The Solitary Seeker

A confessional

2008-06-05T15:01:00.001-05:00

It’s not easy to write this, but it is a story that must be told. All of us are quick to laud our favorable exploits, but the sad, tragic stories often go untold. Unfortunately, by keeping those stories to ourselves, we restrict the outpourings of grace that can come our way. Maybe we do not tell them because we do not want to subject ourselves to the ridicule that will also surely come. We do not want to be reminded of our shortcomings and our failures. But we all have shortcomings, and we all fail in one degree or another.

Here’s my story: I am a convicted felon. It is not something I am proud of. These are words I would rather not write, and I know that some have already judged me on the basis of this conviction. That is their right, but I hope you will continue reading and reserve judgment. On February 28, 2008, I entered a guilty plea to securities fraud in the 339^th Judicial District Court in Houston, Texas. There’s a long story associated with this, and in time, I am sure I will tell most, if not all, of it. Why did I plead guilty? Well, I did it. I operated an illegal investment fund for a number of years. Some friends were victims of my crime, and I deeply lament the position I put them in, as well as everyone else.

As I write this (Thursday, June 5) I know not what the future holds for me. My punishment ranges from probation to the rest of my days institutionalized. In late January 2006, I was visited by three officials from the Texas State Securities Board. I did not realize it at the time, but this was an answer to my prayers of the last several years. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but pride would not permit me to acknowledge my failure and exit the criminal enterprise I headed. To leave it behind – the right thing to do – I would have to admit my failure, and ultimately, maybe end up prosecuted. My hope and prayer was to stick it out and hopefully I could make things right. I even had a 5-year plan to do just that.

But that was not in keeping with God’s will, living EACH day as He would have us live. God had waited on me long enough, and He was not willing to wait an additional 5 years, which might have strung out even longer than that (do plans usually go according to Hoyle?). After several days of sleepless nights and angst-filled days, on February 4, I gave it over to God. But getting to that point required me to venture to the valley of hopelessness and despair that few people ever go.

On February 4, I was scheduled to drive to Waco, Texas to cook barbecue, one of my favorite things to do. I had decided that the shame and guilt and embarrassment and pain was too much to endure and had decided, that if possible, I would end all of it – the pain, the investigation, the repercussions of the investigation, and the looming prosecution – by taking my life. It was not something I decided easily or flippantly. But that was my solution, or so I thought. I had even gone so far as to envision the scenario: there is a stretch of Highway 6 between Calvert and Hearne that is just one lane in each direction. There have been several fatal accidents along this stretch over the 20+ years, and I had decided that I would drift across the center line into the path of an oncoming 18-wheeler. Sure enough, as I left Hearne and approached Mud Creek (the very stretch of highway I had pictured in my plan), I topped the hill and began my descent. A couple of miles ahead, heading south was an 18-wheeler. We would meet at the bottom of hill near the creek. I slipped off my seat belt and prepared for the event. And for the first time in my life, I felt the direct intervention of God in my life. On many other times, I had felt his presence and will. But this time was different. I felt His hand. I heard his intervention. I heeded His plea. “Don’t do this. It solves nothing and only messes up one more person. TRUST ME.”

So I did as He told me. I shelved those plans and when the truck driver passed, he waved. I returned the greeting. And just as quickly as I felt God’s presence, I felt all alone again. Maybe I was so consumed in my own emotions at the time. But there I was, an hour or so out of Waco, alone with my thoughts. The day passed uneventfully, except for a small confession to two friends that I was being investigated and that I was scared.

Later that night, while sitting in the guest room of another friend, God was back (though I know He never really left – I just stopped listening). “Trust Me, David. I’ll see you through this if you just let me.” And for the first time in several days, I felt peace. I slept through the night that night, for the first time in nearly a week.

I sat in court and listened to my crime reconstructed, and I listened to and watched the people who trusted me testify against me about how I had hurt them. And I did hurt them. Some have been gracious and forgiven me. Others are bitter and angry (and that is also justified). The friends who have pledged their support are friends I don’t deserve. I know this. I am a better person because of them.

Maybe I will write more. Maybe this will be my last post – I don’t know. For those of you who have prayed, keep praying. For those of you who are bitter, I hope something soothes that bitterness for life is too short to be consumed by it.

I know that God will be glorified in all this. I do trust God. He can and will see me through all this. God and I are tight now. I hope all of you reading this can experience that kind of closeness with God without going through what I had to go through (because of my pride) to get there.

