What To Write?

I have a much younger friend on Facebook who has started writing a blog. She falls in the gifted and talented category and has the potential to do any number of things. That’s not to say that she didn’t have a rough start. Seriously, what do I know?

I’d say it was a rough start, but I really don’t know for certain. I suspect being born in a Dodge Pickup Truck on the side of the highway on a cold night adds a sense of intrigue to one’s arrival. That’s probably not something that many experience.

I’m not suggesting that she had a rough start because if given a choice, I’d have opted for a Tough Ford Truck over a Dodge. That’s simply a personal preference. I’m saying that primarily because her mother missed the hospital labor room experience and forfeited the bright lights of a delivery room surrounded by medical personnel.

It would have to be somewhat unsettling to give birth in the dark of the night on the side of a highway. In addition, her dad didn’t have the opportunity to telephone family and friends to say that his daughter’s birth was imminent.

The other morning (it was not early morning), my blogger friend sent me a text: “Good morning Mr. Forrester! I was just brainstorming new blog ideas and thought of you.” She added a smiley face. That made me feel good.

So, was she fishing for information on how I chart my course and come up with ideas? Probably not is my best guess. On the off chance that her reaching out to me was a subtle request for help, I took the bait. I have never written about anything that falls into the category of rocket-science. I keep the subject matter simple (fat chance that I could do anything else).

Before I get out of bed in the mornings, I generally think about the previous day to see if anything comes to mind. Sometimes I attempt to find an adventure in the midst of the commonplace. On other days, I explore the resources of my memory to see if anything surfaces that a reader might find of interest. I’d prefer to have something in mind before I sit down in front of a computer, but that doesn’t always happen.

I also write about everyday life. That way, others can identify with what I’ve written and have the freedom to add their own two cents worth. Often my stories remind others of their stories. Isn’t that the way it is supposed to work?

I cautioned her not to write anything political unless she was open to losing half her readership. It is sad to say, but we live in a day that if someone doesn’t agree with you, the friendship fades and distance becomes the defining characteristic. How self-absorbed and shallow we’ve become! God forbid that our ties to others are that fragile!

One of the surprises I’ve experienced through sharing a daily blog is the new information I’ve learned about people, including folks I’ve known for a very long time. Some friends opt to send me a private email rather than respond publicly. In fact, I have a long-term friend who reminded me at the onset that he valued his privacy and would not be making public comments. Yet, he periodically drops me a note to affirm his continued interest.

A friend once sent me a private message: “How do you find so much information to write about?” He then asked a question related to his childhood memories and his mother’s mandate that he needed to eat everything on his plate. He went on to say that once a week, his mother prepared liver and onions because his father liked it. He and his three brothers hated liver. His father paid little attention to him at the table, so when his mother wasn’t looking, the family dog got a nice piece of liver handed to him under his chair.

He wanted to know if mothers had a way of circulating information among themselves prior to the Internet. How did they know about starving children in China? How did they come up with what seemed like a universal expectation that children needed to eat everything on their plate?

His were a good questions, but I didn’t know the answers. I, too, heard about starving children in China. As kids, we also had the expectation to eat everything on our plates. When given an instruction to do something, we learned not to ask, “Why?” We didn’t want to hear, “Because I said so.”

What unusual expressions did you hear growing up? Did you use those same expressions with your kids?

All the Best!
Don

It Felt Like A Shot In The Dark

On Christmas Day in 2008, my brother and I received word that our Uncle Kenneth had gone to be with the Lord. He had courageously fought cancer, but the prognosis wasn’t favorable.

A few months before, I had visited with him in Houston at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. He was referred there by his physician in Odessa. My aunt Maxine and cousin, Becky, were present at the hospital at the time of my visit. My uncle and his family seemed pleased that I was there. Ours was a close relationship and I was pleased that I carved out time to make the visit.

Because our relationship with my dad’s brother and his family was forged in the kind of love that lasts a lifetime, my brother Larry and I wanted to be present to support our Aunt Maxine and two cousins and their families. Consequently, we stayed in Odessa a couple or three days rather than hurrying in and out.

