfort, usefulness or practicality of a family home. Seeing the place through the eyes of a potential buyer from the future is more important than picturing the kids playing in the yard or the family gathered around the table or yourself warming by the fireplace. According to the TV experts you should always consider the worth of a place to someone you've never met before personal value.
Want to see American greed on display in frustrating fashion? Watch a TV reality show. In a few minutes you'll likely catch a few fine examples. Donald Trump is offering boardroom jobs. Harry Mandel is giving away briefcases filled with loot. Eat a few bites of raw and rotten animal parts and you may get sick, but you'll recover to wealth and instant celebrity. You can cut a stranger's throat, rat out a friend, sleep with someone else's partner, dangle from a piece of yarn over a flaming pool of piranha infested acid and if you survive you'll probably be exhausted and scarred but at least you'll be wealthy. Your dignity and friends will be gone, but who needs either when you can live well? What's not for sale?
I'll admit that I do get into some reality TV. I don't usually watch the folks who play with the alligators or eat the raw giraffe privates. I got tired of watching the billionaire from the city argue with the already employed and successful job seekers. I do get a kick out of watching Howie's gorgeous models open the shiny cases though. It's a study in desire I think, and not just the pretty ladies.
Watching excited contestants who'd normally be thrilled beyond measure to be handed a couple a hundred thousand dollars gamble it away for the risky chance to walk away with a million can sadly be entertaining.
Tonight I saw TV greed at its worst. A young lady just admitted to a total stranger game show host and millions of Americans that she's got dirt on her dad that her mother knows nothing about. Spilling the beans earned her about ten thousand dollars. I don't advocate keeping dangerous secrets, but making Mom and Dad a commodity seems cheap to me. And that wasn't the worst of it. The overly bleached blond sat in the hot seat while the man in the suit asked her question after question that revealed her innermost thoughts and desires - all for a price. Without exception, every-single-question dug a hole so incrementally deep that her young husband of two years buried his head in his hands in disbelief. She admitted to all of us that she was secretly in love with a former boyfriend when she married her husband. Ka-ching! She confessed she'd leave her husband for a chance to get the old bf back. Ka-ching! She'd been having sex with other people since she got married. Ka-ching!
The network was paying this woman well for her wide open honesty, and she didn't seem to mind who was injured in the process. She was racking up the dollars while her family, and even the show's host sat in shocked amazement. But she was getting wealthy, and that's obviously what mattered most. She sold out her parents,her husband and her integrity. To her everything really does have its price.
In the end she lost the game and the money. We're left wondering what else she lost.
2.24.2008
i get to sing with justin!
I really enjoy spending time in the studio. It's easy for me to feel creative with the phones on my head and the super-sensitive mic in my face. I love it! I love it more when I'm able to work in the studio with friends. Justin Ryan is a wonderful, dynamic voice and a tremendously kind and sensitive Christian. He's been through a bit of hell and lots of grief in his still young life, and he continues to want to share the grace he's found. He has recorded a fantastic record with a lot of his singing friends. Most of them are famous. Then there's me. We've been in the studio today working on the two songs that I get to sing. What a blast! I wasn't about to turn down the opportunity to be on his record, so when he called I made sure to get it on the calendar. I'm glad I did. When you hear it you will be too.
back to the good stuff
Back when I was singing with my family one of my favorite places to sing was in southern Illinois. In particular, there was a weekend in February hosted by a group from the area called the Truthseekers. It's hard to put a finger on it, but there was always something very, very special about this event, but especially about these people. When the group retired and I hung up my microphone for so many years I didn't often miss the road, or singing. Except for this event.
I had the opportunity to relive the delight of the Truthseekers homecoming weekend just this past week. The event is as wonderful as I remembered it. The group is as kind and gracious and loving as they always were. I sang with some other artists, refreshed some out-of-touch friendships and made some great new friends. This is the part of singing I like most.
I had the opportunity to relive the delight of the Truthseekers homecoming weekend just this past week. The event is as wonderful as I remembered it. The group is as kind and gracious and loving as they always were. I sang with some other artists, refreshed some out-of-touch friendships and made some great new friends. This is the part of singing I like most.
2.14.2008
... exciting and new...
I loved watching The Love Boat on TV. I've heard that there is a remake in the works. I don't know how I'd like it now. I've been on enough and worked enough cruise ships to know that a lot of the glamour was made up. Back when the show was on television it was mostly the rich peeps who sailed exclusively. It made the show more fairly tail like. In a matter of a handful of days, people on the Love Boat would meet, court, get to know everything about each other, fall in love and get married - or at least get engaged. What a boat!!