Cell phone etiquette

2008-05-20T11:47:00.002-05:00

I used to love cell phones. I even loved my cell phone. But folks have forgotten the rules of etiquette when it comes to a cell phone. What prompted this blog was what I witnessed this weekend at the restaurant. There was a woman, probably mid-thirties, very attractive, dining with seven other people. This is a nice place; the total bill was in excess of $300, so we are not talking about a local drive-in. While the other folks at the table conversed with one another, she talked. On her cell phone. For 20 minutes. I am NOT exaggerating on the time. In other words, she decided that she would rather talk to someone not there than someone was there spending part of their evening with her. At one point, her other cell phone rang, and I kid you not, she had a phone up to each ear as she sat the table.

I spoke with their server. She told me it was all she could do to keep from saying something. I wish folks would turn the damn phone off. I understand that emergencies arise and you have to be in contact with the office, or folks at home. But when that happens in public, excuse yourself from the table and take the call out of the dining area. Few things are so important that you must take the call right then. But if it is such an occasion, such as you are a physician on call, but courteous to your table mates and the folks dining around. Excuse yourself and have a brief, quiet conversation in a private place. But by all means, take it away from the dining table and out of the dining room.

Being able to stay connected to the rest of the world 24 hours a day is a good thing. But like all good things, it too can be abused. And sometimes, it is a good thing to disconnect from that world for a bit and enjoy the company of real people having a real conversation, without the involvement of bits, bytes, or bandwidth.

A funny thing happened on the way to grouchiness....

2008-05-12T02:32:00.001-05:00

Occasionally, but all too infrequently, something – or if you are lucky, someone – catches your eye from across the room and everything changes. Not always for the better, but since I am a curmudgeonly optimist, let’s go with that one. If we go with the other option, no one invites you to parties or to bowl or to dinner. You pretty much become the drag in other peoples’ lives that you are in your own.

You see it. Perspectives change. The sky seems bluer. The grass is greener. It may be a woman. In my case, it would not be a man, but it might be in yours, and that’s okay, since you may be a woman. And that’s okay too.

No, lightning did not strike. Fireworks did not go off. Love was not in the air. And all that’s okay too. But perspectives changed. And when perspectives change, you’ve changed. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. But changing perspectives means changing yourself, and changing yourself is growing, which we should never stop doing. Changing yourself is also something you learn to do at an early age and don’t stop doing until your kids move you into “a home,” as if the one you were living in was not longer a home. They call it “a home” not because it is one – it’s simply a place to go and die, and if you are lucky, it is a place where you will live, a little or a lot, until you do. It is called a home not for your benefit, but for your kids that moved you into one, so that they can feel better about uprooting you to go live with a bunch of other folks closer to the tomb than the womb. But I’m not talking about that kind of changing yourself.

Seeing the world a little differently – that’s what I am talking about. If you think about it, each one of us is pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things (and that’s okay) but in the little microcosm of our lives and the people we see daily, we can be pretty damn significant. Or not so significant, depending on how you want it.

You’ve read this far and are expecting me to tell you about some wonderful new woman (and she is, but not necessarily in the way you are thinking) or some fantastic new job (and it is, for the most part) or love (it’s a best thing, when you are as prepared for it as the person whom you love), I am sorry to disappoint you. Guess what? It probably will not be the last time.

This is not about any of those things, but at the same time it is about all of those things. This one is about having someone make a difference in your life just by a smile, or a touch, or the twinkle in her eye, and feeling that difference so much that it changes your perspective that you want to reciprocate. Not out of selfish gratification, and not necessarily to that someone. You know the kind: maybe she likes me the same way I like her. In fact, this is about as far from that as you can be. This is the sort of change that happens in an instant yet at the same time is a lifelong process. It’s a realization that you can make a difference in someone else’s life that nets you absolutely nothing. Well not exactly nothing. It gives you pleasure, fulfillment, a purpose, and a sense of well-being.

And if she calls you “darling” or “sweetheart” with an evocative European accent, scratches your back (or your larger than it should be tummy) with her nails, and has the most delightful set of honey brown eyes that accent her wonderfully curly blond hair (no better head of hair exists on the face of this Earth – it’s true), than it’s all the better.

RIP BAYLOR UNIVERSITY: 1845 - 2008

2008-03-25T02:28:00.003-05:00

In the last few weeks, rumors have flied at Baylor University that a dozen professor up for tenure were denied. Twelve does not sound like a lot, but it was 12 out of 30. That is an astounding 40%. Each of these professors invested 6 years or so at Baylor, and all of them had the recommendations of faculty, Deans and the University Tenure Committee, Some of these recommendations were unanimous. Yet apparently, this was not enough. There are also plenty of rumors floating around that the rules for tenure approval were changed by Baylor, sometimes without notifying the tenure-track professors that the standards had changed. This is wrong, especially when committed by the largest Christian university in the world and a university that holds onto and cherishes its historic Baptist and Christian identity.

The Waco Tribune-Herald has written on the issue here.

