today

On November 21st of 1963 no one had a reason to believe that they'd remember tomorrow so well. If the people in charge of security for President Kennedy knew the next day's headline they'd have probably done some things very differently. December 7, 1941 started out remarkably like the day before, but once it got underway it seemed it would never end, and it didn't really until V-Day three and a half years later. It still hasn't ended for some.

Unless it was a personally significant time, most folks can't tell you much about September 10, 2001. But our memories become very sharp and clear when we recall the next day. Thinking first that a plane had veered off course and into one of the tall World Trade Center buildings in Lower Manhattan, we felt sadness for the unfortunate passengers, crew and occupants. But we didn't feel threatened, not right away, not where most of us lived.

It was my first day on a new job, so once word circulated through the hallways that something big was happening, I joined about a dozen brand new coworkers in a Lexington, Kentucky office building watching the morning move in slow motion on a big screen TV that was usually used for company presentations. Reporters were saying that they knew nothing for sure, not even the size of the plane that accidentally hit the building or how it could've veered so badly off course. Several where I was were on their cell phones checking in on family. Then, when we saw on live television the second plane hit the second building and it dawned on us that the first one was probably just as big and just as deliberate, we were speechless and all of the sudden afraid.

All the speculation and questions and eye witness reporting that was going on on the ground and in the studios and news rooms was only adding to the anxiety. We had a feeling it was our whole nation that was being attacked, but we knew too that the most personal and painful wounds were several hundreds of miles away. Our fear couldn't equal their hurt.

As the morning crept along we learned of two more hijacked planes, one that targeted the Pentagon, and another that was bravely taken over by a group of selfless men and women who refused to live any longer if it meant injuring their country. By the end of the day the skies were completely and eerily silent. People were praying. Our leaders were planning, and the images of what should've been a forgetful day were etched deep enough to never be erased.

pigs and lipstick, boy!

Way back decades ago when this current presidential race thing was first getting started one of our US congressmen here in Kentucky took a few licks on the chin and eventually apologized for referring to Senator Barack Obama as "boy." I know Congressman Davis. He is in no way whatsoever a racist and in fact has little tolerance for anyone who is. The context of his remarks, given during a political rally speech, were not intended to be racist, but were immediately grabbed and distorted by some who wanted to discredit his person (he was running for reelection) for their own political advantage. So, even knowing that he meant nothing even remotely bigoted, he offered his regrets just so he could move on and win the election. And he did.

What? What did he say? Did she just say what I thought she said? Did he mean to say that - that way? Oh no he di-unt!! Semantics and accusations of meaning and taking one word of one sentence of one paragraph of one speech completely out of context seems to be in super abundance during this presidential race. The finger pointing is beginning to come across as childish and whiny to me. Both campaigns are doing it. The political commentators are doing it. The bloggers are doing it. And sadly, people at the water cooler are doing it.

Yesterday Senator Obama said something about a pig and lipstick. The McCain/Palin folks screamed foul. They say Barack was referring to the lady governor. He says he wasn't, it was a reference to trying to dress up the same old way of doing things in Washington. The M/P folks should know that. Their candidate used the same exact phrase several months ago when they thought he'd be running against Hillary. If she was offended I don't remember hearing about it.

It's mostly hypocrisy. A few days ago former president Jimmy Carter was in the middle of an interview when he does exactly what Geoff Davis from Kentucky did. The same people who kicked and screamed and accused the congressman of practically carrying a kkk card did a nervous cough, turned their heads and pretended they didn't hear anything. To be fair, it really ought to be a goose/gander sort of thing.

Parsing words is one of the things about campaigns that frustrates me. We want the candidates to be honest and frank. Yet, they are not allowed to say what they mean in a direct way for fear of being taken completely out of context. It's getting to the point that no one in public service can say anything that might maybe even in the most remote way be possibly considered somewhat or even just a little bit something that could be turned inside-out or vaguely not nice.

leave room for the holy ghost

It seemed pretty normal to me. I remember as a youngster going to church and seeing older men and women who were married to each other sitting on opposite sides of the building. It wasn't like they were fighting or anything. That was just a tradition that started way back when and they didn't see a need to personally change it. Another tradition in our church was having the whole congregation kneel at the altar that stretched across the front of the sanctuary. I remember the first time I went up and took a wrong turn. I was gently directed by an older woman to the men's side. I wasn't offended, but if I'd been paying attention I would've known. It also didn't occur to me when I hugged my nice, lady Sunday School teacher that we just didn't do that sort of thing. And if we did we certainly had to leave room for the holy ghost.

Our church also practiced foot washing. It goes back to Jesus' point when he told his disciples that they should be servants willing to do the most humbling of tasks for their fellow man. Since he did this the same time he served them the cup and the bread, we felt we should follow his example and do the same thing from time to time. So, about three or four times a year we'd schedule a foot-washing service. But we didn't believe in mixed bathing, so the women would go to one room, the men to another and we'd wash away.

Maybe it's because of those experiences that it seemed a little uncomfortable to me to watch Senator John McCain wrap his arms around Governor Sarah Palin the other night - and a few times since then. I've seen Barack and Joe Biden hug and it didn't bother me. And even though it was forced, it didn't seem strange when Senators Obama and Clinton locked in awkward embrace a time or two. Maybe it's because she is a more manly woman.

I was wondering if anyone else had noticed the GOP hugs when I read a piece somewhere yesterday - on AOL I think. The etiquette experts were talking about what is appropriate and what isn't. I forget what they said. Something like an extended arm hug is ok as long as the arms are horizontal and not locked or something like that. Back in the mid-eighties when we had our very first mixed gender ticket Walter hardly ever touched Geraldine. But then again, we weren't that far past Ricky and Lucy sleeping under the same blanket either.

I don't have issues with a presidential candidate and his running mate hugging - as long as Cindy and Mr. Palin are fine with it.

rent - one last time

I'm a RENT junkie. Actually, that's probably not the best way to describe my fascination with the musical-turned-movie-but-never-left-Broadway-until-it-closed-this-past-weekend. But I am a fan, and now I'm sad. One of the most impacting and emotional dramas to know that stage has ended its run. Anyone who didn't get to see it has really missed out.

Back a couple of years or so ago I wrote about the impact this genious piece of theater had had on me. It reminded me of the smallness of my thinking and my own world. It also reminded me of the first words my daughter said to me when we stepped off the subway and she really saw New York City for the first time. "Dad, look at all of the different kinds of people." We made our way to the Nederlander Theater to see the show before we left town. It had an impact on her too.

You'd have to click way on back in this journal to find my earlier thoughts on RENT. So, if you'll indulge me, I'm gonna repeat my original post from December 31, 2005.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

*Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes,

Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes,

How do we measure, measure a year?

We have some great opportunities ahead of us. A whole new year with fresh months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and even seconds to do something meaningful and life-changing. How exciting is that? But maybe I'm jumping the gun.

I've never seen the Broadway play Rent. But I have seen the movie version, and I really liked it. I loved the music, and the talents of the actors/singers/musicians/dancers left me jealous and inspired. To me the story-line was dark, sort of depressing and mostly presented only one side of some pretty serious issues. But the lessons learned while I looked in on the gritty lives of a group of struggling but determined friends were invaluable. The presentation was very in-your-face, and the way some of the issues are raised and handled may go against your ideas and convictions. But I'd recommend catching it if you think you can see these characters as living real life in a real world. You'll either feel deep compassion for them in their struggles, or as one of my notable Christian friends said, "They brought their problems on themselves. They were just reaping the fruits of their lifestyles."

Distrust for the system, abundant trust in each other, dedication to their beliefs, and unconditional love among friends were the more obvious points I gathered while in the theater. You couldn't miss the obvious bonds that were formed among those who were living a tough, unforgiving inner city life together. Death, disease and disdain from the "normal" world were very real. But the less obvious thought that kept crossing my mind was how all of these characters seemed to value and treasure their time together. It's like they knew their days and opportunities were limited, so they took full advantage of every moment. Thus the song, "Seasons of Love," and the lyrics about all the minutes.

