OK, this is two nights in a row that I've tossed and turned and flipped and flopped and generally endured the dark to dread the day. Caffeine is not the culprit. I made sure to avoid it after lunch yesterday. I'm thinking it's the personal stuff that's on my mind. Things like that don't typically keep me awake all night though. At some point I usually figure I ain't gonna get it fixed by worrying, so I roll over and eventually rest. Last night's thing had as much to do with the dull headache that traveled behind my left eye, down my ear and into my neck. It didn't let up all night long. Then I got out of bed with it this morning. I think it's a pinched nerve. That's what a friend told me anyway.
So this morning I was obviously awake before the alarm went off. I usually build in one snooze cycle to just lay there and think about the day and give the coffee time to finish brewing. I went ahead and rolled out this morning though. No sense in laying there if I wasn't going to enjoy it. Besides, the headache was getting worse and I needed to take something for it or ask God for a miracle. I did both, but thanked God for the relief - and the coffee.
Putting my suit on was a booger this morning. I didn't feel like going to the office. But the bills don't appreciate a good heachache. When I got there, I told a friend that one way to appreciate a good day is to start out with a bad one. When things get better you're grateful and have a new perspective.
On the way in this morning I didn't so much as turn on the radio or answer the phone. My head was hurting too much. So I did what we usually do when we desperately need something done on the inside. I begged to God. It started and went like a lot of my prayers do...
"My head hurts! GOD, please do something about my headache!! The little pills are NOT working!!! I know it's no tragedy or anything like that, but it's painful and it HURTS!!!! Either take the pain or KILL ME!!!!! If you love me you'll HEAL MY HEAD!!!!!! (pause) OK, first, let me back up. Thank you for all the things you HAVE done. I really am grateful, I promise. My nice little home is still standing, my old truck is still running, my kids and parents are healthy, they all still love me, I have lots of great friends, you allow me to write and share, I get to sing, I have a good job, I get to know you, we're able to talk with each other, I'll enjoy Heaven one day. There's that and more that I thank you for. And before I get back to myself, I want to ask you to show your love to everyone who is struggling to recover from the accidents and tragedies and illnesses that have suddenly ravaged their lives. Please give comfort and peace to those who are dealing with deep losses and hurtful experiences and broken relationships. Remind everyone who has been wounded that your grace is sufficient. Be with my children and my parents and my family and my friends and our leaders and even the folks I'm having trouble loving. About that, Lord, please help me to get over the anger I feel sometimes. I realize there is nothing good to come of it. Maybe that's what's keeping me awake at night. Help me reflect your grace in this. It's hard to do, but it's the right thing I know. As a matter of fact God, I ask you to bless and prosper the people I've been resenting. Let me back up some more. I guess I should've started by asking you to forgive me of my sins. My bad - again. I'm glad you know the beginning from the end. That helps. Amen."
6.24.2008
6.23.2008
please, let him be dead.
Before I say anything, please know that this journal entry is not about the deceased as much as it's about the people who won't let him die.
At the risk of sounding cold and insensitive (reread what I said at the very beginning), does Tim Russert deserve the canonization we've bestowed upon his mostly ordinary life? Other than being very unexpected, why is his death and all of the follow-up such big, big news?
As much as I admired his political savvy and appreciated the way he honored his dad, I don't remember Tim doing anything more than informing me of the positions politicians took. He didn't set policies or do anything that directly affected me that I'm aware of. Is it even appropriate to treat his life's work this way?
I think he'd be embarrassed to know that his passing has taken attention away from floods in the Midwest, fires in the west, war in the Middle East and famine coupled with atrocities in Darfur, not to mention the presidential race he wanted us to know so much about. He was a better man than that.
At the risk of sounding cold and insensitive (reread what I said at the very beginning), does Tim Russert deserve the canonization we've bestowed upon his mostly ordinary life? Other than being very unexpected, why is his death and all of the follow-up such big, big news?
As much as I admired his political savvy and appreciated the way he honored his dad, I don't remember Tim doing anything more than informing me of the positions politicians took. He didn't set policies or do anything that directly affected me that I'm aware of. Is it even appropriate to treat his life's work this way?
I think he'd be embarrassed to know that his passing has taken attention away from floods in the Midwest, fires in the west, war in the Middle East and famine coupled with atrocities in Darfur, not to mention the presidential race he wanted us to know so much about. He was a better man than that.
6.22.2008
the longest day
Yesterday was the longest day of the year. I'm glad I got to spend it with my son. We didn't do anything super spectacular. We did go to a movie and we did have too much popcorn. You need to see Get Smart. We both loved it. Movie or not though, I spent another special day with Christian. I'm satisfied.
They tell me the summer solstice used to be a big deal. It's the time when the sun is the highest in the sky, thus the longer(est) day. It's also the official start of summer - depending on who you ask. In some, actually most cultures, the longest day is considered mid-summer. Of course here in the U.S. by the time "Summer day 1" arrives, we've already been wearing white shoes for about a month and a half thanks to Memorial Day.
In about six months the folks down in the southern hemisphere will be enjoying their longest day. Wonder what they'll do with it.
They tell me the summer solstice used to be a big deal. It's the time when the sun is the highest in the sky, thus the longer(est) day. It's also the official start of summer - depending on who you ask. In some, actually most cultures, the longest day is considered mid-summer. Of course here in the U.S. by the time "Summer day 1" arrives, we've already been wearing white shoes for about a month and a half thanks to Memorial Day.
In about six months the folks down in the southern hemisphere will be enjoying their longest day. Wonder what they'll do with it.
6.21.2008
what have we done?
What the *bleep* have we done?!
I recently heard about a man who decided to go to church for the first time in a long time. His family had prayed, fasted and reasoned with him, and they were thrilled when he got over his own prejudices and fears and decided to go. They didn't want to make a big deal of it, or embarrass him when he came in, so they let him pick his own seat in the back and left him alone. They were just beside themselves that he was even there. Then the usher noticed him. Actually, he noticed his hat, and it wasn't in his hands, it was on his head where most folks keep them.
Evidently the man always wore his hat. He was known for wearing his hat. No one could ever remember seeing him without his hat. So when the usher asked him to remove it, the man politely said no. But the usher wouldn't let it go, so he asked him again, and this time he made it a spiritual matter. God would consider it disrespectful and a sin if the man continued to wear his hat in church. But again the man said no. There was nothing left to discuss then. So the usher asked him to leave.
Yep. After years of intense prayers and pleadings, the man who decided to give church another chance had a senseless face-to-face encounter with the church's rule keeper - and over a piece of cloth on his head. Not a song, not a sermon, not even a prayer, all he got was an over zealous man in an usher's coat who took it upon himself to proclaim that wearing a hat in church will send you to Hell. He probably could've found bible for it too.
I got an email from a friend today. She just moved to a new city. It's a small town actually and she's anxious to settle into a new church home. She's found one that she likes, and the people there are showing her love and acceptance. But the pastor is a woman. My friend worries that's a sin. It's also not a Pentecostal church. Her Pentecostal friends tell her that no church is better than a non-Pentecostal one. So now she wonders if she should go to church at all.
What HAVE we done?