On Baylor community bulletin board I said that if these rumors of drastic tenure denial numbers were true, Baylor had a bad case of institutional failure. If Baylor truly aspires to be a Christian university, what is Christian about the apparent deception in the standards applied to the tenure process by the administration? How are we to take seriously the Provost's statement that faculty voices are strongly considered when all of the evidence indicates directly the opposite?

Let's go ahead and admit what has been obvious to me for some time, although not acknowledged publicly, at least by me -- Vision 2012, the long-range plan of Baylor University, is a COLOSSAL failure. It has changed Baylor University, but not for the better. Our reputation in the academic community is a laughingstock. It has divided the university and the Baylor community. Maybe Don Schmeltekopf should put that is his Crossroads book; any objective assessment of the Vision would have to concur.

The goals, or imperatives of 2012 are admirable. The by-product of 2012 is shameful and embarrassing. The board is unaccountable; this usually is not a problem with self-perpetuating board since those member tend to take their tasks seriously and responsibly. Ours does not. Responsibility is a foreign word to the governing faction of this BOR. Good people on the BOR want to step down, but our fearful if they do so, the Cabal only strengthens its hold on the university and none of their actions will see the light of day.

I hope folks will show up at the next regents' meeting and demand openness and an audience. It is a shame when the State of Texas and the governing bodies of the TAMU and UT have higher standards on openness and transparency than our own Board does. When the Bliss scandal broke, former Baylor president Robert Sloan said we would tackle that problem with openness and transparency. I challenged him personally to apply that same standard to university governance. Obviously, he decloned my challenge.

Five years ago or so, I showed up (along with a couple of other folks who could not be as public as I) and demonstrated on the steps of Pat Neff Hall, broom in hand, protesting the presidency of Sloan. It's time for more civil disobedience: peacefully attend the BOR meeting; demand to be heard and seen and to hear all that transpires. Demand no executive session for the BOR, except under the standards set forth by the Texas Open Meeting Act, If it is good enough for the state, TAMU and UT, it should be good enough for Baylor.

I know there are good people right int he middle of this who are conflicted and torn about all this. Some even may have even played a role in this. I am living proof that redemption is possible. So too is it possible for Baylor University. But the Baylor I came to know and love no longer exists. She is dead. But as we observed last Sunday, resurrection is possible. Sadly, I don't think it will come after only three days. But I pray that it comes. And soon.

RIP Baylor University.

Why I Hate Self-Checkouts

2008-02-07T22:47:00.000-06:00

Stopped in at my not so local Super Center tonight, and after picking up a few things, I made an impulse buy of Rockstar Pomegranate. I ring it up in the self-check line. Cost = $5.00! What!?! I ask the lady (quite young, so maybe lady isn't the best descriptive) if it really cost $5 (normally at my not so local Super Center, the cost is about $2). She verifies that it is. "Are you really sure? Could you look that up?"

She fumbles through some papers and types a few buttons on her computer, which I am now convinced was merely a ruse to let me know that she was looking the price up. "Yessir," -- she gets props at least for being polite -- "that's the right price." Stunned, I place my can of Rockstar on her lectern and cancel my order and move myself out of line. Flummoxed, I am determined to find a drink case with the price displayed. Sure enough, two lanes over, staffed by a real person, I see Rockstar Pomegranate and it is priced $1.88. I buy a can and the cashier rings it up -- again $5.00

"Doesn't that seem a little high?" I inquire.

"Yeah, I guess it does." He seemed genuinely concerned. Really. Not at all like the girl at the lectern.

"The sign on the front of the case says they are $1.88," I inform him.

"Yeah. that seems more normal," and he keys in $1.88.

Real interaction. Real results. And someone acted like they gave a damn.

Bernanke's (Failed) Gamble

2008-02-07T14:23:00.000-06:00

First, let me state that Ben Bernanke was an outstanding choice for Fed chairman. In fact, it may end up being W's legacy, other than John Roberts as Chief Justice.

But the recent stock market action has demonstrated the fatal flaw in Ben's strategy: what if the interest rates don't work? How low can you go? Japan tried this in the 90s, and its economy has been mired in recession more often than not. And that is a nation of savers rather the debtors.

What Ben should do:

1. Recognize the inflation that is already present. You combat inflation by making cheap money more expensive. I am not advocating an increase in interest rates, but you've got to stop lowering them.

2. Bring back the dollar. The weakness of the dollar has helped our exports, but a strong dollar is good for America. Bob Rubin established that once and for all.

3. Stop selling out to the big boys of Wall Street. Yes. Merrill, Goldman, JP Morgan, BoA mean a lot to the economy. And if they are doing well, the economy is probably doing well. But correlation is not causality. The Four Horsemen of Wall Street do well when the economy does well; they do not cause the economy to do well.