I don't know anyone who has ever gone on a cruise, met the person of their dreams and fallen in love. If you have, happy Valentine's Day!
The rest of us want to play.
I don't know anyone who has ever gone on a cruise, met the person of their dreams and fallen in love. If you have, happy Valentine's Day!
The rest of us want to play.
2.12.2008
big abe doins
This is a big year for Abraham Lincoln. Actually, the next two will be a big deal, at least here in KY and the other states that claim him or at least a part of him. I don't know how many of the states plus territories attach themselves to some part of the Lincoln lore, but one of the things we know for sure is it all started right here in the Bluegrass state. The next two years will be a massive celebration with dignitaries, former presidents, celebrities and common folks as we mark our sixteenth president's two-hundredth birthday.
I think it would be cool if all of the former presidents had a holiday. I'd say some of them, if not most of them, don't deserve one. But knowing the political process the way I do, it was no small fete getting elected. That deserves some sort of special moment of pause. Besides, I'm sure America's retailers could find some way to use it for their own benefit.
But even if none of the others enjoyed the distinct honor of a day set aside to remember the from whences, Mr. Lincoln has earned the distinction. He's not our only national leader of valour, but the very, very, very difficult and deeply contra-personal decisions he had to make as head of a house divided deserve to be revered. I wouldn't want to be him, and for the life of me I can't figure out why he'd want to be who he was where he was when he was. Some people just see moments like that as their calling - their duty. Maybe that's what motivated him.
You have to wonder if he ever longed for the day when he'd retire from public service, leave the constant tumult of Washington, DC for a quieter, more peaceful life. If he did, I'll bet he was very pleasantly surprised.
I think it would be cool if all of the former presidents had a holiday. I'd say some of them, if not most of them, don't deserve one. But knowing the political process the way I do, it was no small fete getting elected. That deserves some sort of special moment of pause. Besides, I'm sure America's retailers could find some way to use it for their own benefit.
But even if none of the others enjoyed the distinct honor of a day set aside to remember the from whences, Mr. Lincoln has earned the distinction. He's not our only national leader of valour, but the very, very, very difficult and deeply contra-personal decisions he had to make as head of a house divided deserve to be revered. I wouldn't want to be him, and for the life of me I can't figure out why he'd want to be who he was where he was when he was. Some people just see moments like that as their calling - their duty. Maybe that's what motivated him.
You have to wonder if he ever longed for the day when he'd retire from public service, leave the constant tumult of Washington, DC for a quieter, more peaceful life. If he did, I'll bet he was very pleasantly surprised.
2.09.2008
going back...
Don't ask me how old I am. Actually, you don't have to. It's all over the Internet. Google my name (that tickles) and you can learn pretty much anything you want to know. I'll tell you this, I'm a proud child of the sixties. What a time it was! That's what they tell me anyway. I was way too young to remember anything about it. I've seen the pictures though and it looks like it was a lot of fun.
Being born in the LATE sixties means that music was written, played and sung so as to be an influence in my life. It was still entertainment to many, but just as many saw music as a way to get their message heard - and responded to. I remember a lot of it - 60s, 70s, 80s ...
My favorite was the 1980s. I was in and out of young love, my hormones were in control (I discovered new surprises everyday), and I emerged from that awkward place where the rest of my body hid the memo from my nose and ears. Up until the early to mid eighties a love song didn't mean much to me. When I finally had a pretty face to attach to it the song became "ours." I like the music of the 1980s.
My friends and I are throwing an eighties party tonight. We're calling it a $2 Prom. Everyone must come dressed in an outfit from the mid 1980s. If they have it in their closet (and who doesn't) they can wear it. If they have to visit Goodwill or the Salvation Army to buy something they can not spend more than $25, and I mean for the entire outfit. This ought to be fun.
Being born in the LATE sixties means that music was written, played and sung so as to be an influence in my life. It was still entertainment to many, but just as many saw music as a way to get their message heard - and responded to. I remember a lot of it - 60s, 70s, 80s ...
My favorite was the 1980s. I was in and out of young love, my hormones were in control (I discovered new surprises everyday), and I emerged from that awkward place where the rest of my body hid the memo from my nose and ears. Up until the early to mid eighties a love song didn't mean much to me. When I finally had a pretty face to attach to it the song became "ours." I like the music of the 1980s.
My friends and I are throwing an eighties party tonight. We're calling it a $2 Prom. Everyone must come dressed in an outfit from the mid 1980s. If they have it in their closet (and who doesn't) they can wear it. If they have to visit Goodwill or the Salvation Army to buy something they can not spend more than $25, and I mean for the entire outfit. This ought to be fun.