This brings me back to the great opportunities that are ahead of us. Imagine our minutes were the talents Jesus spoke about in Matthew 25. The Master has trusted you with something very valuable. So, this year you and I will have 12 months or 52 weeks or 365 days or 8,760 hours or 525,600 minutes or 31,536,000 seconds to risk ourselves while we show charity and mercy to those who need it most, or we can waste every moment on protecting what we have for one more year. I'd like to be able to look back at this time in 2006 and say I invested and spent my minutes wisely - measured in love.

Seasons of Love
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes,
How do we measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee,
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes.
How do we measure a year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes.
How do we measure the life of a woman or a man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried,
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.
It’s time now to sing out tho’ the story never ends.
Let’s celebrate! Remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love.
Remember the love.
Remember the love.
Measure the love.
Measure the love.
Seasons of love.
Seasons of love.

*Seasons of Love from Rent by Jonathan Larson

rnc 3

I'll be honest. I didn't watch much of the Republican's convention last night. I did see Senator McCain's acceptance speech, but as much as I tried to tune in early and follow along with the others, I got bored. Maybe it was two back-to-back weeks of convention coverage that finally filled my political tank.

I like John McCain. I like his no nonsense approach that looks the political establishment in the eye and doesn't blink. Of course, that got him beat when he ran against George W. Bush back about eight and a half years ago. But evidently now we see it as an admirable attribute. Maybe folks are starting to realize that someone who appeals to both political senses makes political sense. But I have friends who feel the same way about Barack Obama.

Senator McCain will tell you that he's not a speech giver as much as he's a town-hall mixer. A lot of people were talking about his need to live up to the RNC speeches of the night before, especially the one given by his new running mate. But at this point, if he did anything remarkably different the people who supported him before would wonder where he'd been or if they voted for someone they didn't recognize. And it's not always about scoring. There's an old saying in politics, although it's most generally true when you're comfortably up in the polls, "Sometimes success is just holding your ground." I think he did exactly what he needed to do to fire up his peeps. He stuck to his message 'til the big balloons hit the ground.

Here we goooo.....

rnc 2

I had friends at the Democratic National Convention who called and sent me text messages while they political partied in Denver. It was neat getting their perspective from the actual dance floor. I have friends doing the same thing from Minneapolis this week. They're keeping me in the loop on the goings on with the Republicans there. Both said it was electric and exciting and almost spiritual to be in such a place with so many like minded people. I'd expect it to be. It's like corporate worship or mybe more like a mob. It's hard not to feel something.

I ran into a neighbor yesterday afternoon. She and I were talking about this out-of-the-blue governor from way, way out west who magically appeared as John McCain's VP choice. Neither of us knew enough about her to talk intelligently. My initial reaction of course was hoping that she wasn't picked JUST because she is a she. For her to be viable, there needs to be something substantial to her. She'd have a chance to state her case in a major way on the big stage, but sharing the microphone with some of the most clever political talkers in the world would give her even more to live up to.

I remember once standing backstage in a big auditorium waiting for our singing group to be introduced. What happens just before the announcer calls your name is very important. That person sets the stage and the mood and determines whether your first two or three songs are gonna be heard or wasted. This particular night was a booger. The emcee left a lot of the work to us. Just before he brought us to the stage he told this terribly sad story about something I can't even remember now. I do remember though having to dig our way out of a very depressing hole for the first song or two or three. On the opposite side though is when the person on the stage just before you steals the show and runs off with it.

Rudy Giuliani is one of my political heroes. He knows how to inspire even his enemies. If I thought I had to follow him on the stage I'd be having nightmares. How in the world would you do it? Rudy notwithstanding, I think the speech delivered by the brand-new-to-everyone-but-Alaska candidate for vice president was a home run. She introduced us to her family and her upbringing and her experience. She did the job of the lower ticket candidate by going after the opposition. Joe Biden is going to have to do the same eventually. That's part of the job description. It allows the guys at the top of the ticket to "stay above the fray" and appear more honorable. Part of Senator Biden's problem though is how to hit a woman without looking like a bully (or a sissy).

So, even though the person in charge of her official nomination didn't even know her name, Governor Palin took her only chance at a first impression and ran with it. (The night of her speech, I was on edge up to the moment the announcer pronounced it right. "Ladies and Gentleman, the Governor of Alaska... Sarah Palin.") Mayor Giuliani did his usual thing. So did Mike Huckabee and Mitt Romney. Then it was left to the people who take over the TV after the speech to tell us what they really said.

rnc 1

OK, good call on toning down the first night of the big political convention. Caring for the needy from the dance floor isn't very convincing. I don't think anyone on the sinking Titanic was reassured of their safety when the music played on. OK again, bad comparison. The storm damage on the gulf coast wasn't as bad as a doomed ship, but you get the point. Bringing the first lady and Mrs. McCain out together was a good thing too. Their quiet encouragement and pleasant demeanor was reassuring. But, knowing the political managers behind the scenes, I can only imagine the hand wringing and strategic maneuvering going on to get things back to original business as soon as possible. Considering that no political convention has ever been held this late in the year, I can see why they were so anxious. Tick-tock, tick tock...

So when business got underway on night two it was political convention as usual. And it should've been. The Democrats had a full week to read their script. The Republicans deserved the same opportunity. What was really cool this night though was having a man like Joe Lieberman, who was once in this party's direct line of fire, stand on a GOP stage and be so respected and welcomed. I thought it was nice. He said some great things too. He seems to be such a uniter, but on things that can be compromised on.

Political conventions are supposed to be loud and crazy. Speeches at political conventions are supposed to be raucous and constantly interrupted by chants and slogans. But when Fred Thompson took the stage and began sharing the story of the wounded and captured John McCain, it got just as crazily quiet. I got text messages from a couple of my friends, a Repub and a Dem. They were both moved by his words. He gave such a passionate, entertaining, compelling and emotional account of naval aviator McCain's time as a prisoner of war. He admitted that this doesn't qualify anyone as the free world's leader, but surviving to serve as now Senator McCain does is still pretty remarkable I think. The images formed by the words of a skilled orator can be riveting. Of course, Fred got into the nitty-gritty partisan stuff too. I thought he had some really clever gentle slaps for the opposition.

The only thing that sorta distracted me was the slow-mo waving flag on the huge screen behind the podium. It gave the illusion that the talker was on some sort of moving stage. The wide shots reminded me of that old Patton movie. I wondered what happened to that gargantuan screen they used at the Olympics. Then there was the guy in the audience who kept yelling, no screaming, "Yeah!!" all night long. I don't know why I heard him above the other 25,000 people in the room except that the Kentucky delegation had really good seats toward the front (courtesy of Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell) and I know a guy here who is very politically active and screams at our rallies all the time.

In my opinion it was a cautiously good night for the Republicans. President Bush stopped in via video to say hello. Laura Bush is always a pleasure. I'm really, really anxious now to hear from the Alaska governor.

dnc 3

That was a big ol' place where Senator Barack Obama talked last night. History was probably made on at least a few levels I think. I doubt that a candidate has ever accepted his party's nomination for president live in front of so many people. I doubt that so many people have ever had to be so intensely magnetronned, wanded, secured and frisked before - at least here in our country. And of course, for the first time ever, a major political party has nominated an African-American as its candidate. I'm proud of what we've accomplished in that regard. The fireworks were appropriate I think.

I sorta got annoyed at all of the uber-conservatives and talk-too-muches who spent a whole day making an issue of the staging at the stadium. Of all the substantive issues to take on, they snipped at the columns and the flooring the man would stand on. I'm all about discussing platforms, but the one the party adopts matters most to me.

I didn't get to see the doings live. I was occupied with other things and had to watch it later. Not sure why, but it was sort of deflating knowing that I wasn't witnessing things as they were happening. I made it a point to not read the spin or the punditry before I listened for myself. I prefer to be my own filter when it comes to politics. Mainly because I haven't found anyone else who has my eclectic point of political view.