4. Admit that it is okay for the stock indices to slide. Even significantly.

5. Announce the Hillary's plan to freeze mortgage interest rates and impose a moratorium on foreclosures is perhaps the worst thing that could happen to housing industry. If the gov't wants to do something to help (and I am not so sure it should), then it should establish a pool of funds available to qualified mortgagees that pays the banks and extends the term of the mortgage, whereupon the govt would be repaid when the house is sold or the mortgage is paid off. Yes, this would cause a lot of folks to be upside down in their houses. But I am not unconvinced that is a bad thing. They still have a place to live. They have affordable notes. They don't have any equity available to overextend themselves and further indebt themselves with HELOCs and the like.

6. Use his bully pulpi to advocate a progressive consumption tax. We tax things we want to discourage. We incentivize things we want to encourage. So the USA, in its wisdom, has decided to tax income and incentivize debt. Go figure. I think a flat tax would be better in theory, but it will never sell. Instead, your tax return should ask two questions: how much did you make, and how much did you save. Your tax is based on the difference. As it goes up, so too does your tax rate. And you can still retain the biggest hoax ever perpetuated on us by the government: withholding.

7. Lastly, and restated because IMO it is the most important, fix the damn dollar. A weak dollar benefits some corporations and Wall Street, but Main Street hurts. When Wall Street is healthy, Main Street may not be. But when Main Street is healthy, Wall Street is too.

Big Love in a Small Town

2008-01-03T23:35:00.000-06:00

First of all, let me say that I am in love with Sarah Johns. She's as country as it gets and a great singer. She wrote or co-wrote everything on her CD that bears the title of this post. Honky tonk angel is a phrase that comes to mind when I hear her sing, but she also knows the power of a good ballad.

I recommend her CD, but just remember -- she's mine.

A corporate farm defender repents, part 2

2007-12-19T00:11:00.000-06:00

How bad has it gotten? How about genetic engineering of plants so that the plants cannot reproduce? Anyone remember the old slogan from the commercial of the 1970s? It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature.

My grandfather had a small garden at his house, and I learned from him that some seed had to be set aside for next year's crop. Monsanto, one of the six agribusiness giants that control 98% of the world's seed sales, has described "seed savers" as competitors and allocate more than $10 million each year to investigate and persecute these farmers -- whether they are big or small. Agribusiness seed "manufacturers" (they are more akin to factories than agricultural providers, IMO) have genetically spliced animal and/or bacterial genes into its seed, making the crop commit suicide so that there cannot be a second generation by setting back seeds. The farmer is forced to buy new seed from agribusiness.

And intellectual property law allows these agribusiness interests to patent their seeds, not just the seed technology. Big deal, right? Just ask Percy Schmeiser. Percy Schmeiser is a Canadian farmer who was sued by Monsanto to the tune of $145,000. Why? Because on a portion of Schmeiser's 1,030 acres some of Monsanto's patented canola seed had drifted. However, Monsanto admitted that Schmeiser did not plant the seeds. The fact is that the canola seeds did exactly what they have been doing for thousands if not millions of years: they drifted or were transferred by birds or insects.

There mere possession of these genetically-modified canola plants, even though he did not know he had them on his property placed Schmeiser in violation of the law. Furthermore, Schmeiser did what he had been doing for more than 50 years: he had been setting aside seed, like many farmers do. Possessing plants produced by these patented seed and possession of the seeds themselves (even though he did not know he possessed them) rendered Schmeiser guilty at trial, and the conviction was upheld by an appellate court (5-4) but Monsanto was denied any compensation. Canadian organic farmers have sued Monsanto and Aventis for making it impossible for them now to grow organic canola. The genetically-modified genie is out of the bottle, and there is no getting it back in. Fifteen countries have banned the importation of all Canadian canola because of contamination, over which Monsanto sued an unknowing farmer.

Can't happen here? Not only can it, but the federal government has ensured that big agribusiness will win with the passage of the National Uniformity for Food Act. Two dozen states had passed or proposed legislation to block or limit genetically-modified products, until the feds, backed by corporate agribusiness, intervened with NUFA, which would eliminate any and all food safety and labeling laws that differed from federal requirements.

A corporate farm defender repents, part 1

2007-12-15T00:10:00.000-06:00

I've always been a pro-business guy. If it was good for business, it was good for America. For the most part. There are always exceptions, but I never considered corporate farming to be one of those, until recently.

I am a foodie. I always have been. I do a little moonlighting on the line at a nice restaurant, and love to show my culinary skills whenever I can. I;ve never been opposed to big corporate agribusiness farming operations, and for the most part, I still am not. But I no longer think that is in the best interest of the country. My repentance has nothing to do with the plight of the family farmer. What prompted it is the really crappy food being turned out by the mega-food processing companies.