It was also good to share time with Larry. At some point, he laughingly said to me something closely akin to: “Kay tells me that I am just like you. I now see what she’s talking about. You walk around in a fog part of the time. You focus on one thing and like a dog chewing on a bone you can’t let go of it. In the process, you are oblivious to a lot of other things.”

That felt like a shot in the dark that came out of nowhere. I wasn’t sure that it was the highest of compliments. Of course, I was oblivious to what he was talking about. I know what you’re thinking. By my acknowledging that, I have substantiated that I am guilty as charged. Larry and I are like two peas in a pod.

Yesterday, Larry and I connected by telephone. At the time the General was in the car with me and the call was on the speaker. About 30 seconds after beginning our conversation, Kay got in the car with Larry. They were going to church and of course, Larry wanted to get to church 45 minutes early because he was teaching the class.

Some reference was made to the fact that Larry and I are just alike. I should have said: “That is the highest of compliments.” I didn’t think that fast.

I did respond: “While that may be true, has it occurred to anyone that the General and Kay are just alike? Larry laughed out loud. I suspect that he has thought the same thing. Larry and I are obviously a couple of lucky guys. How’s that for covering my tracks?

We both married way outside our pay group and our wives provide a lot of structure and oversight. Our wives are loving, smart, independent, and self-confident. I suspect thy both employ the same techniques in garnering respect from their husbands.

Let me share a couple or three things that Treva has said to me to substantiate what I’m talking about because although I haven’t compared notes with my brother, I suspect it will be all too familiar:

• How about this for gentle redirection? “When you were growing up, I know your mother told you that ‘Be neat’ is a Biblical command. I don’t think it is one of the two-word verses in the Bible such as ‘Jesus wept,’ but you are going to pick up after yourself. I am not your mother.

• I’ve learned that when the General begins a sentence with: “If you were industrious, you would…, I need to pay very close attention. If I fail to follow the hint and become immediately industrious, there will be consequences that I’d probably prefer to avoid. I hate the sound of: “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times.”

• Another introductory sentence that merits close attention is: “I am going to ask that you not…”. To disregard that suggestion could be hazardous to your peace of mind. The most recent time I’ve heard the phrase: “I am going to ask that you not text on you phone if I can hear you pressing the keys.” Did I mention that the General hears everything?

There is no denying it, the General and Kay are very much alike. After all”

• They are consistently loving and a source of encouragement to their husbands.

• They are exceptional mothers and grandmothers and go out of their way to be supportive and loving to their extended family.

• They love their husband’s family of origin as though they were their own.

• This one is tongue-in-cheek: “They sometimes cook.” Anything for a laugh!

As a side note, for anyone to think I am just like my brother is to pay me the highest of compliments.

All the BEST!
Don

A Story Of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption

I have a friend from high school who ran track. I won’t say that he was as fast as the wind, but he was light on his feet, and he could move quickly. His abilities as a runner were defining moments in how he saw himself. It was a sport in which he could greatly excel and if asked today, he’d say that track holds some of his most precious moments from high school.

As I write those word, I’m remembering Sheldon’s body-types from psychology my freshman year in college. According to Sheldon, there are three somatotypes: ectomorphs, mesomorphs, and endomorphs. It is an oversimplification, but you could say small, medium and large covers it. Folks who are figuratively light on their feet are good candidates for track.

I, of course, was an exception to the rule. I was a skinny kid, but I didn’t run track. My feet didn’t have the wherewithal to move as fast as my mouth. I was the class clown, but schools don’t give a letter jacket for accomplishments in that arena. However, I have wonderful memories from school and I’m still good for a laugh.

Last night the General and I watched a movie that was recommended to us by an aunt of my daughter-in-law. She said that “Unbroken”, the story of Louis (Louie) Zamperini was a good movie.