About the speech, I'm always impressed when I hear Barack Obama speak. He is inspiring and motivating. He causes me to think not only about what I think, but why I think what I think. He inspires me to examine some of the things I've said I believe in. I'm not saying I've changed my mind on much of anything, but it's always good to know what your foundation is. I know people who are Republican or Democrat and can't even tell you why, other than that they didn't know there was a choice. "Daddy said we're poor so we must be Democrats." "The preacher said Jesus was a Republican."

Senator Obama said some really good things. At times I nodded and agreed and even applauded his ideas. I loved it when he took that candidate stance with the proper and deliberate trigger words. Then he started quoting Scripture and went into his "preacher cadence." I was imagining the "amens!" and the "that's rights!" from the faithful. But even as the politician I thought he offered something for the millions who live week-to-week fearing a simple illness. Then there are those of us who worry about another military attack. I get conflicted.

It was a big event for sure. In politics everything is choreographed to the smallest detail. The proportion of confetti; the color of the fireworks; the song that immediately follows the strategically delivered last line of the speech; the timing of the family, then the running mate on the stage; the waves and who stands where. I thought it was cute that the whole Obama family wardrobe was color coordinated. Someone was clever.

I get lots of inquiries from folks who want to know my thoughts on politics in general and the presidential race in particular. I'm gonna give the Republicans a chance to talk next week. Then I'll open the floor for questions.

dnc 2

There for a minute I wasn't sure if the video was a tribute or a lead in. Then, when it was over she walked out on that stage like she was really the candidate, strolling from one side to the other, waving to everyone and pointing to a select few. Her trademark pant suit and determination to let the crowd cheer as long as they wanted. The only thing missing was the confetti. I thought it was kinda neat.

I know quite a few folks who don't like her, but you didn't have to to feel that Hillary Clinton fired up the party faithful at the Democratic National Convention in Denver last night. She gave the kind of speech that die hard partisans love to hear. One of my jobs in past political campaigns has been to coach and advise the candidate on delivery, body language and staging. Somebody else was responsible for the message and substance. In my past professional opinion, Hillary did well last night.

I flipped through the channels and spent a few minutes on every network in our local cable lineup that was covering the convention. I wanted to see how each one approached the event. The big three didn't jump in until later in the night, but it was all DNC all the time for all the others that make news their business - and a few others. I don't ever remember BET covering a political convention before. It'll be interesting to see if they spend as much time with the other party next week.

There are so many talkers on TV these days. CNN has their "analysts," Fox News has their "contributors." ABC, CBS and every one of the NBC networks all have their "political experts." The competition among them is as crazy to watch as the official stuff we tuned in for. All of them, especially the two angry ones, are jockeying for bragging rights and camera time with the important peeps. I think CNN won out this time. Their set up is in the middle of the convention floor with a perfect view of the stage and unrestricted access to the VIPs. FOX is about a mile above the Mile High City in the arena rafters. The roles will likely be reversed next week though when they become the official voice of the GOP meeting.

If you want to get the best coverage without all of the over-the-top, non-stop analysis, spin and commentary, turn on CSPAN and enjoy a convention without all of the filters.

dnc 1

I'm not the political junkie I used to be. As a matter of fact, the thing that keeps me interested these days is personally knowing a lot of the players, having friends who work for them, and being aware of the behind the scenes goings on. Of course I'm concerned about national security, social security, the economy, the environment, civil rights, education and health care and stuff. But put 50 dems and 50 repubs in a room together and you'll likely still have at least 80 different ideas on how to fix things. Some of them won't even think anything's broken. And the ideas don't always come down to political ideologies.

Still being interested in how elected officials get their jobs, I'll probably watch a lot of both political conventions these next two weeks.

The scene inside the Pepsi Arena in Denver this week is pretty impressive. They've turned that great big room into one huge stage. How cool! The job for any show promoter these days is to appeal to as many of your senses as possible. Not being there, I'm not sure about how the room feels or smells or tastes, but it looks and sounds good on TV. Kudos to the event creator and crew.

One of the things I always try to remember when I look at political campaigns and their party conventions is that people write speeches and people recite speeches. The person who does the drafting doesn't necessarily have to believe their own words. We as the public don't tend to hold the writers to their own ideas. We scrutinize the talker. We look for that something on their face, in their eyes that tells us whether or not we can take them at the writer's words.

The pundits today are dissecting last nights opening of the Democratic National Convention. Who was sincere? Who wasn't? What was real? What was fake? Was there something wrong with Senator Kennedy's right arm? I mean, he did wave with his left. And Michelle Obama blinked a lot. All the people who are paid to beat up Democrats woke up this morning with plenty to work with. But, the folks who are obligated to to make the country as blue as possible do to. Personally, I felt day one of their convention was nothing gained-nothing lost.

good sports

I usually just pay attention to the opening and closing ceremonies, but this time around I think I saw more of the Olympics than I can ever remember. I've heard more talk about the games among my friends too. There has been a lot of real interest, and it has actually been pretty exciting. The folks in Beijing absolutely blew me and the rest of the world away with the way they hosted the nations. And that opening party!!!

How in the world they did some of that stuff is completely baffling. People were dancing on their heads in mid air without strings or upside down hair. Stuff just appeared out of no where, and not little stuff either. I'm talking five story buildings just popped up out of the earth that just happened to be a stadium floor sized hi-def TV screen. I forget how many billions of dollars I heard they spent on it, but man, it was impressive. Good luck London.

There was the obligatory Chinese deception of course, the computer generated fireworks, and the pretty little girl who pretended to sing during the opening ceremony while the real talent was hidden away. This from the country whose philosophy preaches that there be no social divisions. Then there were the reported underage Chinese gymnasts. I say if a twelve year old can compete against other older athletes and still win gold they probably deserve those medals. Still, playing by the rules is only fair and right. Then again, we send millionaire pro basketball players to an amateur sporting event and run over the competition. Did you know that the US Olympic Committee actually pays athletes for each medal they win? Gold = $25,000. Silver = $15,000. Bronze = $10,000. There are also scholarships and health insurance and other things. Even non-pro sports are big business.

I've watched more athletic events these past few days than I'll usually watch in a year - outside of Kentucky football and basketball. It's hard to find a good water polo match on TV. Unless you keep ESPN on 24/7 you usually don't get to see table tennis and synchronized swimming which I think is the most fascinating thing in the world. There ya have eight ladies literally suspended in water that is remarkably like the kind I sink in - even when I'm holding lungs full of air. They bob up and down, twirl, flip, do somersaults, and swim on their heads in perfectly synchronized form. They float flawlessly and they're NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE BOTTOM OF THE POOL!! It's like magic.

Tyson Gay has been called the fastest man in the world. That's saying something. And since he's from Lexington we were especially excited about his prospects in China. Things didn't go so well though. A series of mishaps and injuries leading up to and during the games sorta left us all disappointed. Elaine Breeden was another Lexingtonian in the Orient for the games. She came home with a silver medal for being on the US women's swimming team that came in second in the 4 by 100 medley relay. She didn't swim in the final, but gosh, being on the team and getting there was no small accomplishment. I'd be awfully proud of her if she were mine.

The big news for most of the US was Michael Phelps. I don't think I've ever screamed and cheered for a swimmer before. The race he barely won was exhausting for me. I didn't breath the whole time he was in the water. I almost drowned on my couch. Then his last race as part of the relay team was just as dangerous. All by myself in the middle of the living room floor I pounded the carpet, gritted my teeth, pulled my hair and closed one eye while they backstroked, breaststroked, butterflied and freestyled to the finish line. It felt like we, er they swam for hours. I had my congressman on hold in case I needed to file a protest or something. Our boys won so I just thanked him for his service and hung up. I was too exhausted to even celebrate when the thing was done. Whew!