I recently heard about a man who decided to go to church for the first time in a long time. His family had prayed, fasted and reasoned with him, and they were thrilled when he got over his own prejudices and fears and decided to go. They didn't want to make a big deal of it, or embarrass him when he came in, so they let him pick his own seat in the back and left him alone. They were just beside themselves that he was even there. Then the usher noticed him. Actually, he noticed his hat, and it wasn't in his hands, it was on his head where most folks keep them.
Evidently the man always wore his hat. He was known for wearing his hat. No one could ever remember seeing him without his hat. So when the usher asked him to remove it, the man politely said no. But the usher wouldn't let it go, so he asked him again, and this time he made it a spiritual matter. God would consider it disrespectful and a sin if the man continued to wear his hat in church. But again the man said no. There was nothing left to discuss then. So the usher asked him to leave.
Yep. After years of intense prayers and pleadings, the man who decided to give church another chance had a senseless face-to-face encounter with the church's rule keeper - and over a piece of cloth on his head. Not a song, not a sermon, not even a prayer, all he got was an over zealous man in an usher's coat who took it upon himself to proclaim that wearing a hat in church will send you to Hell. He probably could've found bible for it too.
I got an email from a friend today. She just moved to a new city. It's a small town actually and she's anxious to settle into a new church home. She's found one that she likes, and the people there are showing her love and acceptance. But the pastor is a woman. My friend worries that's a sin. It's also not a Pentecostal church. Her Pentecostal friends tell her that no church is better than a non-Pentecostal one. So now she wonders if she should go to church at all.
What HAVE we done?
6.20.2008
my pal
Christian was born on a Sunday, Father's Day Sunday as a matter fact. The doctor was on his way to church when the hospital got hold of him. He came in, assessed the situation, called his wife and told her that he'd meet her there sometime before the sermon. He did too. It was all routine to him. It was a day like no other for me.
Sometimes I catch myself doing the things my dad does. His expressions and mannerisms have been passed down the family line, and I don't even notice it sometimes until it startles me. Dad shakes his head from side to side when he sees someone doing something that isn't smart. So do I. He exhausts that long breath of air through his nose when he's frustrated. Me too. I'm a lot like my dad in a lot of ways, intentional or not.
I look at Christian and sometimes I think I see too much of me. He handles school the way I did. He approaches sports the way I did. He has a lot of my features and a lot of my mannerisms and too much of my attitude. I don't know whether to be proud or try and do something about it. Regardless, he's my son, and I couldn't imagine waking up or laying down without his existence in my world.
He's fifteen as of today. It's hard for me to believe that I've known him that long. We've passed baseballs, footballs and Frisbees. He's embarrassed me on the basketball court and beat the spit out of me on video games too many times. We send MySpace notes and text messages to each other. Sometimes we just sit with the phone to our ears and don't say much. When we're apart it makes us feel closer. Concerts and movies and cruises and roller coaster rides together are all in our past. I'm anxious to see what our future looks like.
Happy birthday Pal!! You're the best I've got. Did I tell you that I love you?
Sometimes I catch myself doing the things my dad does. His expressions and mannerisms have been passed down the family line, and I don't even notice it sometimes until it startles me. Dad shakes his head from side to side when he sees someone doing something that isn't smart. So do I. He exhausts that long breath of air through his nose when he's frustrated. Me too. I'm a lot like my dad in a lot of ways, intentional or not.
I look at Christian and sometimes I think I see too much of me. He handles school the way I did. He approaches sports the way I did. He has a lot of my features and a lot of my mannerisms and too much of my attitude. I don't know whether to be proud or try and do something about it. Regardless, he's my son, and I couldn't imagine waking up or laying down without his existence in my world.
He's fifteen as of today. It's hard for me to believe that I've known him that long. We've passed baseballs, footballs and Frisbees. He's embarrassed me on the basketball court and beat the spit out of me on video games too many times. We send MySpace notes and text messages to each other. Sometimes we just sit with the phone to our ears and don't say much. When we're apart it makes us feel closer. Concerts and movies and cruises and roller coaster rides together are all in our past. I'm anxious to see what our future looks like.
Happy birthday Pal!! You're the best I've got. Did I tell you that I love you?
6.19.2008
ouch
You have to be careful what you say in a forum like this. I'm pretty much left to your mercy when all you see from me is words and letters. Interpretation of my intent is left up to you. I do usually try to consider that it is the reader's mood more so than my own that determines how my thoughts are received. But I can see how it would be easy for someone who's having a bad day to turn a perfectly fun line of text into smart-alack sarcasm. I usually try to tell you if something is intended to be tongue-in-cheek.
Last night a friend mentioned to me that something I wrote here was being discussed on another blog. Then they told me not to read it. They said it would make me mad. So I didn't. I doubt that I would have gotten angry over it though. I most always try to consider that most folks who share their opinions online and from a distance typically only know bits and pieces about whatever it is they're discussing - even though they usually post as though they have all the details from a reliable source. I'm sure they mean no harm. I hope they don't. Their situation is much like mine. I can't read their spirit, just their words.
-------------------------
UPDATE at 8:00 PM
After saying all of that stuff about the easiness of misreading the intent of words online, I read what I wrote and it sounded sorta short. Maybe my reading mood and my writing mood are not synched up. I hope you understand.
I'm grateful for friends who take the time to ask how things are going and show their love. I also appreciate the opportunity to share the things that are on my mind. That's the point of this journal.
Last night a friend mentioned to me that something I wrote here was being discussed on another blog. Then they told me not to read it. They said it would make me mad. So I didn't. I doubt that I would have gotten angry over it though. I most always try to consider that most folks who share their opinions online and from a distance typically only know bits and pieces about whatever it is they're discussing - even though they usually post as though they have all the details from a reliable source. I'm sure they mean no harm. I hope they don't. Their situation is much like mine. I can't read their spirit, just their words.
-------------------------
UPDATE at 8:00 PM
After saying all of that stuff about the easiness of misreading the intent of words online, I read what I wrote and it sounded sorta short. Maybe my reading mood and my writing mood are not synched up. I hope you understand.
I'm grateful for friends who take the time to ask how things are going and show their love. I also appreciate the opportunity to share the things that are on my mind. That's the point of this journal.
6.18.2008
fun and games
Word today is that the world's most famous golfer is out for the season. He just barely squeaked out a win at this past weekend's big tournament, and evidently strained something in the process. So the brand that is Tiger Woods is now on a reprieve from the gorgeous greens, lush landscapes, wonderful waters and sparkling sun that meets him at the office every weekend.
I'm not a golfer, but I have lots of friends who are. They tell me that although it sometimes gets competitive on the course, they play 'cause it's fun and relaxing. But, like so many other pastimes and hobbies, what was once a way to escape for a while and enjoy a little exercise and stimulation has turned into an industry. Since so many people were enjoying just doing it, someone somewhere figured out a way to make a profit. Once money becomes an element it's only a matter of time before it evolves into a full-fledged profession with people manipulating the system and a regulating authority because of it.
This week there was a story in the news here in Kentucky about a couple of high school kids who transferred to another district so they'd have a better shot at a college and professional basketball career. No mention as to whether the parent's considered the kid's education. Even more sad, middle and high schools are recruiting like colleges now. It's not uncommon either. It's a constant debate all around the country as parents sell their kids to the highest bidder hoping to breed a star athlete. Reminds me of the thoroughbred horse sales we have here each year.