Louie was one of those kids that was frequently in trouble, until his quest for running was channeled into athletics and his achievements redefined his self-image. In 1936, at the age of 19, he qualified and participated in the Summer Olympics in Berlin.

In 1938, Louie attended the University of Southern California. He set a national collegiate record of 4 minutes, 8.3 seconds in the mile. During the race, he was intentionally spiked in the shines from competitors during that race.

Louie joined the Army Air Corps in September 1941 and was soon commissioned as a second lieutenant. “Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption” written by Laurel Hillenbrand chronicles Louis Zamperini’s story.

She writes: “On a May afternoon in 1943, an Army Air Forces bomber crashed into the Pacific Ocean and disappeared, leaving only a spray of debris and a slick of oil, gasoline, and blood. Then, on the ocean surface, a face appeared. It was that of a young lieutenant, the plane’s bombardier, who was struggling to a life raft and pulling himself aboard. So began one of the most extraordinary odysseys of the Second World War.”

It is not an easy movie to watch because of man’s inhumanity to man, but it will serve you well to do so. The movie is available on Netflix.

All My Best!
Don

Brooks and Baxter Was Not The Name Of A Law Firm

I recently received a request from the chamber of commerce in Little Rock that the organization where I work schedule another conference in their town.  I doubt that we’ll plan on that anytime soon, but I have memories from 2019 of stories from Little Rock that have the makings of a bad dream.

On either side of the mezzanine and balcony at the historic Capitol Hotel [built in 1872] in downtown Little Rock, there are two stately rooms sharing the same name: “Brooks and Baxter”.  So what was that about? Initially, I didn’t know enough to ask the question. Later as I stood in front of the Old State House Museum in Little Rock (the previous Capitol building of Arkansas), the name Brooks and Baxter was shared with me by a colleague. I immediately wondered if the name was associated to a law firm?  

I don’t always get it right. “Wrong answer – no cigar” so to speak.  I noticed the cannon to my left perched on the large, manicured lawn. At the time, I didn’t know that the cannon was endearingly referred to as Lady Baxter.

That being said, the man providing the dialogue referenced the name of the rooms we had seen earlier at the Capitol Hotel and said: “Brooks and Baxter had a duel in the Old State House”.  It was a stupid question on my part, but I asked: “Did they both walk away?” Duh! Obviously not!  At least one of the guys was a better shot than the other.  Only one of the two guys walked away or so I’m told.

We looked at other places in downtown and as we made our way back in the direction from which we came, I stopped in front of the Old State House to take a picture. The colleague who had shared the information regarding the duel, said: “We can go inside if you like. It doesn’t cost anything.” Immediately, I had the thought: “I met this guy yesterday and already he has pegged me as being cheap”.  I guess you could say: “It is what it is?” 

In some respects, I’m a history buff. Even more importantly, there is nothing I like better than a good story. With that thought in mind, I walked inside the building. It only took a moment, but it became clear instantly that no one has the knack of sharing stories like one of the staff personnel in the Old State Museum. When she asked if she could help, I said I was curious: “Did a duel really take place in the Old State House?” Her response surprised me: “Oh, there’s been more than one”.  

From the look on my face, she could tell that I was shocked.  Georgia may be known for the sound of dueling banjos, but a duel at the Capitol building in Arkansas has to garner more notoriety than a shoot-out at the O.K. Corral in Arizona or anything associated to the sound of dueling banjos.

I guess, back in the day, if a gentleman took offense, one of the two parties could be dead wrong. The staff person at the Old State Museum said:“I can tell you about the most frequently talked about duel”.  Intuitively, I knew it had to be Brooks and Baxter.  I was wrong again – no cigar.  Reportedly, the duel didn’t include pistols.

Though I would never have guessed the forum for conflict resolution, the Speaker of the House Colonel John Wilson and Representative Major Joseph Anthony Arkansas chose to whittle out a resolution to their conflict by using knives.  The act of savagery took place on December 4, 1837.

Actually, it really wasn’t a duel. Representative Anthony was viciously attacked.