I heard today that gym memberships have been up lately. Whoever knows such things tells reporters that it's because of the Olympic games, more specifically Olympic athletes. I'm not gonna pretend I can run, jump, swim, flip, hit, kick, box, lift, balance, dance, throw or endure like a lifelong trained athlete. You'll find me on a milk carton before I make the Wheaties box. But I'm awfully proud of the young men and women who've found their dream and made it their life's goal to pursue excellence. It doesn't come cheap, and the sacrifice is great. That's the part I hope to resemble for myself and encourage in others. I hope that's what it means to be a good sport.

it's not my call

A few weeks ago I saw a video on YouTube. In it a guy named Marjoe, who was a famous traveling preacher back in the 1940s and 1950s, tells his story. Later in his life, after his successful ministry years, he starred in a documentary in which he admits that he was only in the Gospel business to make a nice living. He'd learned the crucial combination of using the right words with the right inflection and the right emotion at the right time to move a crowd and even convince them that God was among them. Evidently he was good at it. He had lots of followers and even his closest staff members had no idea of his real intentions.

Yesterday another great Christian voice confessed that he hasn't been honest with us. For the last couple of years Michael Guglielmucci has been telling the world that he is dying of cancer when in fact he's not. In the middle of his "battle" he wrote a powerful song that has become a source of strength and peace for thousands of others who are fighting things terminal and incurable. Somehow he was even able to force his body to react to the non existent disease and treatments as though he was actually ill. He put himself through a lot of pain for reasons we may never understand.

If there's anything good about these schemes, it's that these guys actually told the Gospel truth when they stood on the stage. God has them figured out. I don't have to. He even had someone mention it in the Bible. (Philippians 1:15-18) The Message is pure and powerful regardless of the mouthpiece. Give that much thought and it'll mess up everything you thought you knew about "knowing them by their fruits." (Matthew 7:20)

sgmradio.com

I've been jotting down thoughts and journaling my ideas for a long time now. A few of them have made it to print in magazines and newspapers and books, and some others have been published on a variety of web sites and newsletters. Then there are the ones that have never been seen. They don't need to be. If they do ever show up I hope I'm long dead and gone. I won't care if somebody pees on my grave.

Beginning in September I'll be a contributing writer for sgmradio.com. No guarantees it'll have a direct connection with gospel music, but hopefully someone somewhere will find the monthly thoughts useful.

so naive

Like everyone else who'll confess, I'll admit that I'm a person full of faults. No doubt about it, I have my own list of regrettable moments. My comfort though is in knowing that you and I are remarkably alike, and God gets it. Personally I don't know anyone who has all parts of all things together all the time. If I do find myself being really impressed with someone who seems to be right nigh-o-perfect, all I have to do is catch them on HDTV. Truth under bright lights is not always kind.

We all live in the company of the not so perfect. As ugly as my own issues are sometimes, one thing I'm mostly glad about is that God has allowed me the ability to give others the benefit of the doubt. It bites me in the butt sometimes, but I'm still more about trusting and forgiving than holding bitterness. What good would that do?

Several years ago our group was scheduled to sing on a really big concert way up north. We were excited about it. We'd only been traveling for a few years and this would be new territory for us. Exciting! Being our big date for the week, we'd routed our whole weekend tour around it. Then, just a few days before the show, the promoter called to say he was going to have to cancel - not the whole show, just our part. I told him that cancelling the date would keep us from being able to pay bills, so he said he'd send us half of our agreed fee and put us on a future, yet-to-be-named show. I was relieved and told the rest of our guys of his kind way of cancelling. Someone spoke up and said we'd never see the money. I told him to have more faith in people. He told me I was naive. OK, he was right. That sort of thing happens from time to time. You hate it when it does, but you try not make it the determiner of your mood. You'll end up angry all the time if you do.

I've made a few life and business decisions that I regret. Sometimes I've counted on a person's sense of fairness or decency or compassion and learned a lot about their heart in the end. My naivety again. It always stings a little, and the disappointment is emotional, but I hurt mostly for them. If their desire for dollars and the things it brings is more important than knowing they've done the honest and honorable thing, all they have is things, and without honor. That type of greed usually comes back around in a harsh way anyway.

I've often said that I really don't wish to be anyone's example. My life and my thoughts are probably not the model for a person who desires to be more like Christ and not so much like, well, me. But I do want to be like him. I want to think like him and act like him and care like him. I want to, but I'm not so good at it all the time. That's not a good enough reason not to try though. I don't know. Maybe I'm just naive.

old blue

Ever had to leave your car with a repair shop or garage for a few days? Even though the temporary replacement is nice enough, there's a special feeling of ownership, maybe even kinship, when you slide back into the driver's seat of your old familiar traveling companion and clutch the wheel that's yours again. It's like having an old friend back from a long trip. It just feels good.

Say you've never gotten that attached to a motor and wheels? OK. No big deal. But I have, and I like the feeling I get when I put my own tush on my own upholstery. The new stuff is nice. The familiar stuff is comforting.

For a good part of my adult life I've been getting around in a blue 1993 Ford Ranger 4x4 pickup truck. It's been a reliable and favorite way of mine to get from here to there for years now. From time to time I'd opt for a more comfortable ride and park it, thinking I'll keep it just in case I need to haul a load of something around. I've even given a little thought to trading it in for something newer, more stylish and less embarrassing. But the thoughts of looking out the window and not being able to see my faithful little ride sorta makes me sad. We've been through a lot, me and that old truck.

When life went crazy for me back in 2001 Old Blue and I would often set out to just ride around and go no where in particular. We weren't sure where we'd end up. Sometimes we'd find ourselves in the middle of nothing but wide open space. I'd just shut her down and let her rest while we listened to nature's noise and the little pops and pings from under her hood.

I can't tell you the times I've closed up the windows and spilled my anger to the poor girl. She had to be relieved when I'd roll 'em back down and scream at the wind. Old Blue has been a friend indeed. She's witnessed the birth of so many of my songs, was the first to hear the good ones and the only one to hear the rest. She's listened in on private phone conversations, endured long traveling show rehearsals, bad jokes and all, and accepted with grace her role as catcher of splattered ketchup, stale fries and my favorite peanut M&Ms. She knows more about me than anyone I can think of, some stuff too embarrassing to mention. If she wanted to take me down she could. I've always trusted her though, especially when she's carried Casie and Christian, the most precious cargo in the world.

I've pushed her too. But she never, ever let me down. When the snow was falling and others were sitting still, Blue and I were still moving. As much as I'm sure she wanted to protest, she always got me where I needed to be and back. Even on those long cross country singing trips. No doubt the bigger, newer, prettier and more modern machines had to wonder how an old gal like this could keep up, especially after all those miles. She did it though like a trooper.

Several years ago I went to school to pick up my daughter. She'd been learning to write her name and decided to surprise me with her autograph. You have to squint to see it now, but just on the inside of the passenger door is the faded signature of a grade school kid who scribbled "Casie" as best she could strapped to a seat in stop-and-go traffic. Just to the right of it is a nick and a crack in the vinyl door covering. That's where her pre-school brother banged out a permanent place in the old truck's history with his new plastic hammer that wasn't supposed to have the wherewithal to do that sort of damage. Little personality marks and tributes to trips small and large make this great old ride more of a friend than anything else. And she never complained.

I've been spending a lot of time on the road these last few weeks. A trip to southern Illinois this past Sunday night, then what was supposed to be a quick drive down to east Tennessee yesterday have added more miles and a little unexpected drama to mine and Old Blue's relationship. I hate to say it, but I'm afraid I may have enjoyed my last adventure with my four-wheeled mistress.

It's not like she hasn't seen this sort of terrain before. I kept her on the main roads, and didn't push her too hard, but evidently this time around it was more than she could take. About half way up one of east Tennessee's beautiful, but steep mountain roads she gave a final grunt and slipped into perpetual neutral. Me being the selfish human in this relationship, I was most concerned with getting myself, and her I guess, out of other people's way. I was grateful when a handful of the locals jumped in behind her and pushed us on up the hill to a wide spot on the edge of the road.

I've spent the last several days mulling my choices. Truthfully, I really don't have any. Just to get her towed back home would cost nearly a thousand dollars. A new transmission will get her moving, but again I have to consider the cost. So, right now she's sitting at a friend's place in east Tennessee waiting for me to let her go. I've had a few inquiries on Craig's List. It doesn't seem an appropriate way to end a relationship, but today's climate leaves me little choice. I have pictures. I will always remember. I hope the person who drives her next will treat her with the dignity and respect she deserves. I'll miss my Old Blue.

relax...