Kids used to swim and skate for fun. Now it's a professional sport. The object once was getting the bag across the yard without being stopped. A la NFL. Same with baseball and tennis and basketball and soccer and pretty much anything else that requires teamwork or competition. Now that dollars are exchanged, the real sport (competition) is in the front office.
It's just as true in other things. Music, art, dancing, writing, talking and even sex have all become industries. If someone has something to gain and someone is willing to pay, why not charge for it?
I wonder if Tiger or Shaq or whoever is the big baseball star is right now ever wants to go back and just do it for fun.
I'm not a golfer, but I have lots of friends who are. They tell me that although it sometimes gets competitive on the course, they play 'cause it's fun and relaxing. But, like so many other pastimes and hobbies, what was once a way to escape for a while and enjoy a little exercise and stimulation has turned into an industry. Since so many people were enjoying just doing it, someone somewhere figured out a way to make a profit. Once money becomes an element it's only a matter of time before it evolves into a full-fledged profession with people manipulating the system and a regulating authority because of it.
This week there was a story in the news here in Kentucky about a couple of high school kids who transferred to another district so they'd have a better shot at a college and professional basketball career. No mention as to whether the parent's considered the kid's education. Even more sad, middle and high schools are recruiting like colleges now. It's not uncommon either. It's a constant debate all around the country as parents sell their kids to the highest bidder hoping to breed a star athlete. Reminds me of the thoroughbred horse sales we have here each year.
Kids used to swim and skate for fun. Now it's a professional sport. The object once was getting the bag across the yard without being stopped. A la NFL. Same with baseball and tennis and basketball and soccer and pretty much anything else that requires teamwork or competition. Now that dollars are exchanged, the real sport (competition) is in the front office.
It's just as true in other things. Music, art, dancing, writing, talking and even sex have all become industries. If someone has something to gain and someone is willing to pay, why not charge for it?
I wonder if Tiger or Shaq or whoever is the big baseball star is right now ever wants to go back and just do it for fun.
6.15.2008
dad deserved it...
This past week I took a trip back in time. One of the neat, or sometimes not so neat things about performing in front of people for so many years is that some of it was actually captured on video. Thanks to Dean in West Virginia I've been able to relive some great moments of our group on the stage.
A few weeks ago he sent me a copy of one of our group's most proud southern gospel achievements. Back in the late 1980s and early 1990s TNN produced and aired a show that featured Southern Gospel Music. Comedians Hicks and Cohagen hosted it, the Harper Agency coordinated the talent and Eddie Crook was the music director. The show was taped inside Studio B in Nashville, the same place they shot Hee Haw.
As a pretty young group we were beyond thrilled when we were asked to be one of the select few artists to be on the show. Then we found out that we were going to be on the very first episode! With the Cathedrals! It was nearly dizzying! It was all happening so fast... There's a really neat Singing News Magazine cover photo of the two groups playing around on the set. There's a story attached to that too. Maybe later.
While watching the video last week it occurred to me what a wonderfully stable and humble man my dad is. During the whole show I was bouncing around and exaggerating way too much, especially for TV. He and Mark stood there with pleasant written all over their faces, smiled and sang.
Last week I got another video from Dean. This one was our group's 1998 set at the National Quartet Convention in Louisville. I just put it in the player and watched it for the first time yesterday. I was actually pleasantly surprised. I usually pick our performances apart like piranha on a feeding frenzy. This time though the singing wasn't bad; our little band had it together; and the songs, mostly written by my brother Mark, were really good. On the other hand, once again I think I made way too much noise.
I don't usually get too emotional when I see things like this. I pay too much attention to the technical stuff to get bogged down with the nostalgia. I almost watch with a cringe because I know I'm probably going to embarrass myself.
This one was different. Before anything else, the thing that captured my attention was my dad's being there. There was something about him on that stage at that event in front of all of those people that struck me as amazingly beautiful. He's never given me a reason to be ashamed, but watching him hold his place and play his part that night made me feel very proud.
He deserved to be on that stage whether anyone else did or not. The thousands of people who had the privilege of hearing his voice, watching his countenance, and seeing his heart every time he took a mic probably don't really know how blessed they were to be in his presence. I got to do it nearly every night for 17 years.
I doubt you'll ever hear his name mentioned when the list of gospel music's pioneers, innovators and great contributors is read, but knowing who Kenneth Bishop is and what he his, what his motivations are and the place that he came from, he is at the very top of mine for things even more noble. When he was younger it never dawned on him that he'd be singing on TV and on stages in front of tens of thousands. Talk to him today and he'll never tell you that he did.
A few weeks ago he sent me a copy of one of our group's most proud southern gospel achievements. Back in the late 1980s and early 1990s TNN produced and aired a show that featured Southern Gospel Music. Comedians Hicks and Cohagen hosted it, the Harper Agency coordinated the talent and Eddie Crook was the music director. The show was taped inside Studio B in Nashville, the same place they shot Hee Haw.
As a pretty young group we were beyond thrilled when we were asked to be one of the select few artists to be on the show. Then we found out that we were going to be on the very first episode! With the Cathedrals! It was nearly dizzying! It was all happening so fast... There's a really neat Singing News Magazine cover photo of the two groups playing around on the set. There's a story attached to that too. Maybe later.
While watching the video last week it occurred to me what a wonderfully stable and humble man my dad is. During the whole show I was bouncing around and exaggerating way too much, especially for TV. He and Mark stood there with pleasant written all over their faces, smiled and sang.
Last week I got another video from Dean. This one was our group's 1998 set at the National Quartet Convention in Louisville. I just put it in the player and watched it for the first time yesterday. I was actually pleasantly surprised. I usually pick our performances apart like piranha on a feeding frenzy. This time though the singing wasn't bad; our little band had it together; and the songs, mostly written by my brother Mark, were really good. On the other hand, once again I think I made way too much noise.
I don't usually get too emotional when I see things like this. I pay too much attention to the technical stuff to get bogged down with the nostalgia. I almost watch with a cringe because I know I'm probably going to embarrass myself.
This one was different. Before anything else, the thing that captured my attention was my dad's being there. There was something about him on that stage at that event in front of all of those people that struck me as amazingly beautiful. He's never given me a reason to be ashamed, but watching him hold his place and play his part that night made me feel very proud.
He deserved to be on that stage whether anyone else did or not. The thousands of people who had the privilege of hearing his voice, watching his countenance, and seeing his heart every time he took a mic probably don't really know how blessed they were to be in his presence. I got to do it nearly every night for 17 years.
I doubt you'll ever hear his name mentioned when the list of gospel music's pioneers, innovators and great contributors is read, but knowing who Kenneth Bishop is and what he his, what his motivations are and the place that he came from, he is at the very top of mine for things even more noble. When he was younger it never dawned on him that he'd be singing on TV and on stages in front of tens of thousands. Talk to him today and he'll never tell you that he did.