Someone somewhere discovered that corn was great for fattening cattle just before slaughter. But cattle aren't made to eat corn. A cow is a ruminant -- meaning it has four stomachs for digesting rather nasty and tough vegetation like range grass. On the other hand, corn is rather sweet, loaded with calories and fat when compared to grass, and it is digested in a completely different way from the way a cow digests grass. As a result of large scale feedlot operations, the USA has been slaughtering a bunch of unhealthy cows -- unhealthy because of their diet. We're feeding a machine corn when it is designed to run on grass. How is that different from running diesel in a gasoline engine? The engine will still run, but not nearly as effectively as it would otherwise. And while corn-fed beef does taste good, it is nothing compared to grass-fed beef.

If you haven't tried grass-fed beef yet, give it a shot. The taste is noticeably different, and you might not even like it at first. But it is cow the way cow is supposed to taste.

But why corn? Could it be Cargill and Archer Daniels Midland (ADM)? I'm not a big enough conspiracy nut to suggest that these two large agribusiness operations are behind it, but when you consider that they do set a lot of farm policy for the government through their powerful lobbying efforts, it's not a hard jump to make. There is no doubt the feedlot operation benefits the corn growers, and these two companies are two of the largest.

Feedlot operations also make it cheaper to produce beef. Instead of large grassy ranges, you now have much smaller lots. But does this really benefit the cattle rancher? Not really, if one considers that the ranchers now have to truck their beeves (I love the Brits' plural form) off to these feedlots, which are concentrated near huge slaughterhouses. Once upon a time, nearly every rural county had a slughterhouse where local beef was slaughtered, produced, and sold. Now Texas beef islikely to end up in Iowa or Nebraska, then trucked back down after processing to Texas. It seems we have added an unnecessary middleman. Middlemen are ner good for the guy at the end of the line, in this case, the farmer.

Give grass-fed beef a try. You may even have to try it a few times, because the taste is distinctly different. And buy local if you can. I'm in the process of reading Barbara Kingsolver's food memoir Animal, Vegetable, Miracle right now. In the book, she urges folks to buy local. My restaurant does, when it can, and I am a big fan of restaurants that do -- Alice Waters was one of the pioneers of this movement.

I'll have more on this later,including the awakening I had when I tasted a heritage hog and a real wild turkey recently. I may never buy pork at the megamart again.

In A Perfect World

2007-12-12T14:32:00.000-06:00

As a teenager growing up in the Houston area in the late 70s and early 80s, it was impossible to escape all of the Urban Cowboy craze and Gilley-abilia associated with that movie. But somewhere therein, I discovered the hard, honky-tonk edge and the soul of "real" country music in artists like Gene Watson, Merle Haggard, and Gary Stewart, and in old-timers like Hank Thompson, Eddy Arnold, and Ray Price. There have been brief resurgences led by folks like George Strait, Marty Stuart, Dwight Yoakum, and unexpected newcomers like Teddy Thompson.

But country music -- more accurately, the music executives in Nashville -- sold its soul to formulaic jingles sung by beefcake crooners who rarely knew the heartache of real life, and it was reflected in their music. It was once said that the reason Hank Williams (the original version) was so good was because he had spent a lot of time staring at the south-bound end of a north-bound mule. The formulaic crooners, on the other hand, rarely experienced such hardships unless their stylist canceled their coiffure and manicure appointment.

But the soul of country music, while abandoned by Nashville music honchos, did not disappear. Recently, Raul Malo (formerly of The Mavericks) covered ten classics on his After Hours release. And Teddy Thompson's Up Front & Down Low CD did the same. As good as these CDs are, they are jazzier arrangements of old country standards (more so Raul Malo's) and they still lack the hard edge of a guy (or girl) singing sincerely about experiencing the pain and misfortune, or the joy and peace that is the subject of a good country tune because he's lived it himself.

Then along came (again) Gene Watson. A native of the east Texas town of Palestine, Gene worked in an auto body shop while singing each night in clubs in and around Houston. His music career took off during those great old days aforementioned, with such hits as Paper Rosie and Should I Go Home or Should I Go Crazy. Gene's back, and better than ever. This month, he released In A Perfect World.

His voice is still as pure and sincere and honest as it was a quarter century ago. Sadly, I don't suspect that he will get much airtime on commercial radio. After all, he's hardcore; he's in his 60s now. All he does is sing and sing well, and sadly that's enough for today's Nashville.

The CD contains fantastic covers of Don't You Ever Get Tired of Hurting Me and Merle Haggard's Today I Started Loving You Again. He is joined by such notables as Connie Smith, Joe Nichols, Vince Gill, Mark Chestnutt, and Lee Ann Womack, who instead of stealing part of the spotlight from one of the purest voices ever to grace country radio, are largely content to harmonize with Gene. A notable exception to this is the duet with Rhonda Vincent on the Buck Owens (or if you prefer, George Jones and Tammy Wynette) classic, Together Again.