Dude! I'm feeling groggy. Honestly, dude...

I had a doctor's appointment yesterday. It was a six month follow-up from a previous visit. As it turned out, I was having one of my major headaches on Monday, and it lasted all through the night, so I took it to the doctor with me yesterday. After playing twenty questions he decided to prescribe something to help me relax. Not a mood manipulator, but a muscle relaxer. The nature of the headaches, origin and all, made it necessary.

The doctor made it very clear how many of the tiny pills I needed to take, so I followed his directions precisely. Things were good last night. Really good. I slept well and I woke up not feeling a thing - not a thing - I don't feel anything - good or bad - just nothing.

I have meetings at the office today. I need to be lucent and ready to speak up. I'm a little worried about how I'll come across. Heck, right now I'm a little concerned about getting there. Good thing is, if I don't make it, I don't think I'll feel the impact.

the patience of dad

Gosh! I love being a daddy. When I got home from my two weeks of traveling last week I was all giddy about a whole week of having my son Christian around. I don't get that very often, so it was a real treat and joy for me.

Not a slam on anyone who doesn't have or want children, but I can't fathom even in a tiny way the possibility of this earth without the presence of Christian and Casie Bishop in it. They're nearly grown up now, and sometimes a day or two will go by before we get to spend any meaningful time together, either in person or on the phone (emails, MySpace messages and texting doesn't count - although we do a lot of it). But I still cherish my moments in their presence.

I have some friends who are not good with kids, the younger ones at least. Sometimes they get down right pissy about it. One of them doesn't' hesitate to speak up and say something to the parents or the server if a small child is making noises in a restaurant. Another one mimics the sounds they make. If the kids screams, he screams. I know another guy who will ask to be seated somewhere else if the host tries to seat him next to a family with kids. He's also been known to walk out of a movie theater and ask for his money back if there are a lot of kids in it. One time we went to see a movie that was made for kids. I don't know who else he thought would be in the theater. He got so annoyed when the little ones laughed at the funny parts. I told him he needed to wait for the DVD the next time. He'll enjoy it better and so will everyone else.

It's sorta funny to me, because my kid-psyched friends notice things that I just don't. What they see as annoying I see as precious. They don't have the history of pride and fulfillment that a child offers a parent. They've never enjoyed the love or the bond of a child like I have, so I don't judge their insensitivity. I just figure it's a sorta sad lacking of the child experience and the joy that's attached.

Several weeks ago I was stuck in slow moving traffic through down town Lexington. I got to a major intersection and it was my turn to go. But cross traffic filled the lanes and I couldn't move. Some teenage girl pulled her car into the middle of the intersection and stopped. She had no choice of course. Traffic wasn't moving for her either. But she should not have pulled into the intersection anyway. It was likely she'd be blocking traffic if she did. She should've considered that I thought. So, I decided to teach her a lesson.

As I sat there, I decided that as soon as I got the green light I would lay on my horn and show her just how dumb she was and how mad I was. Then, about the time the light changed she turned to look at me and for a split second I thought it was Casie. The resemblance was remarkable. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't make this girl feel bad about being stuck in traffic. I couldn't act like a mad fool now. She wasn't my daughter, but she belonged to someone. I imagined my little girl in the same situation and hoped that if it ever happened to her someone would be considerate and give her a break.

Being a parent causes you to think about such things. You have more patience with kids and even their parents (most of the time). You choose to let kids be kids and not be so whiny and nit-picky. With so many big and heavy things to bog us down, why in the world let the noise of a child be a sore spot?

So, thank you Casie and thank you Christian for teaching me the patience of a parent.

jimmy swaggart

I've noticed that Jimmy Swaggart is back on TV in a big way. When I was growing up he was a big influence in our home. My parents bought his records, subscribed to his magazines, gave to his ministry, watched his TV shows, listened to him on the radio and put a lot of stock in his biblical teachings. I went to one of his crusades once when he was in Louisville back in the mid 1980s. Tens of thousands filled the same building the National Quartet Convention is held in today. He was a real celebrity preacher, and he wasn't compromising his strict message to be popular either. That was something he was very proud of - and being traditional Pentecostals so were we, his devoted followers.

Other than his later confessions, the only time I really remember the spiritual people closest to me having an issue with Jimmy Swaggart was when he mentioned during one of his television programs that God had appeared to him and told him that he was the ONLY man in the entire world who was preaching the real gospel. All the other preachers were simply wrong and misleading people into Hell. That presented a real issue for us. That meant we had to denounce everyone else including our own pastor and all of the great evangelists and missionaries we thought God had called. You can see our reasons for hesitation and concern. We didn't dwell on it long, certainly didn't take it too seriously, and Jimmy Swaggart remained an influencer in our Christian lives.

A lot of us were devastated in the late eighties when Brother Swaggart confessed that he had been hiring prostitutes. We were shell-shocked by it all. But we knew that God's ability to restore was just as potent as His ability to save. We also believed that big time, celebrity preachers deserved it as much as the most inconspicuous believer. Still do. I remember my dad saying that he was glad that Granny Bishop was not alive to be so disappointed. She had such tremendous trust in Jimmy's biblical wisdom and teaching.

It has been substantially noted and it's very well known that Rev. Swaggart was a tremendously jealous man when it came to the "ministry." He did not see fellow preachers as joint fighters for the Cause, especially the Pentecostal ones. To him, they were competition, and they had to be eliminated. He was quick to find and exploit their "sins." If he could discount their authenticity and erode their base of financial support, he would be left as the sole "full-gospel" TV preacher. The market would be his alone. He attacked everyone from Mother Teresa to Jim Bakker. He successfully exposed and destroyed most anyone who got in his way and declared himself the worthy judge, jury and jailer until the day his own stuff caught up with him.

He tried to keep things going. His denomination asked him to step aside and take some time to just focus on his own relationship with God without all of the pressures of public ministry. But to follow those suggestions would jeopardize the massive business and brand he'd developed and the huge campus he'd built down in Louisiana. So he made the decision to reject their plan of restoration and set out on his own. Not long after that he was found in the company of another prostitute, told all of us that it was none of our business, then pretty much disappeared, from our view anyway.

A few weeks ago I turned on the television and saw that familiar face again. He was still in his church sitting at the piano and singing just like I remembered from so long ago. It was sort of nostalgic. Nothing had changed. I could put on a thirty year old Jimmy Swaggart record and hear identical piano licks with that steady rhythm guitar and mellow mix of BGVs and organ. The ministry staff, who are mostly family, were sitting in the honored seats on the platform, away from the congregation. Although the choir is a lot smaller, they were wearing the robes I remember from years ago. The audience shots back then showed a lot more people, but the congregation is more sparse now, so they keep them tighter these days. The show starts with a long product pitch, has a cut in commercial somewhere in the middle and ends with another pitch and a plea for financial support. Not much has changed.

Another thing that hasn't seemed to change is the angry sense of pride and arrogance in their presentation. The whole Swaggart family is still as convinced as ever that they are God's one and only chosen vessel of truth. I've made it a point to watch and listen these past several weeks since I came across their Sunday morning TV show. They've railed with tremendous disrespect and pithiness against President Bush, the guys running for the office now, the Pope, African-Americans, Baptists, Methodists, Charismatics, Christian TV, a guy who converted a bar into a church, every denomination that has a name, and anyone who doesn't do ministry under the banner of or see things exactly like a Swaggart. And the tone is whiny and just hateful.

These days Jimmy Swaggart is known more as modern evangelical Christianity's most famous hypocrite than anything else. That's sad, because I really do believe that his ministry began with the goal of honoring God and loving people. Nowadays I don't think he's doing either.

amy

I have very high aspirations for both of my kids. Casie is my princess. Christian is my best pal. I want everything that is good for them in life. I want them to succeed, but I don't want them to get bogged down with needless worries or strict expectations. I want them to dance. I want them to be like Amy.