His response was an attempt to defend himself after being stabbed by the Speaker of the House over a disagreement concerning surplus tax on wolf pelts.  Representative Anthony was holding his own until someone tossed a chair between the two in an attempt to stop the brawl.  Representative Anthony tripped and fell over the chair.

Long story short, the Speaker of the House was expelled from office and subsequently tried for murder.  Disturbingly, no action was taken against Colonel Wilson for three days until a family member of Representative Anthony complained. Colonel Wilson had a host of friends and supporters who showed up and took his side in the issue. At his murder trial, the jury rendered a verdict of “guilty of excusable homicide.” 

The truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.

All My Best!

Don

We Are Now A Gold Star Family

Yesterday’s Memorial Day was a first for us. We are now a Gold Star Family. Although my brother’s plane went down 27 December 1972, he was listed as Missing In Action until his remains were identified in December 2023. [For a brief time during President Carter’s Administration, MIAs were routinely changed to “Killed in Action/Body Not Recovered.”]

At the time of that change, our family was adamantly opposed to Ronnie’s classification being altered. For years, the rhetoric of the miliary to our family was that it was our responsibility to maintain hope for our loved one. For the record, we didn’t need to be told to do that. It was second nature for us. I’m sure that is universally true for other MIA families as well.

When we pushed back on the decision for Ron’s classification to be changed, we were told in writing that the only way we could block the change was to provide proof that Ronnie was still alive.

It felt like “righteous indignation” from my perspective. Yet, there was nothing our family could do to alter the outcome. Ron’s status was changed from MIA. In so doing, I lost a lot of respect for the federal government. I was furious!

Interestingly, the following year, Congress changed the designation of those newly identified as Killed In Action/Body Not Recovered back to MIA. Obviously, ours was not the only family for whom the change felt like a brutal assault.

In December 2023, when there was conclusive evidence that Ronnie was Killed In Action, our family categorically became a Gold Star Family. We have lived with a sense of loss for 51 years. We have been a Gold Star Family for six months.

By definition, a “Gold Star Family” is one that has experienced a loss of a loved one-an immediate family member – who died as the result of active-duty military service. Those who die in service to their country leave behind parents, siblings, spouses, children and extended families. Those are recognized as Gold Star Families.

The designation goes back as far as WWI, but the gold star button was not designed until 1947. I recognize that tradition and military culture have a way of etching tradition into stone, but being a Gold Star Family Member doesn’t feel any differently than having a loved one who is MIA.

It is not my intent to ruffle feathers, but I think the definition of a Gold Star Family needs to be broadened. For 51 years our family lived with the painful awareness of Ronnie’s loss. It is a huge relief to know conclusively, that he is on the other side of eternity.

I believe that the families of MIAs should have the same recognition as a Gold Star Families. The loss is identical! I’m sure that many would disagree with me because of tradition and circumstance, but I maintain that my assessment is accurate.

So, if that change is not going to be made, the government should have to substantiate to the family that their loved one is still alive.

Yesterday, the General and I attended a Memorial Day Ceremony in the City of Lakeway. Karoni, Ronnie’s daughter, was on the program. She invited us to attend, and we wanted to show our support. The location of the ceremony was Emmaus Catholic Church. The architectural features of the church are magnificent.

The attendance was also impressive. So was the program. We left with a sense of gratitude for those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice to provide freedom and protection for our country.

All My Best!
Don

In Memory of Ronnie

Eight or nine years ago, I was invited to speak at a Memorial Day Ceremony in Nocona. Nocona is the small town where my brother and I were born. I was both honored and humbled by the invitation.

Truth be told, receiving the invitation created some anxiety on my part. I used to have a fear of public speaking. I’ve pretty much worked through that. However, I had never spoken at a Memorial Day Ceremony before and I had no idea even where to begin. I wanted to get it right.

Ronnie and I were born at Major Clinic Hospital in Nocona. That was longer ago than I care to remember. I know the name of the hospital only because it is written on my birth certificate.