2.07.2008
earning ashes
I'd heard of Mardi Gras before, but as a child I grew up not knowing what Fat Tuesday or Ash Wednesday or Lent was. Our church tradition never mentioned it, and certainly didn't practice the forty days of sacrifice leading up to Easter.
Now that I'm aware, I decided to participate in my first ever Ash Wednesday service yesterday at the Cathedral of the Ascension in Frankfort, Kentucky. The entire ceremony was full of pageantry (by comparison to my simpler church upbringing). It was beautiful and emotional and moving and motivating. Along with all of the other worshippers there, I made my way to the altar to receive the ashes and the eucharist.
As beautiful and humbling as the service and the challenge was, it was the recited prayer that we prayed together that moved me most. While some of the others who recited out of habit repeated the lines while thinking of other, more earthly things, I read them, prayed them, and cried.
So, do as I did this past Ash Wednesday and read these words. Then contemplate them and say them out loud - both to yourself and to God. If you pay attention you'll likely be moved.
Most holy and merciful Father:We confess to you and to one another, and to the whole communion of saints in heaven and on earth, that we have sinned by our own fault in thought, word, and deed; by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.Have mercy on us, Lord.
We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us. We have not been true to the mind of Christ. We have grieved your Holy Spirit.Have mercy on us, Lord.
We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness: the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives, We confess to you, Lord.
Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people, We confess to you, Lord.
Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves, We confess to you, Lord.
Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work, We confess to you, Lord.
Our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us, We confess to you, Lord.
Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done: for our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty, Accept our repentance, Lord.
For all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us, Accept our repentance, Lord.
For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us, Accept our repentance, Lord.
Restore us, good Lord, and let your anger depart from us; Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great.
Accomplish in us the work of your salvation,That we may show forth your glory in the world.
By the cross and passion of your Son our Lord,Bring us with all your saints to the joy of his resurrection.
Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who desires not the death of sinners, but rather that they may turn from their wickedness and live, has given power and commandment to his ministers to declare and pronounce to his people, being penitent, the absolution and remission of their sins. He pardons and absolves all those who truly repent, and with sincere hearts believe his holy Gospel.
Therefore we beseech him to grant us true repentance and his Holy Spirit, that those things may please him which we do on this day, and that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and holy, so that at the last we may come to his eternal joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
Now that I'm aware, I decided to participate in my first ever Ash Wednesday service yesterday at the Cathedral of the Ascension in Frankfort, Kentucky. The entire ceremony was full of pageantry (by comparison to my simpler church upbringing). It was beautiful and emotional and moving and motivating. Along with all of the other worshippers there, I made my way to the altar to receive the ashes and the eucharist.
As beautiful and humbling as the service and the challenge was, it was the recited prayer that we prayed together that moved me most. While some of the others who recited out of habit repeated the lines while thinking of other, more earthly things, I read them, prayed them, and cried.
So, do as I did this past Ash Wednesday and read these words. Then contemplate them and say them out loud - both to yourself and to God. If you pay attention you'll likely be moved.
Most holy and merciful Father:We confess to you and to one another, and to the whole communion of saints in heaven and on earth, that we have sinned by our own fault in thought, word, and deed; by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.Have mercy on us, Lord.
We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us. We have not been true to the mind of Christ. We have grieved your Holy Spirit.Have mercy on us, Lord.
We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness: the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives, We confess to you, Lord.
Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people, We confess to you, Lord.
Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves, We confess to you, Lord.
Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work, We confess to you, Lord.
Our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us, We confess to you, Lord.
Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done: for our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty, Accept our repentance, Lord.
For all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us, Accept our repentance, Lord.
For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us, Accept our repentance, Lord.
Restore us, good Lord, and let your anger depart from us; Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great.
Accomplish in us the work of your salvation,That we may show forth your glory in the world.
By the cross and passion of your Son our Lord,Bring us with all your saints to the joy of his resurrection.
Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who desires not the death of sinners, but rather that they may turn from their wickedness and live, has given power and commandment to his ministers to declare and pronounce to his people, being penitent, the absolution and remission of their sins. He pardons and absolves all those who truly repent, and with sincere hearts believe his holy Gospel.
Therefore we beseech him to grant us true repentance and his Holy Spirit, that those things may please him which we do on this day, and that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and holy, so that at the last we may come to his eternal joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
ann
I like people with spunk. I know a few light steppers who avoid people with strong personalities, but I think they're missing out on some great fun and adventure. Sometimes I'll stir something up just to watch their eyes squint and their nostrils flare. People like that know how to get things done.