In her few but fast paced years of life so far my friend Amy has seen and done more than just about anyone I know. I mentioned her travel blog a few paragraphs down. If you've been over to take a look at some of her journeys you know she's seen a big, big part of our world. And I don't just mean landscapes, cities and wildlife. She's really seen the world.

I met Amy back in 2002 I think. I'd just been working for our congressman a few days when she walked into the office for the first time. She was young, pretty and tan for sure, and a bit trepeditious I thought. I learned later that that's not natural for her. But she was literally stepping straight out of college and headlong into the tough man's world of big time politics. Personally, I think she was playing timid to see how a bunch of territorial older guys would respond to having a young, pretty, barely-not-a-teeny-bopper girl around. She's sly.

It's not Amy's style to just slip into a room, she walks in like she's been announced. I love that about her. Now, if she wants to, she can come into a crowded space, mill around for an hour or two and slide out without the avoided even knowing they've been dissed. I've seen her do it, and she's good.

The thing that I'd want my own kids to emulate most is Amy's sense of adventure. She's barely over five feet tall. Her frame is tiny. She has a gorgeous little voice, and I've never seen her hit anyone. (Although her you-don't-want-to-go-there stare can scare you a little.) She doesn't command fear when you see her, but her willingness to stare it down is mean. What most others see as too big a task she sees as the next challenge. She's fierce!

She's raised and managed millions of dollars for a variety of causes, and kept scattered crews of dozens all on the same page to get big things done. Her tiny shoulders have rubbed against the most powerful and elite, and she's stood toe-to-toe with the best of her colleagues. She has accomplished what some bigger and broader folks can't seem to. She sorta reminds me of Angelina Jolie's beautiful, scrappy character in "Mr. & Mrs. Smith." She's so cool!

And today at 28 years of age I know her adventures are just beginning. We'll celebrate later, but I wanted to say happy birthday and send tons of love to someone I'm very keen on. She's my friend.

Happy birthday Amy!!

talent?

Here's a little rant. All of it IMHO.

One of the weirdest shows on TV these days is America's Got Talent. And I don't necessarily mean the singers, dancers, jugglers, yodelers, puppeteers, whistlers, magicians and fire-eaters who are trying to win the prize. By the way, what is the prize?

Sometimes what happens on the stage is just odd. Other times it is inspiring. Then at other times it's hard to know what it is. Since this is the first time I've really paid close attention to the show I may have missed the concept. But I can't imagine I'm the only person who just tuned in.

I understand the want-to-be-discovered-talent who show up and perform. The people on the stage are auditioning for a chance to go to Vegas and win something. I think the Gong Show did something similar years ago with a lot less prize and even less talent. But on that show the idea was to make the contestants look foolish. On AGT, the "judges" and the audience play that part.

Look at this cast. First off, kudos to David Hasselhoff's agent. Now THERE'S the talent. Imagine the used cars he could sell. Who thinks the Hoff is the best man for the job? Did anyone read his application?

The show's original female judge, was Brandy. She could sing and dance and act and model and write and produce. She was loaded with talent. If anyone was qualified to spot real artistic ability, she was. Now we have Sharon Osbourne.

I think Sharon is a neat lady. She certainly doesn't look like the kind of woman who'd be interested in sleeping with Ozzy. But she's a successful woman who should know talent. I think she's a very inconsistent judge though. Case in point; last night she gave the thumbs down to a group of college guys who had a really good drum act. They were tight and energetic and obviously talented. She said their act was "limited" and wouldn't work in Vegas. Rewind: This past Sunday night a man steps to the middle of the stage and does hand shadows of former presidents. Sharon thinks Vegas will "love it!" Moments later another really impish looking guy does some terribly awkward song and dance routine, and she thinks it's "adorable." Proof that Sharon Osbourne either just hates college kids, or she's a poor judge of talent.

Piers Morgan? He got a judges chair here in the US because he has one in Great Britain. He's famous over there for writing and talking about famous people. He and my mailman are equally qualified to pick America's next big star.

And Jerry Springer!!!! Did the producers of this show do any kind of background check? Do they know what their host's other TV job is? No wonder the audience acts so juvenile.

The other night a guy with tremendous talent walks out and sings a powerful and emotional song. Because he has teeth, combs his hair and sings serious songs with a nice vibrato the mob in the seats, who aren't' sure which Jerry Springer show they're on, starts screaming for the judges to throw him off the stage. They're not even listening. But the singer man just stood there and gave one of the most intelligent and moving performances of the season. He was just too good for this audience, and this show. In the end the crowd started cheering for him. He faced them down and won. He had a couple of things they didn't. Integrity and class.

Why spend so much time on something so insignificant? 'Cause I watched the show last night and it bugged me. The judges were inconsistent. The audience was childish. The host was just out there, and whoever was directing the shots should consider letting us see what's happening on the stage. Either that or change the name of the show to "Audience Got Talent." Truth in advertising might not allow it though.

ky, tn, ga, fl, ga, tn, ky, tn, al, ms, la, ms, al, tn, ky

If you fly over a state are you technically in it? Do states own air space like countries do? If they do I've been in and out of a small handful lately. It was regular life back when I was traveling and singing full time, but I'm not the move-about I used to be.

I know folks who are just in for a visit when they get "home." They're always in an airport or on a cruise ship or a train or a bus. I love seeing new places and visiting familiar favs myself. I enjoy experiencing other cultures. And since I'm a beach lover living in a beachless state, it takes going somewhere else to indulge. I do enjoy a trip away from time to time, but I like my couch and my kitchen and my shower and my bed better than any I've visited. The people I love the most are handy when I'm home too.

One of my BFFs is THE travel diva. Amy was in N'awlins with me for a couple of days last week. That's a baby trip for her. She travels around the world, literally - all the way around it. She doesn't even bother to take her passport out of her purse. Name a continent, she's probably walked on it. Need travel advice, she can fill you in - from personal experience. Don't believe me? Click on her blog, "Tales from a Travel Diva" and you'll see.

Before New Orleans, Florida was a nice get away for me. BTW, this trip was courtesy of Amy the Diva and ZAC. It wouldn't have happened otherwise, and I am very, very grateful to these two very special people. On the way down we were joking about vacationing on the gulf during hurricane season. When we got to the island we heard about a "disturbance" just off shore. When it hit, the rain was torrential for a couple of days. So now I can proudly say that I endured a disturbance. Not as impressive as surviving a hurricane, not even a tropical storm really. Heck, it didn't even rank a name. I don't think it would make a very impressive t-shirt either. "I ENDURED AN UNNAMED DISTURBANCE." When I was a kid my mom could've said that a lot.

The rain finally stopped, and when it did it got gorgeous really fast. The beach was beautiful. The water was warm. The breeze was cool. The sun was hot! And I got lazy. Besides a day-trip to Fort Lauderdale, my favorite Florida city, we spent the week without a plan or the initiative to do much more than just chill out by the water. I came home rested, which is the point of a vacation I think. But I often miss the point.

One day at home to unpack, do some laundry, repack and head to southern Louisiana.

This was a work trip. But I'll tell you, the folks in the Big Easy are ready for the moment business is finished. I found the French Quarter, Bourbon Street in particular, to be a beautiful, interesting, repulsive and intriguing place. Personally, I'd keep the kids down by the river at the aquarium or the children's museum. I'm sure it's my conservative upbringing, but watching families with young'ns in tow walking down a street lined with the stars of the strip clubs standing in the doorway and huge pictures of them posing in "uniform" doing their business... It just seemed inappropriate to me. Call me a stick-in-the-mud, but some of those little boy tourists were skinning their chins on the pavement. They weren't seeing Minnie Mouse.

The first couple of nights I was there I stayed about a block off Bourbon Street at a beautiful and classy old place called the Hotel Monteleone. It's supposed to be haunted. The scariest thing I saw though was the guy who couldn't find his floor button when he got on the elevator. He said his room was on the 24th. I think the hotel only had like sixteen maybe. He had an intoxicated aroma, and I'm really not sure he was even at the right hotel. Come to think of it, that really was more funny than scary.