My cousin who lives in Nocona sent me a note a three-or-four days before Memorial Day. She wanted to let me know that an announcement of the event was in the newspaper. Apparently, there wasn’t much news to report. The article was on the front page. The headline in bold letters said: “Twin Brother of MIA To Speak…” That raised my anxiety even more.

It’s true, my drawing card for the invitation was linked to my brother’s story. That made perfect sense. The invitation extended me, provided both a sense of privilege and humility. Yet, it was not just Ronnie’s story I was sharing. It was our story.

As twins, the fabric of our lives were so closely interwoven that we shared blended identities. With a tear or two in my eyes, I took seriously the responsibility to get it right.

The top of my Facebook page includes a picture of me and Ronnie along with our younger brother. The picture was taken about the time Ronnie and I started to elementary school. At least, that’s my best guess.

Most people probably thought were cute kids when we were little. During adolescence, my twin told me more than once that I was ugly. I always thought that was funny because he was a mirror image. He also playfully added that I was adopted.

It was all a part of the playful banter that went back and forth between us. We were close. We were also competitive. We looked identical, but in many respects, we were as different as night and day.

On 27 December 1972, the playful banter between us stopped. The A-6 Intruder aircraft in which Ronnie was flying left the military base in Nam Phong, Thailand for a night mission over North Vietnam. When the aircraft failed to return to the base at the anticipated hour, efforts were made to locate the downed plane but to no avail. At least that is what the report provided us by the military said. In recent years we learned that no reconnaissance efforts were employed. His status was changed to MIA.

As probably all of you are aware, our family was notified this past December that my brother’s remains had been identified. His crash site was excavated in the spring of 2023. I honestly had reached the place that I no longer allowed myself to hope that we’d ever have more information. Receiving the news was clearly an answer to prayers that had been prayed years ago.

So, after 51 years of not knowing if my brother was dead or alive, I finally had confidence that he was more alive than he’s ever been because he has been in the presence of Jesus all these years. It was as though a weight I’d been carrying for a very long time was finally lifted.

Yet, even amid a life-long struggle of uncertainty, at no time was I a stranger to God’s grace. For over five decades, I experienced and re-experienced every possible range of emotion. Through it all, I never experienced it in isolation.

The promises of God provided comfort and hope.

I was honored to speak at church yesterday in our pastor’s absence. The message had to do with the importance of trusting God. The narrative I’ve just shared is my introduction.

I asked my son-in-law Kevin if he would video the message. I wanted to post it in memory of my brother.

All My Best!
Don

To Love And To Cherish

Several years ago, I had a friend that worked for the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services in adult protective services. My background was in child protective services. He on the other hand chose a career path working with older adults. When our paths connected again, he told me he had to retire because the work was killing him.

Reportedly he should have had a caseload of 40 people, but instead it was 148 older adults. He said, “There was no way anyone could adequately cover that caseload.” His last assigned case was one he chose to remember.  Because of the nature of the report, he could have taken up to seven days to make contact.

He opted to do it immediately because there was only a twenty-four hour window that the nursing home would keep the man’s space reserved in the nursing home. If he didn’t return in that window of time, he’d be forever out of the place. So, what were the allegations?

Because of advanced Parkinson’s disease and the inability to live without assistance, the man had been placed in nursing home care. Yet, his wife who has Alzheimer’s had come to visit and he convinced her to check him out of the nursing home and take him home. The referral to adult protective services had been made because the social worker at the nursing home knew it was a catastrophe in the making.

So when my friend went to the home to investigate conditions, he asked the wife about her plan to provide support in caring for her husband. She said: “I’ve got people I can call.” He asked for names, and she didn’t have any. She did verbally agree that she wasn’t able to provide for her husband’s needs, but that she’d find help when the time came.

He asked again about her plan for doing so and she didn’t have a plan. In exasperation she said: “I can always call our son.” My friend responded: “That’s great. Let’s call him now”. When he called the son, the son was astounded. He screamed into the phone: “She did what? My mother isn’t able to take care of my dad.”