6.14.2008
wade
I laughed at Lucy the other day. I love Lucy. In this episode, evidently there weren't supposed to be any pets in the Ricardo apartment. So when Fred and a complaining neighbor came in to find out why they were hearing little barks Lucy tried to hide little Ricky's new puppy in the closet under a hat. You probably know the plot-line. When the puppy yelped Lucy acted like she was singing. When it barked she pretended to sneeze. When the little dog forced the closet door open and escaped it looked like the hat was creeping across the floor. She was finally able to grab the dog and stuff it inside the piano, but she had to act like a terrible player when it started clamoring across the strings. There was no way to hide the little creature that had no clue it needed to be hidden.
It sorta reminded me of a friend who is celebrating his birthday today. He's cute, playful, fun to be around and usually oblivious to all of us explaining his craziness to the peeps in the room who are sitting close enough to witness, but not near enough to understand. That's not a criticism, it's a compliment.
Happy birthday Wade! Please don't grow up.
It sorta reminded me of a friend who is celebrating his birthday today. He's cute, playful, fun to be around and usually oblivious to all of us explaining his craziness to the peeps in the room who are sitting close enough to witness, but not near enough to understand. That's not a criticism, it's a compliment.
Happy birthday Wade! Please don't grow up.
wv - going and coming
It could be dangerous for me to be sharing with you right now. Maybe a disclaimer saying something like, "Due to a lack of practical or sufficient rest, I shall not be held liable for any stupid or irrational claims or statements." It's not terribly unusual for me to get just a few hours of sleep from time to time, but for some reason I'm taking it a little harder this morning.
I sang in West Virginia last night. Gary Damron always works really hard to put on good programs there. The Coal Field Jamboree is a wonderful old theater in downtown Logan. My family and I sang there several times over the years. I have lots of memories in that place. My job last night was singing a few and serving as emcee. I enjoy that role. It gives me a chance to brag on some of my friends. Among other groups, last night I got to introduce Karen Peck and New River. Of course I had lots of good stuff to say when I brought them on. My favorite thing though about working a night with them in particular, is the conversation we enjoy back stage. I don't think I've ever spent more than a few minutes with Karen and Susan and Ricky and now Devin that we don't end up sharing some the lessons and points that God is teaching us. It usually turns to thanksgiving and worship. It's our little moment before we step into the lights.
Logan is about four hours from Lexington, and the drive is just beautiful, especially on a day like yesterday. Lots of sun, very little road construction, not a single accident to be seen, and a generous supply of peanut M&Ms. I can tolerate those conditions for half a work day. But that was the drive over.
Then I had to drive back. No sun. Still no construction, but two accidents to report. I also did a pretty poor job of rationing my candy on the way into the mountains. My self determination and discipline wouldn't allow me to indulge in another bag. The nine hour (it just seemed like it) drive back wasn't as delightful. Every time I'd see a blue sign advertising a rest area I'd say (yes, actually say out loud to no one but me), "I need to just stop and take a nap." Then I'd say to myself, "No, you'll sleep so much better in your own bed and you won't have to wake up later and drive." At this point I couldn't tell which voice was wearing the halo and which one had horns.
I did end up driving all the way home. I walked in the door around 4:00 this morning. I didn't plan to get up so early today though. The phone calls and text messages started around 7:00, so why not? Might as well get started. I have friends coming in from out of town tonight, and the house hasn't had a good, deep cleaning in at least three weeks. I'll do that today. I don't enjoy doing it, but when it's over I'm always glad I did. Sorta like the drive home last night.
I sang in West Virginia last night. Gary Damron always works really hard to put on good programs there. The Coal Field Jamboree is a wonderful old theater in downtown Logan. My family and I sang there several times over the years. I have lots of memories in that place. My job last night was singing a few and serving as emcee. I enjoy that role. It gives me a chance to brag on some of my friends. Among other groups, last night I got to introduce Karen Peck and New River. Of course I had lots of good stuff to say when I brought them on. My favorite thing though about working a night with them in particular, is the conversation we enjoy back stage. I don't think I've ever spent more than a few minutes with Karen and Susan and Ricky and now Devin that we don't end up sharing some the lessons and points that God is teaching us. It usually turns to thanksgiving and worship. It's our little moment before we step into the lights.
Logan is about four hours from Lexington, and the drive is just beautiful, especially on a day like yesterday. Lots of sun, very little road construction, not a single accident to be seen, and a generous supply of peanut M&Ms. I can tolerate those conditions for half a work day. But that was the drive over.
Then I had to drive back. No sun. Still no construction, but two accidents to report. I also did a pretty poor job of rationing my candy on the way into the mountains. My self determination and discipline wouldn't allow me to indulge in another bag. The nine hour (it just seemed like it) drive back wasn't as delightful. Every time I'd see a blue sign advertising a rest area I'd say (yes, actually say out loud to no one but me), "I need to just stop and take a nap." Then I'd say to myself, "No, you'll sleep so much better in your own bed and you won't have to wake up later and drive." At this point I couldn't tell which voice was wearing the halo and which one had horns.
I did end up driving all the way home. I walked in the door around 4:00 this morning. I didn't plan to get up so early today though. The phone calls and text messages started around 7:00, so why not? Might as well get started. I have friends coming in from out of town tonight, and the house hasn't had a good, deep cleaning in at least three weeks. I'll do that today. I don't enjoy doing it, but when it's over I'm always glad I did. Sorta like the drive home last night.
6.11.2008
reflect, relive. regret? refuse!
My "retirement" from public ministry has allowed me the new luxury of saying some formerly taboo things out loud. Back when I was living off the music I didn't feel the liberty to let people know that I fell down a lot. My "brand" was the always happy, always sure, always feisty, always got-it-together singer/minister who had enough of God in his life to avoid really human moments.
My wife had to be godly, my marriage had to be perfect, my kids had to be well behaved, my thoughts had to be holy, my clothes had to be modest, and my hair had to be trimmed. My theology had to be conservative/evangelical/Protestant/pro-American, but I couldn't be Pentecostal in Baptist churches or eternally secure in Pentecostal ones, and I had to read from the King James Version. I had to be happy to be singing regardless of where and be graciously grateful for any size honorarium. I had to be super spiritual, keep political opinons to myself, have godly answers for difficult questions, a quick response to every heckle, and a ready song or prayer for every mood. I had to remember everyone's name, wear a "natural" smile and keep my habits under control or hidden.
Really, all I had to do was stay with the script. Otherwise, who would buy my music? Even worse, who'd trust my message if they knew I was a struggling man in a struggling relationship who was really more interested in being adored by his fans than respected by his family? Would my public still love me if they knew I wore ratty shorts and dingy t-shirts and no shoes at all when I wasn't on the stage or the bus? Would it make a difference if they knew I sometimes question whether God was the one who "authorized" only one bible? Would the Baptists burn my recordings and cancel dates if they saw me worshipping with my Catholic friends?
My mistake was claiming something in public I was never able to attain in private. Even during all of those years when I was beating myself up for trying and failing I knew that there was no way I could be the person at home that I was portraying on stage.
At the risk of sounding like even more of a hypocrite's hypocrite, I want you to know that my desire to serve God and share His goodness and grace was always genuine, just not always at the forefront. Not all of my motivation was disingenuous.