While the covers of the classics are great, it is the seven new songs that make this CD worth having in your collection. The title song evokes the sadness of a lost love and how life was perfect when his wife and little girl were still with him, but now, along with his dreams of the perfect world, they are gone. A Good Place to Turn Around is a hopeful song of redemption for a wayward soul, made all the more poignant by Gene's expressive vocalization.

This is Gene's first release on the Shanachie label, and I hope this will be the first of many. Kudos to Gene for sticking to what he does best, and what he does better than most -- still true country music with an edge and with a voice that is one of the best in the business. Unfortunately, I doubt this CD will ever get much radio play. But that is even more reason to add it to your library.

It's a good day when the heart and soul of country music reappears. It's even more joyous when it's from someone who never left it.

My Advent Wish

2007-12-05T23:30:00.000-06:00

While we tend to get caught up in the Christmas season while still digesting our Thanksgiving turkey (or even shopping for it sometimes), in reality this is the season of Advent. It is not a time for celebration, but for reflection and preparation. Over the last couple of years, and especially since September 12, I have been forced to do some preparation, and I wish this on none of you. However, there are things that CAN be done.

I know that many things have changed in the world and in the lives of the people around me in the past year. And things have changed dramatically for me over the past year. Some things have been good changes, and some have been more difficult or sad. I do not know what my future holds, and frankly, I cannot worry about that. I can spend my time worrying about things I can change and trying to make life better for those around me. Hopefully, most of the time, I succeed.

The truest test of a person is how they treat others when times are tough, so I hope that we are all able to be kind to one another during the hard times and also when things are good. Life is a series of mountaintops and valleys. For too long, I expected the mountaintops, almost like I was entitled to them, and did what I could to maintain the mountaintops. But real life lessons are learned in the valleys, and real life is the ascending and descending of life's terrain. One cannot simply dream about mountaintops and expect them; it takes work and perseverance. Similarly, one cannot tarry in the valleys. Learn the lessons contained therein and begin ascending again. But ascend to the top knowing full well that there is a descent on the other side, so take stock in those mountaintop moments, cherish them, and store up your treasures. They will be needed for the forthcoming descent and subsequent ascent.

Stuff does not matter. The people with whom we share our lives do. My prayers for all of you this Christmas holiday season is that you discover and the joy of being close to those you love, and that this circle is bigger than it was last year, even if just by one person; that you have the opportunity (and take advantage of it) to do good deeds for others, especially when you do not take any credit or reward for it; and that you are part of a community of folks (yes, even strange bedfellows) who strive to make the world a better place than they found it.

It was just like the time I met Mickey Mantle...

2007-11-17T23:56:00.001-06:00

When I was just out of college, I met the Mick. He was the guy my dad idolized when he was growing up. And there I was time, 4-5 inches taller than the Mick. I was bigger than one of my heroes (I was still skinny back then). It was a heart-breaking moment.

Tonight, I go to Lüke, John Besh's brasserie in New Orleans. And I was non-plussed. Yes, that was perhaps the most perfect cup of soup I have ever had in my life (corn and crab bisque). And the fries were exquisite. But you don't send a sandwich to the floor that has been over-toasted to the point of being more than a crouton. The bread was burnt. And much of it not worth eating, so I didn't.

And the service was bad too (how about a water glass that is chipped and broken?). I know Besh is good. I am praying that it was just an off night in the restaurant instead of the amateur hour it seemed to be. I've seen more than a few restaurants run by great chefs slide into mediocrity because they rested on the laurels of the celebrity chef. I hope this is not one of those times.

I lost a hero this week ...

2007-10-13T00:19:00.000-05:00

On Thursday, October 11, 2007, my Pappaw turned 89 years old. At 7:45 that night, he passed away after a long illness and much pain. He left behind his wife of almost 70 years, two children, four grandchildren, one step-grandchild, five great-grandchildren and three step great-grandchildren. He had eleven siblings and half-siblings; only one survives.

He was a decorated war veteran and a career Air Force man. He served in the Pacific Theater in World War II and was a veteran of the Battle for Guadalcanal. He was a member of the unit that intercepted and shot down the plane carrying Admiral Yamamoto over the Solomon Islands. He joined the service in the late 1930s after watching planes fly overhead to the new Barksdale Airfield while he picked cotton. He told me he joined because the Army had to be better than picking cotton. I had the privilege once of seeing him with other members of his unit. One man pulled me aside and told me that no one was respected and revered more in that squadron than Sgt. Hilburn. He said he owed his life to my Pappaw.

After an lengthy and honorable service to his country, serving around the world and retiring as a Senior Chief Master Sergeant, he embarked on a second career as a civil service employee of the military. All combined, the United States was served by my Pappaw for more than 40 years.