One of my favs is my friend Ann. She's got spunk. I call her my little Jew. She loves it. You've heard it said that friendships formed in the trenches last forever. Ann and I met while taking cover and returning fire in the middle of a political campaign. You don't get much closer to warfare than that. We've spent entire, long days fighting along side each other and made sure to take the time to chill and relax together at the end of the combat. I've shared stuff with her that no one else knows. I trust her that way.
I'm missing my friend these days. She's living in Washington, DC and spends a good part of her life between several countries. Today is her birthday and she seems especially far away. I hope it is a really, really good one for her.
One of my favs is my friend Ann. She's got spunk. I call her my little Jew. She loves it. You've heard it said that friendships formed in the trenches last forever. Ann and I met while taking cover and returning fire in the middle of a political campaign. You don't get much closer to warfare than that. We've spent entire, long days fighting along side each other and made sure to take the time to chill and relax together at the end of the combat. I've shared stuff with her that no one else knows. I trust her that way.
I'm missing my friend these days. She's living in Washington, DC and spends a good part of her life between several countries. Today is her birthday and she seems especially far away. I hope it is a really, really good one for her.
2.05.2008
ty
Now that we're in the computer/gadget age and we're able to carry on a full-tilt conversation without ever opening our mouths, we must learn to abbreviate. I carry a BlackBerry. I became addicted after having to use one with my work in the governor's office. Once you reluctantly start using you become a junkie almost immediately. Then you learn to say whole sentences using only parts of words. It's almost a code like language, except so many people do it now it's not really very secret - at least the way a proper code language should be.
Being in politics, we write a lot of thank you notes to folks who contribute to a campaign or give the governor or first lady or even their dog a gift. People who've given money to help us restore the Governor's Mansion received thank you notes from us. We learned in our texting/typing to use the letters "ty" instead of the whole word. Then this great, super, pretty and smart co-worker came into our lives whose name is Ty. That messed everything up. Now we use the letters "tu." I don't mind though because I like Ty. She's one of my bffs now. Today is her bday!! I'll stop now. My spellcheck is getting angry.
Being in politics, we write a lot of thank you notes to folks who contribute to a campaign or give the governor or first lady or even their dog a gift. People who've given money to help us restore the Governor's Mansion received thank you notes from us. We learned in our texting/typing to use the letters "ty" instead of the whole word. Then this great, super, pretty and smart co-worker came into our lives whose name is Ty. That messed everything up. Now we use the letters "tu." I don't mind though because I like Ty. She's one of my bffs now. Today is her bday!! I'll stop now. My spellcheck is getting angry.
2.02.2008
rodents and their shadows
I saw an episode of the Beverly Hillbillies one time where this weather expert had developed this super-accurate forecasting system that was fool-proof and accurate to the degree and drop. It was science at its best. But the massive machine was no match for Granny's little beetle bug in a box. The scientist said there'd be no rain. Granny's beetle said there would. So it rained.
He's no beetle in a box, but you have to give it to the little furry creature who makes his annual February 2nd weather prediction every year. Actually, if there's adulation to be given, I'd give it to the folks in Punxsutawney, PA who've made Phil the groundhog's annual appearance from the hole a national spectacular. You know how it works, if he (the animal) sees his shadow we buy more firewood. If he peeks his head up, laughs at the spectacle and goes back to bed we call the AC guy. How cool! Of course, if all other weather forecasters could give the weather word then crawl back into their hole they'd do it the way he does.
This little critter, or one just like him (although the official handlers maintain there has only been one official Phil the groundhog for the last 120 YEARS) has met with a United States president, several governors, been a guest on THE TV TALK SHOW (Tom Cruise wasn't the first person to jump all over Oprah's couch), had movies made about him and even been broadcast in Times Square!
I need his agent...
He's no beetle in a box, but you have to give it to the little furry creature who makes his annual February 2nd weather prediction every year. Actually, if there's adulation to be given, I'd give it to the folks in Punxsutawney, PA who've made Phil the groundhog's annual appearance from the hole a national spectacular. You know how it works, if he (the animal) sees his shadow we buy more firewood. If he peeks his head up, laughs at the spectacle and goes back to bed we call the AC guy. How cool! Of course, if all other weather forecasters could give the weather word then crawl back into their hole they'd do it the way he does.