Nowadays I am thrilled to be where I am doing the things I'm doing away from all of the industry expectations. There are other days that I reflect, relive, regret and refuse. I reflect on the positive impact I've had on others, and the people who will be in Heaven because God used what He had. In my reflecting I sometimes relive those moments that look so put-on now and that brings feelings of great regret. It's then that I have to refuse the temptation to beat myself up over something that cannot be changed. Besides, grace has probably fixed things that I'm not even aware of.
My wife had to be godly, my marriage had to be perfect, my kids had to be well behaved, my thoughts had to be holy, my clothes had to be modest, and my hair had to be trimmed. My theology had to be conservative/evangelical/Protestant/pro-American, but I couldn't be Pentecostal in Baptist churches or eternally secure in Pentecostal ones, and I had to read from the King James Version. I had to be happy to be singing regardless of where and be graciously grateful for any size honorarium. I had to be super spiritual, keep political opinons to myself, have godly answers for difficult questions, a quick response to every heckle, and a ready song or prayer for every mood. I had to remember everyone's name, wear a "natural" smile and keep my habits under control or hidden.
Really, all I had to do was stay with the script. Otherwise, who would buy my music? Even worse, who'd trust my message if they knew I was a struggling man in a struggling relationship who was really more interested in being adored by his fans than respected by his family? Would my public still love me if they knew I wore ratty shorts and dingy t-shirts and no shoes at all when I wasn't on the stage or the bus? Would it make a difference if they knew I sometimes question whether God was the one who "authorized" only one bible? Would the Baptists burn my recordings and cancel dates if they saw me worshipping with my Catholic friends?
My mistake was claiming something in public I was never able to attain in private. Even during all of those years when I was beating myself up for trying and failing I knew that there was no way I could be the person at home that I was portraying on stage.
At the risk of sounding like even more of a hypocrite's hypocrite, I want you to know that my desire to serve God and share His goodness and grace was always genuine, just not always at the forefront. Not all of my motivation was disingenuous.
Nowadays I am thrilled to be where I am doing the things I'm doing away from all of the industry expectations. There are other days that I reflect, relive, regret and refuse. I reflect on the positive impact I've had on others, and the people who will be in Heaven because God used what He had. In my reflecting I sometimes relive those moments that look so put-on now and that brings feelings of great regret. It's then that I have to refuse the temptation to beat myself up over something that cannot be changed. Besides, grace has probably fixed things that I'm not even aware of.
an honest living, I hope
Since I've worked in both the professional performance and political fields I've noticed quite a few similarities between the two. Like many other gospel singers and most politicians, I've lived a good deal of my adult life in public view. I can't speak for any of the above, but sometimes there is that part of me that wishes I'd never stepped on a stage.
As big a ham as I am sometimes, most days I prefer to avoid the spotlight. Maybe it's because of the scrutiny that's attached. Maybe it's just because I prefer to let others who really want it have it. I've enjoyed the applause and the pats on the back. I've had my picture taken with thousands of "fans" over the years and developed a really stylish autograph that works on just about anything. I've seen my face on TV and recordings and billboards and t-shirts and trading cards and plates and buttons and hats and more.
As much as a southern gospel singer can be famous, I have been. When the really popular peeps in the business know your name, even better, know your number, you sorta figure you're one of them. It's a place that a lot of the aspiring want to be. But if you're going to be, be careful.
Even back when our group was enjoying great success I'd ask myself from time to time if we were selling something that should be given away. Were the folks who managed our datebook really pimps? I'll say here that of the many good people we had business relationships with, the men and women at our booking agency were absolutely the most honest, reliable people of integrity of them all. Even though I brought them up, they are not the subject here.
Maybe there was something underneath everything that I wasn't aware of back then. Maybe our music, our performances and our presence was the product. Maybe it wasn't the message we were selling after all. If that's the case I feel relieved. Maybe everyone else understood it but me. Maybe I'm telling on myself for saying I really believed we were offering sacred, eternal things only to people who could afford it.
I don't question the intent of anyone who ministers professionally. I certainly can't pass final judgement on their motivations. Maybe they've successfully come to grips with making a living using music, performance and personality that just happens to speak to deeply spiritual things - sorta like the free Twinkie that you get only if you buy the other two.
I can't imagine I'm the only person who's asked these sorts of questions or had these kinds of thoughts. Maybe saying it draws attention to the elephant in the room. Maybe ignoring it allows the emperor to keep struttin' his stuff.
As big a ham as I am sometimes, most days I prefer to avoid the spotlight. Maybe it's because of the scrutiny that's attached. Maybe it's just because I prefer to let others who really want it have it. I've enjoyed the applause and the pats on the back. I've had my picture taken with thousands of "fans" over the years and developed a really stylish autograph that works on just about anything. I've seen my face on TV and recordings and billboards and t-shirts and trading cards and plates and buttons and hats and more.
As much as a southern gospel singer can be famous, I have been. When the really popular peeps in the business know your name, even better, know your number, you sorta figure you're one of them. It's a place that a lot of the aspiring want to be. But if you're going to be, be careful.
Even back when our group was enjoying great success I'd ask myself from time to time if we were selling something that should be given away. Were the folks who managed our datebook really pimps? I'll say here that of the many good people we had business relationships with, the men and women at our booking agency were absolutely the most honest, reliable people of integrity of them all. Even though I brought them up, they are not the subject here.
Maybe there was something underneath everything that I wasn't aware of back then. Maybe our music, our performances and our presence was the product. Maybe it wasn't the message we were selling after all. If that's the case I feel relieved. Maybe everyone else understood it but me. Maybe I'm telling on myself for saying I really believed we were offering sacred, eternal things only to people who could afford it.
I don't question the intent of anyone who ministers professionally. I certainly can't pass final judgement on their motivations. Maybe they've successfully come to grips with making a living using music, performance and personality that just happens to speak to deeply spiritual things - sorta like the free Twinkie that you get only if you buy the other two.
I can't imagine I'm the only person who's asked these sorts of questions or had these kinds of thoughts. Maybe saying it draws attention to the elephant in the room. Maybe ignoring it allows the emperor to keep struttin' his stuff.
6.10.2008
my kingdom for a tomato!
I love Mexican food. I'm all about the enchiladas and the tacos and the tamales and the rice and the beans. But as far as I'm concerned, the best part of the fiesta is the salsa. The way they lay that pretty basket of chips and that little dish of tomatoey goodness on the table - you'd think it was free. I've often wondered if I'd get a Spanish ear full if I didn't order anything and just ate the appetizer.
Most days I don't have time to enjoy a nice Mexican lunch. My middle-of-the-day is pretty busy, but from time to time I do have a chance to speed by my favorite Mexican-on-the-run place for the bagged version. Qdoba makes a big ol' burrito that you can get two days out of if you treat it right. It's not a bad investment if you're on a tight budget. Seven bucks for two days - not bad.
Today though we had issues. You're probably aware of the current problems America is having with tomatoes. Word is a few folks have taken ill after eating one, or at least a bite or two of one. This has prompted the folks in Washington to ban them. For our own good we're being protected from tomatoes. I'm sure the poor people who exposed the problem would've appreciated the concern a few weeks ago, and I certainly don't think of them without whispering a prayer. I'm thinking though that the move is as politically motivated as it is authentic concern.