But Pappaw was first and foremost a family man. Not many people know that he turned down a battlefield commission in WWII. Had he accepted it, he would have had to stay in the Pacific Theater for the duration of the war. As an enlisted man, he could go home earlier. When he set sail for the South Pacific in 1942, Mammaw was great with child, and at the time of the offer of a commission in the Army Air Corps, Pappaw's dream was to get home and see his wife and meet his son for the first time. Declining the commission was, he thought, the quickest way to get it done, As fate would have it, he ended up staying for the duration of the war anyway. I always thought it was a bit unfair, and even asked him if he wanted me to pursue a retroactive commissioning based on not going home when promised. He told me he made it home safely and the military gave him a wonderful life and career and that he was proud to have been a Chief Master Sergeant.

While his memory failed him the last decade or so of his earthly life, he could still recount every detail of his beloved P-38. He took great pride in the fact that he never lost a pilot to a mechanical problem. "Those were my planes; I just let those other guys fly them." Every time he said this to me, there would be a twinkle in his eye and a little smile; I never knew if he was kidding or being serious. Maybe it was both. He loved to kid and joke, but never in a mean-spirited way. For the 44 years I knew him, he built people up. It is said that in the last days of the life of the Apostle John, all he had the strength to do was tell people to love each other. That was Pappaw too. He had his flaws, but he never ceased to love. When new folks joined the family, it was always Pappaw who made them feel at home. The rest of us may have been measuring them or sizing them up, but not Pappaw -- he just loved them and welcomed them.

When my brother and I were young, Mammaw and Pappaw used to take us on vacation with them. We saw the Grand Canyon, Disney World and Carlsbad Caverns. Those are cherished memories of my childhood. On one of those vacations, he taught me it was okay for men to cry when he got the news that his friend and neighbor Jack had died suddenly. But remember, he put family first, and my brother and I still got to see Disney World as Aunt Peggy and John Michael flew out to Orlando while he and Mammaw flew home. While he put his family first, his friends and their families were never far behind.

The last thing the two of us did alone together was go to a baseball game about two or three years ago in Houston. The Astros were playing the Cardinals. He didn't remember where he was or where we were going, but when we arrived at the ballpark, he became full of life (baseball has a way of doing that). He told me stories of the Gashouse Gang Cardinals of the 30s, and how he and his brothers would try to listen to the Cardinals games on KMOX on the old radio. They usually didn't get a chance to do so though. He could not tell me a thing about the current Cardinals or Astros -- he didn't have the memory for that. But hearing stories of baseball the way he remembered it made that night special. He was charming, innocently flirting with the stadium attendant who looked after his needs -- it was easy to understand why Mammaw fell for him. And just when I thought he might not be paying attention to the game going on in front of him, he asked me why the umpire through the ball out of play each time it hit the ground? If a pitch hit the dirt, the umpire switched balls and threw the dirty one out. If there was a ground ball to an infielder, after time out was called, the ball was switched out. I thought I had paid attention to ballgames before, but until he pointed it out to me, I never noticed it before. For a brief evening, I had my Pappaw back -- the man who taught me how to throw a curve ball and how to catch a pop fly (even though it caused him tremendous pain in his back to do so -- remember, he put his family ahead of everything, including his own well-being). On the way home that night, he asked me where we were and where we were going, and he had no memory of what we had done for the last three hours. The next day, he asked me if I took him to see a ball game, and when I told him I had, he thanked me for it and gave me the score and told me he thought he wasn't ever going to get to see a big league game again. Shortly thereafter, he again had to be reminded that he went to a game the night before.

He remembers now. He remembers his family. He remembers his friends, especially the ones he served with as part of the Greatest Generation. He's able to stand erect and he feel no pain. The twinkle in his eye is bigger and brighter than ever before. The laugh that sort of bubbled up from inside him rings across the hills of Heaven. He has reunited with old friends and family and fellow airmen. And it is his hope and prayer that ALL of his family will join him in Heaven one day.

I don't deserve to carry his last name. He is one of my heroes. And he always will be. He lived a full life. More importantly, he loved all of his life.

A new role....

2007-07-30T02:55:00.000-05:00

Sunday morning, I was driving to work down on the Island, having just left the house when my phone rang. Well, work wasn't the first stop -- the first stop was Central Market to pick up some blueberry granola for my boss, friend, and expectant mother Kristen. She likes it, and it's healthy too. Heck, it's good -- even I like it.

My phone rings, and the caller ID indicates that is my good friend, who shall remain nameless. I answer, but it wasn't my good friend but rather his girlfriend. She's charming and quite hilarious and the mom of my special friend who calls me Big Guy, an affectation I have come to love. She asks what I am doing and I tell her. Then she begs me to come change a flat tire for her at Memorial Park. I surmise that she is stranded there, and who am I to decline a damsel in distress?