This little critter, or one just like him (although the official handlers maintain there has only been one official Phil the groundhog for the last 120 YEARS) has met with a United States president, several governors, been a guest on THE TV TALK SHOW (Tom Cruise wasn't the first person to jump all over Oprah's couch), had movies made about him and even been broadcast in Times Square!
I need his agent...
father jim
I guess we all meet tons of people through the course of our comings and goings everyday. Our work, play, church, sports and other things bring us very close to people we often know nothing or very little about and really sorta just brush 'em on passed us in the name of moving on. BUT, sometimes you meet a person who just fascinates you and becomes a real friend. Several years ago I met Jim Sichko. He's one of the most fun, cool, smart and experienced people I know. He knows so much about so much. Everybody around here knows him as Father Jim of the St. Mark Catholic Church in Richmond. The Pope knows him, but maybe that's because they see things a lot alike. But you don't usually think of a guy in a collar as a sit down friend with peeps like Bill Cosby and Regis Philbin and Howie Mandel and Natalie Cole and Dolly Parton and others. They all like this guy. He's their friend. That's because they know him, and if you know FJ (I like to call him that), you're gonna like him. He's a good friend who I treasure deeply, and today is his birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY FJ!!
1.21.2008
dave
I like Dave. He's one of those calm and observant kinda guys that you wish you were like after you've opened your mouth and revealed your lack of class. Dave has class. When everyone else in the room is waiting for the guy who's currently owning the conversation to take a breath so we can jump in and say something brilliant, Dave is sitting on the side, but not too far away, listening and well, just listening. He's smart. He's an attorney. I'm sure you have to be smart to be an attorney, but that's not why I think he's smart. For the record, I know some pretty stupid attorneys. I think Dave is smart because he listens more than he talks. It could be because he has nothing to say. But that doesn't keep me or most of my other friends from saying something. If we were smart we'd do more listening. Dave is smart. Today is his birthday. He's asked anyone who intended to get him a gift to make their present buying money payable instead to the Lexington Senior Citizen's Center. He's smart AND kind. Happy birthday Dave.
dreamin'
From my journal...
How can you not be moved? I'll ask you again later.
You are safe at home in your bed. The rain is falling, but that is on the outside. You are comfortable. You are dry. You are warm. You are safe. As a matter of fact, you feel sorta giddy because you've finally reached that soft spot you've been inching toward for hours. It may not be on your task list, but you know that resting your head and closing your eyes at the end of the day is a sweet reward for all you've dealt with since your last laid here.
You rest well as the day's events play through your mind. You're satisfied you've accomplished so much, or you try and bury the undone things under happier thoughts at least until morning. The children are well, only steps away, resting just as safely - just as warm.
Suddenly, a very loud and angry crash is at your door. Being startled and a bit dazed, you wonder what causes such a terrible commotion? Now voices - angry, loud incoherent voices screaming words you can't understand. They near your retreat. Your heart is pounding. Your mind is racing. Who are they? What do they want? Why are they here?
Your children scream.
Protecting yourself is an afterthought now. You have to stand for your children. You are their protector. No one is going to harm, to violate your children. You won't let it happen. Your love is stronger than your fear, but before you can reach them, they are gone, and you will be too very soon. Your peace is shattered. You are broken. You have no voice. The intruders are in control.
Still lots of questions. Still no answers. Moments ago you were warm. The once distant rain now chills the clothes you only intended to rest in. You shiver in the wet nightime cold.
Only moments ago these streets were quiet. Being led through them now, you realize you are no longer safe, and as far as your invaders are concerned, not completely human. Who could treat another human like this? You can't ignore the screams of close and friendly neighbors pleading for their own lives and the lives of their children. But you can do nothing to help them either. You know their fear - their sense of helplessness. You want to grieve for them. But you sense that the worst is yet to be realized. The "cleansing" continues through the night.
How can you not be moved?
If you lived today in Darfur, Sudan, or in too many other places on our planet this would not be a movie script sort of story. Closer to home, if you were black, and lived right here as recently as a few years ago in the country we are so very proud of, the same scenario could be played out in your own neighborhood, on your own street. If you were Jewish, in Europe, it was just a generation ago.
"In a sense, we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I have a dream..."
-Martin Luther King, Jr. on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC August 28, 1963
How can you not be moved? I'll ask you again later.
You are safe at home in your bed. The rain is falling, but that is on the outside. You are comfortable. You are dry. You are warm. You are safe. As a matter of fact, you feel sorta giddy because you've finally reached that soft spot you've been inching toward for hours. It may not be on your task list, but you know that resting your head and closing your eyes at the end of the day is a sweet reward for all you've dealt with since your last laid here.