My friend then went to the back bedroom to talk to the husband with Parkinson’s. When asked if he thought his wife was physically capable of providing for his needs, he said “Yes”. My friend asked: “Do you remember your wedding vows? What did you promise your wife you’d do?” He said: “She promised to love, cherish and obey me.” “So, what did you promise her”, was my friend’s reply. The husband responded: “To love and to cherish”.

That led to: “So if you really love your wife, you’d understand that she doesn’t have the capacity to physically take care of you. In the process of trying, it will become too difficult for her. The stress associated with her need to take care of you when she’s not able, will eventually kill her.  Is that what you want to happen?”.

The man replied: “My room at the nursing home is too small.” My friend replied, “My question about your wedding vows has to do with what you promised to do for your wife. It isn’t about you. If you really love and cherish your wife, you’d know this is too difficult for her to do and she will die trying. Are you willing and ready to go back to the nursing home?” The man responded: “I guess so, but I don’t like it.”
​
My friend followed in his car as the couple made their way back to the nursing home. Once inside, the social worker at the nursing home asked my friend: “How did you manage to do this?” He replied: “I asked about their wedding vows. The husband knew I was right. It simply took a reminder for him to opt to do the right thing.”


All My Best!
Don

“It was just Parker being Parker”

A recent article associated to the mystery of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy caught my attention. There are some things the public will never know because it is thought by people holding the power that it is not in their best interest for us to know.  Most folks in my peer group remember where we were when we learned the President had been killed.  I still have a scrape book that I pulled together chronicling the news stories and press releases associated with the death of President Kennedy. Most probably remember the picture of a small boy, holding a small American flag and saluting the casket of his father.

Years ago, I listened to three audio books written by Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard that began with the word “Killing”. The books were “Killing Kennedy”, “Killing Jesus” and “Killing Lincoln”.

I guess when it comes to totally new information, the book on “Killing Lincoln” held more surprises for me than the other two. The book was released on September 27, 2011. It was the first of the three books written. Even then, I basically had the storyline regarding President Lincoln etched somewhere inside my head. However, I was unaware that John Wilkes Booth did not act alone and that attempted murder of others in strategically important places also transpired that same night.

One of the biggest surprises included in the book “Killing Lincoln” was historical reference to the unconscionable act of President Lincoln’s lone bodyguard. John Parker was one of four policemen on the Washington police force assigned responsibility for guarding the President.  The evening of the assassination instead of responsibly guarding the President, Parker opted to leave his post and go to the bar next door to the Ford Theatre and spend an extended period drinking.  After all, who wants to watch a play entitled, “The American Cousin”? 

I would think that vacating one’s post during his assigned shift would minimally be the basis for termination of one’s job.  Parker’s negligence and dereliction of duty could arguably be said to be a contributing factor resulting in the death of the President.  One would think that criminal charges would have resulted.

According to the historical record, Parker did not lose his job despite his failure to fulfill his responsibility. It was just “Parker being Parker”.  If you don’t believe it, look at his record.  Before being assigned the responsibility of being one of the four policemen responsible for guarding the President, the record shows:

“He was hauled before the police board numerous times facing a smorgasbord of charges that should have gotten him fired. But he received nothing more than an occasional reprimand.  His infractions included conduct unbecoming an officer, using intemperate language and being drunk on duty.  Charged with sleeping on a streetcar when he was supposed to be walking his beat, Parker declared that he heard duck’s quacking on the tram and climbed on to investigate.  The charge was dismissed.  When he was brought to the board for frequenting a house of prostitution, Parker argued that the proprietress had sent for him.”

How often in places of employment are employees excused from meeting minimal job expectations simply because they’ve never met them.  Somehow their employment is somehow viewed as an entitlement without accountability. 