There is a lot of a lot of history in NOLA. The cemeteries were creepy but they were supposed to be. The architecture of the old churches and homes and storefronts is inspiring. I've never seen so many interesting shops that sold absolutely EVERYTHING you could imagine. I mean everything. The local food was rich and delicious. The people were right friendly, and it wasn't nearly as hot and humid as I'd expected in mid July. This Mississippi River has stories of its own. One thing you really must do if you're ever in New Orleans is visit the National World War II Museum. It's the only one there is, and it will require several hours and all of your emotions.

The city is rebuilding from Katrina's wrath. Mayor Nagin spoke to us about the spunk and gumption of the southern Louisiana people. From what I saw, I think they'll do well, but there's still a lot of need and reasons for us to help. Some homes have not been touched since the day of the storm.

This trip also had some adventure. On day one I saw a man get hit by a car. He wasn't seriously injured, but it shook us up. The next day a big barge carrying tens of thousands of gallons of fuel crashed and sank in the Mississippi River right in front of our hotel. It smelled like a truck stop there for a couple of days. Later in the week, Renee and I were coming out of Molly's on Toulouse and had to help a guy who'd been beat up. He was bleeding a lot, so we wanted to help.

A friend of mine who is a flight attendant told me once that it is a rare thing to be on a plane with more than a few people and not have a doctor or nurse on board. He was right, and it's a good thing. We needed one and had one. On my flight home a young lady on the plane developed a medical condition that required serious attention. The passenger/nurse tended to her during the flight and the paramedics met them at the airport as soon as we landed. People all around me for a week were being hurt. I was beginning feel like Angela Lansbury.

Both of my trips were a lot of fun. I feel fortunate to have seen so much. Now, I'm really, really glad to be home. If living in a routine means I get to stay here for a while I'm ready to get started.

where ya been?

What's it been, a week or so now? I was hoping to be able to share a bit while I was in New Orleans this week. I didn't want to pay the extra dollars the hotel was charging for Internet though. As a matter of fact, I'm really sorta proud of myself. I may have set a new record for the least amount of money ever spent on a week away from home in a big city. The work conference fed us breakfast and lunch most days, so those two meals were no issue. There were a couple of times though when dinner was also breakfast, but I'd been meaning to start a diet anyway. No soft drinks or junk food on this trip. The busy-ness kept me from even noticing the DT.

The New Orleans airport is buzzing this morning. Most everybody looks like me; pillow wrinkles, puffy eyes, and hair just good enough to fly with. Seeing all of the Big Easy's entertainment options, I'll bet some of these folks haven't been to bed since yesterday.

OK, calling my flight. More about the last few days and some other stuff soon. Promise.

renee

I tell everyone that I asked Renee to marry me and she turned me down. I don't blame her. I'm close to two decades older than she is and I think she's worried people would talk. I told her they talk anyway, but she's still too young to know that.

Even though she wouldn't marry me, I still love my Renee. After she turned me down she said yes to John. I think it's because he's younger and stronger and better looking and other stuff. He's a super good guy though, so if I couldn't have her I'm glad he got her. They both did well.

Renee is one of my BFFs. We trust each other. We talk to each other. We believe each other. Even before we really knew each other well we knew we liked each other. When I was working 16 and 18 hour days for a political campaign and didn't have the time or health to drive the two hours it took to get home and back, she let me move into her apartment. She was assigned to work somewhere else and didn't need it right away, so she just gave me the key. She rescued me, literally.

Political campaign work is often likened to trench warfare. You get close to your trench buddies. These are the people you trust with your life. If any one person lets down their guard, all of you can lose. Renee and I have shared some trenches. I've trusted her to watch my back and she's never, ever let me down. That's just one of the reasons she means so much to me.

She's celebrating another year of life today and I'm not close enough to hug her neck. I hate that. I hope she can have a perfect party without me.

it matters

I remember years ago standing on the deck of a cruise ship watching the trail of that giant boat disappear off into the horizon. A little boy walked up, stood next to me for about thirty seconds then said, "That sure is a lot of gallons of water." I thought it was cute and very simple, but he was right. He took his swimmies and walked away.

The rain has finally let up here in south Florida. The TV said it was the biggest rain they'd had here in years. I believe it. A quick trip to the grocery store yesterday turned into a real adventure, and I know I drove through water I'd scold my kids for attempting. The bridges on and off the island were closed so I couldn't go far. Cars were stranded everywhere, and the folks who live here were looking scared. I don't know why I felt so invincible. I survived though and made it back to the room with not so much as a melted Popsicle.

I was able to stroll on the beach for a couple of hours before the sun went down last night. It was gorgeous and peaceful and serene to watch that big, bright yellow ball settle on top of the water before it finally vanished. You could still see its reflection in the clouds for quite a while after though. All the rain made it easy for the birds to pick out whatever they wanted to eat. There was just no room in the sand for the bugs AND the water. The Gulf was as magic as ever. I took lots of pictures.

That's when the little boy's wise words came back to me. If you could measure it, I wonder how many gallons of water there are out there. I can't imagine how many we can actually see, much less how much is beyond the horizon or underneath the top part. Then I started thinking about the sand. That's a lot of gallons of sand too. The beach I'm on is also filled with millions of billions of shells. Of course that's just a guess. There are more than anyone can count though I'm sure. Then that reminded me of a story I used to hear my favorite pastor, Rex Hudson, tell.

A boy walked out on the beach one morning to find thousands of starfish stranded in the sand. He felt compelled to do something, so he picked one up and threw it back into the sea, then another, and another. He was doing all he could to save as many of the helpless creatures as he possibly could. A man strolled by and asked the boy what he was doing. "I'm trying to save the starfish," he said. "There are too many," the man replied. "There's no way you can save them all. What does it matter?" The little boy picked up a starfish, tossed it into the water and said, "It matters to that one."

benny

I'd like to think I'm a giver. Some people are generous givers. Benny is. It's fairly common to get a note or a phone call from him giving us the opportunity to help him help others. That's generous I think.

I met Benny for the first time about six years ago. I noticed he was quiet and moved deliberately and listened before he spoke. I remember thinking, gosh I'd like to be like that. I've had a chance to get to know him even better over the years. In that time I've also learned that he is loyal, likes to bake, is a great tennis player and loves to laugh. That's also when I learned that he likes to help others, especially those in need. I still want to be like him.

Today is Benny's birthday. No one knows how old he is. I'm gonna guess 27. Happy birthday my Benny buddy!!!

jan-ann

I don't know if everyone has a favorite cousin. I do. Growing up Janice and I were more like brother and sister. I always got excited when I knew we were going to load up and drive over to Winchester for a visit. I knew we'd be riding bikes for hours and making up songs and dancing and just hanging out. We were tight, Janice and me.

Like it usually does, adulthood and its responsibilities took the two of us in different directions. I hate that we don't get to sing and play like we did in our kid years. We had so much fun then. It's sort of a shame that we've allowed those times to be so yesterday. When we talk now we always say we're gonna have to get together and do something.

Janice has been an inspiration to me. She's looked too many difficult circumstances in the eye and refused to blink. I know a few who are more timid who would've accepted the hard stuff as part of life and given up. Not her. She has decided to take advantage of the day and begin all over again - and be excited about it. I want to be like her.

I call her Jan Ann. She and I were born the same year. Today is her birthday. She really deserves the best in all of her, uh hum, 32 years.

rainy day opportunities

Florida is one of my favorite places to get away to - the sun, the sand, the ocean, the people... That's where I am today. This trip was courtesy of some really good folks who make me feel wealthy. I'd decided that a summer trip was not going to happen this year. Things are tight financially and recent circumstances have made it even moreso. What I don't have in dollars I have in abundance when it comes to great people in my life. They've made these few days away possible.

The flight was flawless. Airport parking was a breeze, security was painless (I sorta enjoyed the little puffer machine). Our flight was right on time, the rental car was waiting, and the drive to where I'm staying was easy. If the trip back is as problem free I'll tell you about this great new inexpensive carrier I've found. I like bragging on the ones that do it right.