You rest well as the day's events play through your mind. You're satisfied you've accomplished so much, or you try and bury the undone things under happier thoughts at least until morning. The children are well, only steps away, resting just as safely - just as warm.
Suddenly, a very loud and angry crash is at your door. Being startled and a bit dazed, you wonder what causes such a terrible commotion? Now voices - angry, loud incoherent voices screaming words you can't understand. They near your retreat. Your heart is pounding. Your mind is racing. Who are they? What do they want? Why are they here?
Your children scream.
Protecting yourself is an afterthought now. You have to stand for your children. You are their protector. No one is going to harm, to violate your children. You won't let it happen. Your love is stronger than your fear, but before you can reach them, they are gone, and you will be too very soon. Your peace is shattered. You are broken. You have no voice. The intruders are in control.
Still lots of questions. Still no answers. Moments ago you were warm. The once distant rain now chills the clothes you only intended to rest in. You shiver in the wet nightime cold.
Only moments ago these streets were quiet. Being led through them now, you realize you are no longer safe, and as far as your invaders are concerned, not completely human. Who could treat another human like this? You can't ignore the screams of close and friendly neighbors pleading for their own lives and the lives of their children. But you can do nothing to help them either. You know their fear - their sense of helplessness. You want to grieve for them. But you sense that the worst is yet to be realized. The "cleansing" continues through the night.
How can you not be moved?
If you lived today in Darfur, Sudan, or in too many other places on our planet this would not be a movie script sort of story. Closer to home, if you were black, and lived right here as recently as a few years ago in the country we are so very proud of, the same scenario could be played out in your own neighborhood, on your own street. If you were Jewish, in Europe, it was just a generation ago.
"In a sense, we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I have a dream..."
-Martin Luther King, Jr. on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC August 28, 1963
1.17.2008
anthony
Today is Anthony Roberts' birthday. He's a good friend who I enjoy hanging out with. Not that we need an occasion to gather and eat, but a bunch of our group will meet up for dinner at PF Chang's tonight to help him celebrate. It's always crowded there but evidently someone in our group knows someone important in the Chinese food business. We don't usually have to wait too long. I'll be bloated on rice by the end of the night and I'll be nearly miserable trying to keep my belly in. I'll do my best to look good or die trying. The cards are always good for a few minutes of entertainment.
1.01.2008
auld lang syne
I'm a singer. I also write music and lyrics. I pay attention to the science and measure of a song, and depending on my mood, I either tear a bad song to pieces (usually in my own mind, or even out loud if no one is around to hear my rants) or wish I'd thought of it myself. Sometimes it is the inspiration that I envy. Most of the songs that I think are the most motivating, inspiring, thought provoking pieces of musical art ever, really aren't considered Christian or even religious. Although I do think they are pretty spiritual. (see "I Hope You Dance.")
One of those songs is from the Broadway musical RENT. Jonathan Larson found some great inspiration in the middle of this sorta sad tale. When most of us divide our lives into the memorable good and bad times and forget most everything in between, he breaks it out further and sees more moments than most of us realized were available. We think of seasons as in three months of days and nights with little movement on the thermometer. JL must've known how we were limiting ourselves. I like his way better. "Five hundred twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes... Cups of coffee, daylight, laughter, strife, inches, miles, smiles, tears, love ... Five hundred twenty five thousand Seasons of love..."
And for the good times of yesterday, not just the 2007 ones, "Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear. For auld lang syne. We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet for auld lang syne." For the good times...
One of those songs is from the Broadway musical RENT. Jonathan Larson found some great inspiration in the middle of this sorta sad tale. When most of us divide our lives into the memorable good and bad times and forget most everything in between, he breaks it out further and sees more moments than most of us realized were available. We think of seasons as in three months of days and nights with little movement on the thermometer. JL must've known how we were limiting ourselves. I like his way better. "Five hundred twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes... Cups of coffee, daylight, laughter, strife, inches, miles, smiles, tears, love ... Five hundred twenty five thousand Seasons of love..."
And for the good times of yesterday, not just the 2007 ones, "Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear. For auld lang syne. We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet for auld lang syne." For the good times...
11.10.2007
what a girl!!!
I never know how to feel on days like this. My little girl isn't so little anymore. It's funny how I can't remember what food I put in my mouth yesterday, but I remember the smallest details of this day 19 years ago when the earth, or at least my part of it, sighed and smiled when Casie Rachelle Bishop became a part of it. That little prune of a newborn human very quickly became one of the world's most beautiful, smart, caring examples of the best our species has to offer. Newborn, toddler,... preteen, teenager,... As quickly as I typed it, it happened. She's made me awfully proud in less than twenty years. I look at her today and feel pretty good about myself. Happy birthday baby doll! You always win.