I've got a good idea we were just couple of tomato victims away from a Bush administration critic accusing the White House of just not caring about the plight of everyday fruit and vegetable eaters. It wouldn't surprise me still to hear an angry Democrat on Fox or CNN claiming to have proof of a conspiracy. So, what else could they do but ban tomatoes. It probably saved a few businesses from lawsuits too.
Personally, I'm a tomato junkie. When I was a kid I used trot off to the garden and eat 'em right off the vine. Sometimes they'd be really warm from the summer sun when I'd pick one, wipe it with my t-shirt if I was wearing one and bite into it like an apple. Other kids flagged down the ice cream truck.
You can put a tomato on just about anything and make it better, but some things just aren't right without them. That would be salsa, and today there was none.
What I wouldn't give right now for a plump, juicy, bright red tomato.
Most days I don't have time to enjoy a nice Mexican lunch. My middle-of-the-day is pretty busy, but from time to time I do have a chance to speed by my favorite Mexican-on-the-run place for the bagged version. Qdoba makes a big ol' burrito that you can get two days out of if you treat it right. It's not a bad investment if you're on a tight budget. Seven bucks for two days - not bad.
Today though we had issues. You're probably aware of the current problems America is having with tomatoes. Word is a few folks have taken ill after eating one, or at least a bite or two of one. This has prompted the folks in Washington to ban them. For our own good we're being protected from tomatoes. I'm sure the poor people who exposed the problem would've appreciated the concern a few weeks ago, and I certainly don't think of them without whispering a prayer. I'm thinking though that the move is as politically motivated as it is authentic concern.
I've got a good idea we were just couple of tomato victims away from a Bush administration critic accusing the White House of just not caring about the plight of everyday fruit and vegetable eaters. It wouldn't surprise me still to hear an angry Democrat on Fox or CNN claiming to have proof of a conspiracy. So, what else could they do but ban tomatoes. It probably saved a few businesses from lawsuits too.
Personally, I'm a tomato junkie. When I was a kid I used trot off to the garden and eat 'em right off the vine. Sometimes they'd be really warm from the summer sun when I'd pick one, wipe it with my t-shirt if I was wearing one and bite into it like an apple. Other kids flagged down the ice cream truck.
You can put a tomato on just about anything and make it better, but some things just aren't right without them. That would be salsa, and today there was none.
What I wouldn't give right now for a plump, juicy, bright red tomato.
6.09.2008
kirk
It had to be back around 1989 or 1990 the first time I remember meeting Kirk. I'd heard the Cathedral Quartet sing "Step Into the Water" and gillion times, and thought the guy singing tenor was awesome. But I never really paid close attention to who was writing and who was singing back then unless it was somebody named Rambo.
Kirk and Roger are brothers. Debra is Roger's wife. When Kirk left the Cathedrals in 1983 Roger and Debra left the group they were singing with and put together a group called the Talleys. They worked as the opening act for a lot of the Cathedrals shows. This put them in front of lots and lots of people right off the new bat, and these were the most loyal of gospel music fans.
About six years later, after he heard our group perform at an awards show, Glen Payne of the Cathedral Quartet asked the group's booking agent to start scheduling our group, the Bishops, on as many of their dates as possible. The very first one was in Dayton, Ohio at the Memorial Hall. It was a big place with a real neat history in gospel music. All the biggies had sung here, and here we were on the bill with the Cathedrals and their warm-up act. I don't know if it ever occurred to me that we were there to be the warm up to the warm up. It didn't matter though. This was one of our first opportunities to play in the big leagues.
Two very distinct things I remember about that night. George Younce took it upon himself to mentor and teach us young'ns like we were his own children. We sat around his chair backstage and listened to years of wisdom until the building manager said time was up.
I also met Kirk Talley that night. Through his crazy life and mine we've remained dear friends. Only the honestly broken can really recognize others who are there or on the edge. That's why some never get it. They've never been broken honestly. (Ask me what the difference is.)
Today is Kirk's birthday. Twenty years of doing your thing has been good to you and wonderful for us. Happy birthday! I hope all of your surprises are really, really good ones.
Kirk and Roger are brothers. Debra is Roger's wife. When Kirk left the Cathedrals in 1983 Roger and Debra left the group they were singing with and put together a group called the Talleys. They worked as the opening act for a lot of the Cathedrals shows. This put them in front of lots and lots of people right off the new bat, and these were the most loyal of gospel music fans.
About six years later, after he heard our group perform at an awards show, Glen Payne of the Cathedral Quartet asked the group's booking agent to start scheduling our group, the Bishops, on as many of their dates as possible. The very first one was in Dayton, Ohio at the Memorial Hall. It was a big place with a real neat history in gospel music. All the biggies had sung here, and here we were on the bill with the Cathedrals and their warm-up act. I don't know if it ever occurred to me that we were there to be the warm up to the warm up. It didn't matter though. This was one of our first opportunities to play in the big leagues.
Two very distinct things I remember about that night. George Younce took it upon himself to mentor and teach us young'ns like we were his own children. We sat around his chair backstage and listened to years of wisdom until the building manager said time was up.
I also met Kirk Talley that night. Through his crazy life and mine we've remained dear friends. Only the honestly broken can really recognize others who are there or on the edge. That's why some never get it. They've never been broken honestly. (Ask me what the difference is.)
Today is Kirk's birthday. Twenty years of doing your thing has been good to you and wonderful for us. Happy birthday! I hope all of your surprises are really, really good ones.
when did this happen??
I had to take Christian back home last night. For the record, this is the absolute most difficult part of my life. The drive from my place to his is about an hour. We always enjoy that part of the ride that we get to spend together, but when I drop him off and I pull away from that house where he sleeps and lives and does homework the task becomes trying not to cry.
I usually do things to distract myself. Sometimes the radio does the job. Sometimes I roll down all of the windows. I love the wind in the truck. At least until a bug or a bee decides to join. Then the drive gets really crazy. One of us has to go, and it's my truck. I knew a guy once who was doing the same thing with all the windows down and an owl flew into his car! I think the bird won that one.
It's while I was driving home last night that a couple of things occurred to me. First off, Blake Shelton's version of "Home" is almost identical to Michael Buble's. Second, locusts only work the first shift, crickets take second and third. Third (ok, so more than a couple), we're already at that time of year when it doesn't get completely dark until almost 10:00 at night - at least around here.
I'm gonna lobby my congressman to do something about time. In my opinion this summer is coming and going way too quickly. Didn't we just set our clocks ahead a week or so ago? Didn't we just cover the plants so the frost wouldn't bite? My back is still a little sore from all the leaf raking. It couldn't have been that long ago.
The guy who promises to slow things down gets my vote for president.
Christian's voice is deeper than mine now. He asked to use my razor this past weekend! Casie has been driving for almost four years. She's declaring a major soon. When did this happen?
I usually do things to distract myself. Sometimes the radio does the job. Sometimes I roll down all of the windows. I love the wind in the truck. At least until a bug or a bee decides to join. Then the drive gets really crazy. One of us has to go, and it's my truck. I knew a guy once who was doing the same thing with all the windows down and an owl flew into his car! I think the bird won that one.