Everything is not perfect, at least by vacation standards. It has been raining pretty much since we've been here. I expect soggy weather when I visit Alaska. Heck, I'd be disappointed if I didn't get rained on there. But I'm at the beach, and there's sort of this obligation to come home with a pretty tan with lines and stuff. The locals say it's supposed to clear up by the end of the week so all will be good.

About the rain, I enjoy it. It may prevent me from doing what I came to the Sunshine State to do, but it allows other things. This journal entry is one of them. BTW, I've never written from my phone before, so mistakes can be expected. I'll need to run down to Starbucks to see if I did it right. I also have a couple of songs on the stove and a rainy morning is a good time to concentrate on them. It'll be exciting to see what comes out of the rain. I'll keep you posted...

oh me! oh my! oh mine!

I really don't know who or how many folks take the time to stop in and read what's banging around in my head. I've heard from several though the last several days asking me where I've been and why I haven't' been talking lately. It's not that there hasn't been plenty to say. I'm always pondering a variety of things. I just hate to rattle on sometimes.

For the next couple of weeks I'll be away from the office and Kentucky. I'm not sure what Internet access will be like, so I may be silent for a while. I'll try to take notes though and holler about the fun stuff that will likely come up.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I'm not much of a late sleeper. Most mornings allow me to catch about the first five minutes of the morning news. Then it's out the door. I'm not working today, so this morning I was able to spend a little more time catching up on Washington, Hollywood and gas. I made sure to catch the Today Show. I wanted to give Kathie Lee Gifford a chance to change my mind about her.

I don't know what happened. I used to really like Kathie Lee. About a week ago when I was off for the holiday I sat down to see how she and Hoda were holding up. They're starring in the last hour of the now nearly day-long morning news program. OK, all of my tepid web-speak skills will work here. LOL, ROFL, FYA, HHOJ/K, IDK, LMAO and probably a few others fit nicely. I'll say, I like Hoda. She makes the hour for me. She seems like a real person and I think we'd get along if we were put in a room together. Me and Mrs. Gifford might have some issues though.

I remember back when she used to sit next to Regis. I sorta liked her then because Reege had a way of rolling his eyes every time she'd start on all the stuff she has and all the people she knows and all the invitations she gets (and turns down). "It's hard being famous Reege!!" Now poor Hoda has to endure all that "I'm blessed with fab" all by herself. She has to be counting the ticks to the next commercial break. I sorta sense it between the two of them. Sometimes it feels like the show's guests should be wearing referee stripes.

I can handle arrogance. I know a few people who have a lot of love for themselves. I have trouble though with folks who seem to enjoy making others feel inferior along the way. KLG says she's "blessed." I can't argue with her.

pause...

OK, reading back it looks like I'm angry. Lord knows I'm not. Maybe I was just in the wrong mood when I turned on the TV. I don't begrudge anyone who has worked hard and achieved a lot. I just thought I'd let you know that me and Kathie Lee probably wouldn't be good friends for very long. We'd both have our issues with each other. Now that I've spent all this time pointing at her I'm gonna run look in the mirror.

oh well...

Thanks for letting me get that scream out of my system last night. The little volcano within had been building up steam pretty much all day. No lava, no damage. Just noise. It felt good to get it out.

I spent a good part of yesterday and last night looking at my budget and sorting the un from the necessary. I know a lot of people who are doing it. I have friends with boats who can't afford to put them in the water. Heck, they can't afford to get to the water. Vacations have turned into backyard staycations and eating out is a luxury again. Today the cable company and I parted on good terms. We may get together again one day. Who knows.

As tight as things are, I'm still very, very fortunate. The fluff stuff may be trimmed, but I can't think of a thing that I need. So instead of being miffed about the stuff I'm letting go of, I've decided today to see it as a cleansing of sorts - a way to declutter and get back to simpler things. I prolly needed it anyway.

No promises I won't scream again tomorrow...

aaaaagggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

That's all...

trickery

The radio was tuned to the local talk station when I started the truck this morning. The first thing I heard was news of the record high gas prices in Lexington. Then I noticed where my little fuel guage needle thingy was resting. I had a moment of silence. At $4.16 this will hurt.

I think it's a trick. Whoever is ending up with all of the money we're spending at the pumps these days is taking us for way too gentle fools.

I remember a few years ago when we all got mad because fuel prices jumped up over two dollars in a matter of days. Everybody was screaming that something had to be done. How long could we afford $3 gasoline? The oil companies or the speculators or the government or the oil sheiks or whoever was at the end of the cash trail all sat for a while, counted and listened. Then the better, more caring human within them arose and brought things down to a reasonable $2.50 or $2.75 a gallon. Never mind that this was still better than a dollar more than we had been paying before the gouge. At least it wasn't $3. So we felt grateful for their kindness and shut up.

Now the same tricksters who hoodwinked us before feel like they can get away with it again. Or maybe this is a copycat crime. They'll let us scream about $4 and $4.50 gallons for a while, then before you know it things'll settle in at a reasonable $3.50 or $3.75 and we'll feel like we're getting a deal.

It's a trick I tell you.

equal

John Adams was a smart man. He eventually became President of the United States, so I'm sure he was no intellectual slouch back in 1776 when he told his wife that July 2nd, "will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival." Missed it by that much... (They'd probably use it against him if he were running for office today.)

July 2, 1776 was the day the Continental Congress voted on a resolution of independence from the British Empire. A day to be remembered for sure. It was a couple of days later though that the actual declaration was approved. Interestingly enough, the famous document we see today isn't the original. Get this, right after the vote was taken on the fourth, someone ran it over to ye olde print shoppe to get copies made and they lost it!! Sure enough, in all the excitement, someone set the original aside and accidentally threw it away! I'd hate to be known as the guy who lost the Declaration of Independence.

So, in a few days, around July 19th, a scripted copy, the one that now sits at the National Archives in Washington, DC, was brought in and everyone, including John Hancock, finally got around to signing it on August 2nd.

As sacred and special as that document is to us now, in the early days right after its publication it was pretty much a neglected piece of paper. It was a good ol' Kentucky boy who first decided to give it the rightful place of honor and admiration it enjoys today. Thank you Mr. Lincoln.

John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Livingston, Roger Sherman and Thomas Jefferson were the committee tasked with working on the original draft. Tom took the initiative to do most of the actual writing, and a few of his earliest attempts are still around today. The working title, and the one approved by the Congress was, "A Declaration by the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress assembled." Doesn't roll of the tongue so nicely.

By the way, there were only thirteen colonies back in those days, and the vote wasn't immediately unanimous. New York was the hold out until finally joining in on July 9th. They should have to hold off on the fireworks for a week.

The very first words of the preamble set the tone for what is to come, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

All of mankind! That's a lot to live up to.

big sky box

My truck doesn't have a CD player. I'm not completely without a little technology though. When the weather is nice I plug the headphones into the iPod and enjoy the windows-down ride like an astronaut on a Ferris wheel.

On the way into the office this morning I was listening to the Isaacs' Big Sky record. Gosh! It's good. You know, sometimes you just hear something brand new for the tenth time. I've listened to this thing over and over, and every time it's chill on chill for me. Every piece hits something on my insides.

My favorite changes with my moods, but today it was "Love Is A Cross You Bear" that drew me in and really touched me. What a story! What an example of love that often hurts but eventually gives back. The lyrics are powerful and the instruments, arrangement and singing were just as inspiring. I don't know if Ben ever sounded better.

I've read some criticisms about the Isaacs and this project in particular. I love this family. They are all dear friends. Years ago when our family was first starting to travel and sing so were they. Their house was our Ohio home (they lived there then). And ours was their home in Kentucky. We spent lots and lots of weekends traveling and growing up together. They're like family, although these days from a distance.

About the criticisms, one of the things I've heard is that this record is not blatant enough. Some say it needs to be more "gospel" oriented. Personally, I think the broad message on this particular piece is part of its beauty and strength. When you listen, it's tough not to feel something in your heart for sure, but just as much in your mind. If the complaint is that a few folks can't see God in this record it might be because He's outside the box and they're not.