Many years ago, when I worked for a public agency, I was assigned responsibility for supervising an employee who had been awarded her position based on an EEOC complaint.  To say that I’ll never forget the employee is an understatement.  Despite my best efforts to provide training, clear expectations regarding job performance, oversight and written corrective action plans, it eventually became clear the employee was consistently ineffective in her role.

Toward the end of her tenure working under my supervision, the employee eventually stopped showing up for employee conferences and sent her attorney instead. Providing supervision for the employee was a nightmare.  She simply did not meet expectations regarding her role in that position.  Consequently, it was my strong recommendation to HR that her employment be terminated. 

I had carefully prepared written documentation to back up my recommendation.  Legal counsel for the agency thought termination was risky considering the previous EEOC complaint.  Consequently, HR negotiated a transfer for the employee to an unrelated section of the agency. Crazy making, isn’t it?

If I could do it again, would I do it differently? You bet I would in areas related to supervision of employees who fell short of meeting job expectations.  Even when I worked for the public sector, I always attempted to be the kind of supervisor that promoted the best interest of employees and at the same time attempted to hold them accountable. However, sometimes under the auspices of “legal counsel”, in a spirit of “Let’s try one more thing to improve performance”, I deferred to their judgment. I’d be quicker to cut our losses now.

So how did John Parker, the absentee policeman and assigned body guard to President Lincoln manage to keep his job following the President’s assassination?  It was probably a work situation like the one I just mentioned.  You can count on it, “When employees are allowed to disregard policies and procedures, fail to meet job expectations and exercise less than prudent judgment, a supervisor’s failure to act quickly is tantamount to allowing substandard performance to become a way of life”.  When employees fail to meet corrective action plans, continuation of poor performance becomes toxic to the work environment.

A workforce is only as strong as its weakest link.  With John Parker on the Washington police force, the reputation of the agency and the safety of others was obviously at risk.


All My Best!

Don

Are You Focused and Unhurried?

A small booklet used to grace the shelves of one of my bookcases. Interestingly, I purchased the book before I even had a bookcase.  It subsequently graced the shelves of the first bookcase I ever built. I was a newly married student at the time.  The General and I got married in the summer of 1968.  I graduated from college the following May.

For the record, I still have the same wife and I still have the bookcase. Across the years, the bookcase has been stained, painted, stripped and re-stained.  I tend to prefer wooden surfaces that are unpainted. 

I suspect you might be hard pressed to find that at IKEA.  That may not be true.  I said that only because I have two friends that bought kitchen cabinets from IKEA. Both friends chose white cabinets.  I have only been in an IKEA store one time.  An hour later when I emerged, I promised not to go back. Once you are inside the store, finding you way out is a challenge.

For the record, having a wife was good for my GPA. My senior year in college, I made straight As.  I could say that explaining something other than As to my parents was easier than explaining my grades to the General. Truth be told, my college courses my senior year were all dedicated to subjects I enjoyed.  I can assure you that physics and algebra were not part of that year’s curriculum. Had they been my grades would have been significantly different.

In 1967 Charles Hummel wrote a small thought-provoking book entitled: “The Tyranny of The Urgent.”  In a nutshell he suggested that our lives are out of whack because we allow what we perceive to be urgent to replace things that are important. He maintained that life was intended to be lived unhurried and focused.  Can you imagine?

As I recall the book only took a few minutes to read. What I remember most about the book is Hummel’s assertion that the telephone was the most intrusive invention to negatively impact our lives.  This was decades before cell phones were even a consideration.

Today I have many friends who have family cell phone plans so that all their children can have one.  For the record, each kid was issued a cell phone while they were in grade school. 

I had a difficult enough time keeping up with a Big Chief Tablet and #2 pencil. I can’t imagine being in the fourth grade and keeping up with a cell phone.  Getting back to Hummel’s book, would you describe your life as focused and unhurried?

Focused and unhurried are two principles it would serve me well to embrace. 

All My Best!