It's while I was driving home last night that a couple of things occurred to me. First off, Blake Shelton's version of "Home" is almost identical to Michael Buble's. Second, locusts only work the first shift, crickets take second and third. Third (ok, so more than a couple), we're already at that time of year when it doesn't get completely dark until almost 10:00 at night - at least around here.
I'm gonna lobby my congressman to do something about time. In my opinion this summer is coming and going way too quickly. Didn't we just set our clocks ahead a week or so ago? Didn't we just cover the plants so the frost wouldn't bite? My back is still a little sore from all the leaf raking. It couldn't have been that long ago.
The guy who promises to slow things down gets my vote for president.
Christian's voice is deeper than mine now. He asked to use my razor this past weekend! Casie has been driving for almost four years. She's declaring a major soon. When did this happen?
6.07.2008
not today, at least not yet
Yesterday was so inspiring. I woke up early with lots of enthusiasm for getting things done. The day ended up being pretty productive. I'm not doing as well today.
I was supposed to sell all of my unneeded worldly goods in a yard sale today. Some friends across town are having one with all of their neighbors. It's their annual community come-and-get-it-yard-sale-weekend. I was asked to bring my stuff and join them.
So I got up into the attic yesterday and rifled through a couple of dozen boxes. I found all kinds of neat stuff, most of it that I'd forgotten about. I've not really lived here long enough for anything to be a too distant memory, but I did run across a few things that brought back some sweet feelings. It's hard to let things go when your emotions are attached to them. But packing them away in the attic is no way to treat them either. Besides, I need the room and the cash.
So, after spending a couple of hours getting it all down, it occurred to me around one o'clock this morning that if I'm gonna get this stuff cleaned up and properly priced I'm going to have to stay up all night long. The official start time was 6:30 IN THE MORNING! Time was running out. I started asking God for rain. Surely they had a rain date. Maybe a week's worth of delay will give me the time I need. I finally gave up around 2:30 this morning.
No luck on the rain. It was a selfish thought anyway. But I've decided to wait still. My mom and some of my sisters-in-law are going to have a yard sale of their own in a week or two. I'll pack my goods in the truck and make like Mr. Haney then.
Since I begged off on the sale this morning, I decided to try to get in some writing. I've been feeling inspired lately, and that is the best time to put the pen to work. So I took my stuff back down to the lake for a little quiet writing time. Strike two.
While I was down at the dock a neighbor came by to chat. I told him I was working on some songs and came to the water for inspiration. It usually works. The breeze, the ripple of the waves, the ducks and geese, the sun... I didn't feel it today though. I was telling him how lots of song writers can sit in a writing room and know just the right thing to put on the paper. I've done it that way, but I always feel it more natural in a place like this. I'm not sure why I wasn't feeling it today, but I'm not going to push it. The message is too sacred.
Since my son Christian is hanging with me this weekend we're gonna do something fun. We may go to the park to walk. Well, I'll walk while he rides the bike. We'll throw the baseball, maybe shoot some hoops, toss the Frisbee, see a movie later. Who knows...
I was supposed to sell all of my unneeded worldly goods in a yard sale today. Some friends across town are having one with all of their neighbors. It's their annual community come-and-get-it-yard-sale-weekend. I was asked to bring my stuff and join them.
So I got up into the attic yesterday and rifled through a couple of dozen boxes. I found all kinds of neat stuff, most of it that I'd forgotten about. I've not really lived here long enough for anything to be a too distant memory, but I did run across a few things that brought back some sweet feelings. It's hard to let things go when your emotions are attached to them. But packing them away in the attic is no way to treat them either. Besides, I need the room and the cash.
So, after spending a couple of hours getting it all down, it occurred to me around one o'clock this morning that if I'm gonna get this stuff cleaned up and properly priced I'm going to have to stay up all night long. The official start time was 6:30 IN THE MORNING! Time was running out. I started asking God for rain. Surely they had a rain date. Maybe a week's worth of delay will give me the time I need. I finally gave up around 2:30 this morning.
No luck on the rain. It was a selfish thought anyway. But I've decided to wait still. My mom and some of my sisters-in-law are going to have a yard sale of their own in a week or two. I'll pack my goods in the truck and make like Mr. Haney then.
Since I begged off on the sale this morning, I decided to try to get in some writing. I've been feeling inspired lately, and that is the best time to put the pen to work. So I took my stuff back down to the lake for a little quiet writing time. Strike two.
While I was down at the dock a neighbor came by to chat. I told him I was working on some songs and came to the water for inspiration. It usually works. The breeze, the ripple of the waves, the ducks and geese, the sun... I didn't feel it today though. I was telling him how lots of song writers can sit in a writing room and know just the right thing to put on the paper. I've done it that way, but I always feel it more natural in a place like this. I'm not sure why I wasn't feeling it today, but I'm not going to push it. The message is too sacred.
Since my son Christian is hanging with me this weekend we're gonna do something fun. We may go to the park to walk. Well, I'll walk while he rides the bike. We'll throw the baseball, maybe shoot some hoops, toss the Frisbee, see a movie later. Who knows...
6.06.2008
friday morning this and that
Today's thoughts are a bit hodgepodgy. (not even a word)
Knowing last night that I didn't have to get up super early this morning meant that I could look forward to sleeping in a bit today. Not so though. Like usual, I woke up early. I usually can't get back to sleep when that happens. I've tried, but my busy mind and nervous energy won't let me. It worked out well though. I always feel like I've missed the most creative, productive and energizing part of the day if I sleep past 7:30 or 8:00. Since the pace was a bit slower, I enjoyed coffee and breakfast, the newspaper (online), Chris Brown on the Today Show, and a good couple of hours of song writing.
My favorite place to write is at the lake. Being able to take my pad and pen and recorder down to the water is very refreshing to me. It's about a one minute walk to the dock, and the breeze this morning was fairly brisk, which was good considering it was already nearly 80 degrees by 8:30. I've had a couple of strong ideas bouncing around in my head and in my writer's pad for a few days now. This morning was a great chance to do something with them. One song is coming across a bit angry though, so I'm backing away, but plan to come back to it later with fresh eyes and hopefully more compassion.
I'll get to spend this weekend with my kids. YEA! I'm gonna run pick up Christian later this afternoon, and Casie told me last night she's hoping to come hang out with me tomorrow. I always get excited when I know I'll get to be a daddy in person.
Some friends are participating in their community yard sale tomorrow. They've invited us to bring our stuff and play too. I need to get up into the attic and get all of my unsold left overs from last year back out and ready for the market again. Surely someone has a use for a ceiling fan with a missing blade - or two. I can probably find a few old Bishops albums too. I'm not a yard sale shopping fan, but I'll sell my old stuff to anyone who is.
I'm singing in Frankfort, Kentucky this Sunday morning. A friend of mine who is a former co-worker is the pastor there. Several weeks ago he asked me if I'd come sing a few songs during their Sunday morning worship. It'll be fun.
I've invited all of my MySpace friends to come join us here. The environment is a little less cluttered, and I am able to share a bit more freely in this space. So, welcome MySpacers!!