11.07.2007
talking politics - not politicians
I'm not good at political debate. You'd think with the work I do at the place I do around the folks I do that I would be all about a good round or two of defending my allies and debasing my opponents. Problem is, I don't see those who view political ideas different than mine as my enemies.
First off, I chose several years ago not to allow politics to choose my friends. I have a lot of conservative, Republican friends. I also have a lot of conservative, Democrat friends. I have just as many friends from both parties who are much more liberal. They are all my friends, even when we disagree on politics.
There is much, much more to their person than their politics. And hear this; they all have valid reasons for believing the way they do, and often valid arguments for their opinions. Both sides of every issue are usually very passionate about their ideas.
There are such things as atheist Republicans and praying Democrats. Interestingly enough, those are the ones who usually say that politics and religion should not mix.
If you listen to the conservatives, they will tell you, with lots of emotion, that the media in the United States these days is made up of screaming liberals. Oddly enough, the liberals say the same thing, only opposite. The conservatives feel that CNN, the New York Times, the Washington Post and all of the big TV networks are propagandist carrier pigeons for the liberal wing of the Democratic party. The liberals are sure that Rush, Sean and Bill, along with Fox News and the Washington Times are loudmouthed ultraconservatives just shy of Nazism.
Personally, I think they're all wrong. Or maybe they're all right, but only as a whole. If you watch CNN long enough you'll likely be convinced it leans to the left. The same amount of tube time will leave you with the impression that Fox News nods to the right. It seems to me that the only way to get all the parts of a story, bias and all, is to watch both, put the left and right together, take out the over-the-top rhetoric, and maybe, just maybe you'll get enough of the truth to make an honest judgment about what you've just seen and heard.
News rooms are run by people. People have opinions. As much as we'd like to believe that news reporting agencies are motivated by reporting just the facts - all sides of a story, I'm afraid there are no major media outlets that do it that way. You and I see and hear what an editor with an opinion one way or another on what he/she is disseminating, decides we should be exposed to. As a friend of mine in the news business once told me, "Sometimes facts just get in the way."
Sex sells. High drama and violence caught on tape sells. The word "exclusive" sells. Whistle-blowers who expose corruption or deceit sells. Politicians caught in the act sells. All of these things make for good business for the people who sell us the news. People tune in or log on to that sort of stuff. No one buys chastity. Watching a run of the mill traffic stop or routine city council meeting gets no ones attention. Someone bragging on the performance of a hard working elected official doesn't usually gather cameras. When people do what they're supposed to do no one is interested. Thus, the majority of everything good or normal that happens in a day is never mentioned at six o'clock.
There are 535 senators and congressmen in Washington, DC. When one or a handful of them messes up or does something dumb it's a scandal of monumental proportions. When the overwhelming majority of them report for work, represent their peeps and do the business of government it's not news. And when the reporters who circle the Hill like vultures smell blood, they make sure the shock is felt around the world. They'll make it as big as they can.
The reporters aren't the only guilty solicitors in such cases either. If a Repub gets caught jaywalking the Dems make sure we see them in horns and tail by sundown. The GOPers are just as guilty. Then they both complain that it's an overreaction. Is there any reason our elected officials are looked upon with great disgust and tremendous mistrust?
The first rule of a successful political race is defining your candidate as a deceiving demon at worst or an incompetent oaf at least. Most of the time they are neither. And the real humor of it all (if there is any) is that we are asked to respect the winner of the nasty, ugly and misleading duel in the end. I know a lot of honorable and good men and women who serve their constituents well. I know a lot of others who would do a fine job in the elected halls, they just don't want to subject themselves or their families to the innuendo, traps and grime of a political campaign. The most qualified don't want it that bad - and don't deserve the mud in their face.
Sometimes I'll be in a group of Republican friends who are talking trash about Democrats. They say ugly things. When they ask my opinion, or prod me to join in, I tell them that I think some Democratic ideas are good. They see the other party as an enemy. I don't. When I'm hanging with a group of Democrat friends they try and bait me into either feeling embarrassed about my conservative beliefs, or demeaning me for simply acknowledging there are good Republican people. Both sides accuse the other of being dumb, blind or arrogant. I say, if you feel that way about the other political party it probably describes you.