Don

Mayday – Mayday – Mayday

I collect stories. An illustration shared in a post-resurrection sermon delivered by Dr. Stacy Conner, Senior Pastor of First Baptist Church, Muleshoe, TX caught my attention.  The illustration came from The Rt. Rev. John McKee Sloan who served as the 11^th Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Alabama.  Reportedly, Kee was ordained a priest in 1982 and became a bishop in 2008.  He is now retired. Kee grew up in Vicksburg, MS. He is now retired. He and his wife live in Birmingham, AL.

When I heard the story about the blind man who jumped off a high diving board, I knew that I wanted to know more. My search for the illustration led me to a trilogy of books written by Kee Sloan (The Rt. Rev. John McKee Sloan). The included: Jabbok, Beulah and Prodigal.  I was fortunate not to find the illustration until mid-way through the last book.

Had I found the illustration in the first book, I could have concluded that I found what I was looking to find and may have chosen not to read more.  Had that been the case, I would have lost out.  The trilogy of books (all fiction) are about an Episcopal priest named Buddy. Yet, in the introduction of his first book, Kee says of Buddy that his story is a fictional autobiography.

Throughout the three books, Buddy always chooses to tell people to call him Buddy. He preferred that over Pastor Buddy or Priest Buddy. I can’t imagine that he would ever have been comfortable as the Right Reverend. He was the kind of man that gave priority to relationships. Being called by his first name carried the kind of comfort you find in a well worn pair of jeans.

The illustration I was hoping to find related to the funeral message for a nine-year old girl.  She was walking across the street to get in the car with her mother who was picking her up from school.  In so doing, she was hit by the car and died instantly.

Reportedly, when Buddy first learned of the tragedy, his immediate reaction was his desire to go visit with the family.  I can imagine the thoughts that filled his head as he made his way to the family’s home.  In fact, he had not quite sorted out what he was going to say and subsequently, drove past the home. He gently redirected himself and eventually made it to the family’s home.

Sometimes, preachers, extended family members and close friends often feel obligated to share something thoughtful to explain away the kind of pain and sense of loss that a family is experiencing.  With few exceptions, I suspect the words do more harm than good. There are some things for which no explanation is satisfactory.

Consequently, I most often let my presence and the tears in my eyes do the talking for me. There is nothing one can say surrounding the untimely death of a nine-year-old that will provide an aha moment. 

During the interim between news of the death and the subsequent funeral service, Buddy sorted and resorted his thoughts. It weighed heavily upon his heart.  Shortly before the service was to begin, Buddy’s wife told him he’d do great.  He said something closely akin to: “You don’t understand, I have nothing to say.”  Recounting a recent conversation with Buddy, she suggested the story of the blind man jumping off the high diving board. Buddy was filled with gratitude. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

As he stood to speak, he briefly shared about the special camp for adults with disabilities and that he had paired Edward, a blind man with Zach, a 16-year-old camp counselor that was kind of a knucklehead. On the last day of camp, someone rushed in his office to tell him that Edward was about to jump off the high diving board.

He hurried to the pool! He saw immediately that Zach had followed Edward up the ladder and surmised that he had provided Edward step by step details associated to what he could not see. Can you imagine the trust it took for Edward to let go of the rail?   Can you imagine the sensation of the sandpaper like surface of the diving board and walk forward until he sensed his toes wrapped over the edge? It would take absolute trust of the counselor on Edward’s part to jump into the darkness.

Buddy suggested: “Faith is not about understanding. Faith is about who you trust. So here we are, up here in the dark. And all we can do is let go and jump in, or stand here for the rest of our lives. But we are not alone – we are never alone. The One who’s up here with us has been through all of this before.  That’s what Good Friday and Easter is all about…Even when we don’t know, even when we’re lost, we have each other. Even when we are filled with doubt and we’re afraid, we’re not alone: our Lord Jesus is up there with us in the darkness saying: ‘Let go, step out, jump in. Even when you can’t trust yourself, you can trust me!

Of course, Buddy’s message had far more than this, but this is the story I wanted to find and I will keep it because it resonates with me.

All My Best!

Don