Told ya it was hodgepodgy. (still not a word)
Knowing last night that I didn't have to get up super early this morning meant that I could look forward to sleeping in a bit today. Not so though. Like usual, I woke up early. I usually can't get back to sleep when that happens. I've tried, but my busy mind and nervous energy won't let me. It worked out well though. I always feel like I've missed the most creative, productive and energizing part of the day if I sleep past 7:30 or 8:00. Since the pace was a bit slower, I enjoyed coffee and breakfast, the newspaper (online), Chris Brown on the Today Show, and a good couple of hours of song writing.
My favorite place to write is at the lake. Being able to take my pad and pen and recorder down to the water is very refreshing to me. It's about a one minute walk to the dock, and the breeze this morning was fairly brisk, which was good considering it was already nearly 80 degrees by 8:30. I've had a couple of strong ideas bouncing around in my head and in my writer's pad for a few days now. This morning was a great chance to do something with them. One song is coming across a bit angry though, so I'm backing away, but plan to come back to it later with fresh eyes and hopefully more compassion.
I'll get to spend this weekend with my kids. YEA! I'm gonna run pick up Christian later this afternoon, and Casie told me last night she's hoping to come hang out with me tomorrow. I always get excited when I know I'll get to be a daddy in person.
Some friends are participating in their community yard sale tomorrow. They've invited us to bring our stuff and play too. I need to get up into the attic and get all of my unsold left overs from last year back out and ready for the market again. Surely someone has a use for a ceiling fan with a missing blade - or two. I can probably find a few old Bishops albums too. I'm not a yard sale shopping fan, but I'll sell my old stuff to anyone who is.
I'm singing in Frankfort, Kentucky this Sunday morning. A friend of mine who is a former co-worker is the pastor there. Several weeks ago he asked me if I'd come sing a few songs during their Sunday morning worship. It'll be fun.
I've invited all of my MySpace friends to come join us here. The environment is a little less cluttered, and I am able to share a bit more freely in this space. So, welcome MySpacers!!
Told ya it was hodgepodgy. (still not a word)
6.05.2008
parkin' and bikin'
My friend Joel Lindsey (see the link to the right) has been enjoying life in California. On his blog/journal he tells us about the sun, the sand, the ocean, the palms, the mountains and the tucked away towns he gets to pass through on his journeys. It really sounds a lot like Kentucky to me, minus the sand and the ocean and the palms. OK, so Joel gets to play everyday in places that I only get to visit. I'm not gonna say no fair 'cause I know how hard he's worked to be where he is. Of course, it's not like he's retired or anything. He's writing and doing business as hard as ever, just in sunny southern California.
Today he wrote about the crazy cost of gas out there. It looks like he's paying about a half a dollar more for a gallon that I am. He also mentioned parking his car and straddling the bike more. That's what I've been doing. I work too far from home to ride my bike, so the truck takes me to the office and back. But when I get home and throw the keys on the counter I don't pick 'em up until the sun has had a chance to set and dawn again. My trips to the market and the post office and most everywhere else are made on the bicycle. I even bike to the park where I do my nightly walk.
I like Joel. He's fun AND classy. He's a remarkable song writer and a dynamic encourager. He's also smart. He's parking the car.
P.S. Scroll on down for my solution to the butt-ugly gas problem.
P.P.S. If someone wants to donate a motorcycle I can park the truck for good.
Today he wrote about the crazy cost of gas out there. It looks like he's paying about a half a dollar more for a gallon that I am. He also mentioned parking his car and straddling the bike more. That's what I've been doing. I work too far from home to ride my bike, so the truck takes me to the office and back. But when I get home and throw the keys on the counter I don't pick 'em up until the sun has had a chance to set and dawn again. My trips to the market and the post office and most everywhere else are made on the bicycle. I even bike to the park where I do my nightly walk.
I like Joel. He's fun AND classy. He's a remarkable song writer and a dynamic encourager. He's also smart. He's parking the car.
P.S. Scroll on down for my solution to the butt-ugly gas problem.
P.P.S. If someone wants to donate a motorcycle I can park the truck for good.
in the morning...
Early morning is my favorite time to create, especially if I've had good rest the night before. I can tell the difference too. If I've tossed a lot or if I had to get up in the middle of the night (you know why) and my rest has been interrupted I wake up less inclined to write happy or positive thoughts. The songs I work on at those times seem to be less about God and more about me.
When I'm tired or my mood is down I also tend to think angrier thoughts about I'm-holier-than-you-Christians who want to keep God all to themselves.
Waking up refreshed and alive makes me feel as though I have something to contribute, something that might just help someone somewhere with something. With millions of voices and just as many songwriters and journalers, I'm sure my words or ideas won't be the loudest or most clever, or even the most effective, but maybe a thought expressed with a melody or in a writing can be coupled with someone else's or more to form an assurance to the person who needs some love.
I slept well last night. I'm anxious to see what develops.
When I'm tired or my mood is down I also tend to think angrier thoughts about I'm-holier-than-you-Christians who want to keep God all to themselves.
Waking up refreshed and alive makes me feel as though I have something to contribute, something that might just help someone somewhere with something. With millions of voices and just as many songwriters and journalers, I'm sure my words or ideas won't be the loudest or most clever, or even the most effective, but maybe a thought expressed with a melody or in a writing can be coupled with someone else's or more to form an assurance to the person who needs some love.
I slept well last night. I'm anxious to see what develops.
6.03.2008
the wind in my hair
These outrageous gas prices have been good for my health lately. Unless it is absolutely necessary to drive the truck, I've been using bike to get my errands done. I'm actually starting to like it now that my tail bone is getting used to it. I always feel invigorated after a good ride, and I'm doing something about that gosh awful carbon footprint. Of course the dollar savings are pretty sweet too.
As many times as I've driven the roads of Lexington, Kentucky, there is so much I've never noticed before. For one thing, things look much crisper and detailed at fifteen miles an hour. You see more and notice more when you travel slow. Some of it is good. Some of it is not.
You smell things on an open bike that you don't in a closed up truck or car. Charcoal grills and blossoms and dog poop come to mind. And unless all your vehicle is geared down really low and all the windows are down you don't hear the kids in the park or the birds in the trees or the neighbor's on the porch.
It's like all of the senses that have been dulled by the radio and the air conditioning and the cell phone come alive again when you get out in the open spaces. The same old street looks a lot different.
The exercise is good. The quietness is good. The aromas and sounds and sights are marvelous. I think the thing I like most about parking the car and puttin' it on two wheels is the wind in my hair.
As many times as I've driven the roads of Lexington, Kentucky, there is so much I've never noticed before. For one thing, things look much crisper and detailed at fifteen miles an hour. You see more and notice more when you travel slow. Some of it is good. Some of it is not.
You smell things on an open bike that you don't in a closed up truck or car. Charcoal grills and blossoms and dog poop come to mind. And unless all your vehicle is geared down really low and all the windows are down you don't hear the kids in the park or the birds in the trees or the neighbor's on the porch.
It's like all of the senses that have been dulled by the radio and the air conditioning and the cell phone come alive again when you get out in the open spaces. The same old street looks a lot different.
The exercise is good. The quietness is good. The aromas and sounds and sights are marvelous. I think the thing I like most about parking the car and puttin' it on two wheels is the wind in my hair.
6.01.2008
paulo
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!!
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!!
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!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)