Tony Campolo is, in my opinion, a wonderfully brilliant man. I heard him say once, when someone asks him what political party he belongs to, he simply says, "State the issue please." I'm like Tony. If an idea is one of truth and honor, I'm for it. If it is proposed by the Republicans, so be it. If it is advanced by the Democrats, so be it. The ideal is what is important. The party of origin is not.
First off, I chose several years ago not to allow politics to choose my friends. I have a lot of conservative, Republican friends. I also have a lot of conservative, Democrat friends. I have just as many friends from both parties who are much more liberal. They are all my friends, even when we disagree on politics.
There is much, much more to their person than their politics. And hear this; they all have valid reasons for believing the way they do, and often valid arguments for their opinions. Both sides of every issue are usually very passionate about their ideas.
There are such things as atheist Republicans and praying Democrats. Interestingly enough, those are the ones who usually say that politics and religion should not mix.
If you listen to the conservatives, they will tell you, with lots of emotion, that the media in the United States these days is made up of screaming liberals. Oddly enough, the liberals say the same thing, only opposite. The conservatives feel that CNN, the New York Times, the Washington Post and all of the big TV networks are propagandist carrier pigeons for the liberal wing of the Democratic party. The liberals are sure that Rush, Sean and Bill, along with Fox News and the Washington Times are loudmouthed ultraconservatives just shy of Nazism.
Personally, I think they're all wrong. Or maybe they're all right, but only as a whole. If you watch CNN long enough you'll likely be convinced it leans to the left. The same amount of tube time will leave you with the impression that Fox News nods to the right. It seems to me that the only way to get all the parts of a story, bias and all, is to watch both, put the left and right together, take out the over-the-top rhetoric, and maybe, just maybe you'll get enough of the truth to make an honest judgment about what you've just seen and heard.
News rooms are run by people. People have opinions. As much as we'd like to believe that news reporting agencies are motivated by reporting just the facts - all sides of a story, I'm afraid there are no major media outlets that do it that way. You and I see and hear what an editor with an opinion one way or another on what he/she is disseminating, decides we should be exposed to. As a friend of mine in the news business once told me, "Sometimes facts just get in the way."
Sex sells. High drama and violence caught on tape sells. The word "exclusive" sells. Whistle-blowers who expose corruption or deceit sells. Politicians caught in the act sells. All of these things make for good business for the people who sell us the news. People tune in or log on to that sort of stuff. No one buys chastity. Watching a run of the mill traffic stop or routine city council meeting gets no ones attention. Someone bragging on the performance of a hard working elected official doesn't usually gather cameras. When people do what they're supposed to do no one is interested. Thus, the majority of everything good or normal that happens in a day is never mentioned at six o'clock.
There are 535 senators and congressmen in Washington, DC. When one or a handful of them messes up or does something dumb it's a scandal of monumental proportions. When the overwhelming majority of them report for work, represent their peeps and do the business of government it's not news. And when the reporters who circle the Hill like vultures smell blood, they make sure the shock is felt around the world. They'll make it as big as they can.
The reporters aren't the only guilty solicitors in such cases either. If a Repub gets caught jaywalking the Dems make sure we see them in horns and tail by sundown. The GOPers are just as guilty. Then they both complain that it's an overreaction. Is there any reason our elected officials are looked upon with great disgust and tremendous mistrust?
The first rule of a successful political race is defining your candidate as a deceiving demon at worst or an incompetent oaf at least. Most of the time they are neither. And the real humor of it all (if there is any) is that we are asked to respect the winner of the nasty, ugly and misleading duel in the end. I know a lot of honorable and good men and women who serve their constituents well. I know a lot of others who would do a fine job in the elected halls, they just don't want to subject themselves or their families to the innuendo, traps and grime of a political campaign. The most qualified don't want it that bad - and don't deserve the mud in their face.
Sometimes I'll be in a group of Republican friends who are talking trash about Democrats. They say ugly things. When they ask my opinion, or prod me to join in, I tell them that I think some Democratic ideas are good. They see the other party as an enemy. I don't. When I'm hanging with a group of Democrat friends they try and bait me into either feeling embarrassed about my conservative beliefs, or demeaning me for simply acknowledging there are good Republican people. Both sides accuse the other of being dumb, blind or arrogant. I say, if you feel that way about the other political party it probably describes you.
Tony Campolo is, in my opinion, a wonderfully brilliant man. I heard him say once, when someone asks him what political party he belongs to, he simply says, "State the issue please." I'm like Tony. If an idea is one of truth and honor, I'm for it. If it is proposed by the Republicans, so be it. If it is advanced by the Democrats, so be it. The ideal is what is important. The party of origin is not.
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