I head over to Memorial Park, and I see that not only is the damsel present, but the beau's vehicle is present as well. "Great," I think to myself, "now he can change the tire and I can head on down to Galveston." But noooo, they had other plans. They were all dolled up in the church clothes, and the beau states, "I'm too pretty to change the tire and get all dirty." Now I don;t feel so bad about stopping at the Central Market to pick up the granola before I headed to the park. Guilt has left me.

I change the tire, all the while looking at him and chuckling. Okay, it was more than chuckling. And yes, I chose to mock him, a little. After all, that's my style. I even made up a little song for him too. But in spending the day pondering the incident, I decided that I liked the new role. No, it's not the role of doing man things when the significant other man can't or won't. It's the role of being the friend that's called to get something done, even if it involves a little sweat, a little dirt, and a little heat.

The more I thought about it, the more I was honored to receive that call. Yeah, maybe I am like Tessio or Clemenza to their Don Corleone -- I'm the one for the dirty work. But it's all good. The beau and his lady are dear friends, often in spite of me. And it truly is better to give than receive.

The two manliest men I know are my grandfathers. One is slowly dying, with dementia claiming what's left of his memory. He's been in the hospital or nursing home since December -- a hip replacement surgery that went as well as expected for a man that was probably too weak to endure it. But when I think about him, I think of a man who gives of his heart, of his time, of his energy. As a child, he and my grandmother used to take my brother and me off my parents' hands for a week or so and take us around the country on vacations -- the Grand Canyon and Carlsbad Caverns; Disney World; relatives in Kansas. I think of the awe and respect that the Army Air Corps soldiers give to him in their letters, cards, and in person at reunions and visits. Not because of his rank -- he was a sergeant when the war of our Greatest Generation was fought, but because of the kind of man he was -- and still is.

My other grandfather isn't my blood grandfather at all, but the man who married my grandmother when I was nine. None of that mattered to him. He was an exterminator in north Louisiana, and he treated a lot of widow's homes for free or for far less than he should have charged them. He also had a big garden, from which he grew food that he gave away to the older women of his church. I asked him why one day. "It's simple, really. I can do this, and they need this. It's my way of giving to them. They'd never accept a sack of groceries, but they will accept a bushel of beans or corn or turnip greens." He loved it, and I am sure he also loved the attention these women gave him, all 100% innocent of course. At his funeral in 1993, the funeral home was full of people he had given to, never expecting anything in return. Fourteen years later, that still leaves a mark and is a reminder of how far short I fall so often.

The common bond between these two great men is that they were great men of God. Neither one of them will be written up in the society pages or the front pages. And when you think great men, neither of these would ever say they were. But in doing the little stuff that God desires, they became great men of God. And that is better than any accolade the world will ever attribute to someone.

So if you have a flat, or need something done, don't hesitate to call me. The rewards are fantastic. And if you have a beau (or are a man), you might even provide me a good laugh or two or three or more. To my two friends who called this past Sunday -- thanks for letting me have the chance to be more like my grandfathers. And in being more like them, I was more like the Good Shepherd.

Like a fine wine....

2007-07-21T00:21:00.000-05:00

Yep, that's me. I'm getting older. Two weeks I turned the big 44. Hank Aaron. Roy Oswalt. Some wine mellows with age; some turns to vinegar. There are days when I wake up and I feel like I am nothing but piss and vinegar; then there are days when I wake up and I feel like a kid.

Go figure.

Now on to more important things. I have a new favorite musical artist. Teddy Thompson is a Brit and the son of folk-rock legends Richard and Linda Thompson. In his new CD Up Front & Down Low, he tackles traditional country music -- songs like All My Friends Are Gonna Be Strangers and Walkin' The FLoor Over You. These are some old standards that should not be attempted by the faint of heart. But his best cover is of George Jones' classic She Thinks I Still Care. His voice reminds me of Dwight Yoakum, especially the early Dwight on numbers like Miner's Prayer and Bury Me. The lone original song on the CD is Thompson's own Down Low. But it is not out of place here. Not only can the man interpret great songs in new ways, but he does a damn good job with his works too.

So do yourself a favor if you like good country music, like they used to sing -- go get Up Front & Down Low. Thank me later.

Mercy vs. tough love

2007-06-19T01:35:00.001-05:00

I came face to face with this dilemma last week, and it's still here. I am called to be merciful, to show grace, and to do what I can to help someone. But what do you do when that help becomes enabling?

I know I have disappointed others in my life. I KNOW this. And I am grateful for the folks who have given me second chances, especially when they didn't have to. At what point do you stop giving second chances? At what point do you force others to, as a friend once told me, "tote their own purse?"

When you're not involved in such a situation, it's relatively easy. When you've been living it for the last week (and even the last year), it's not nearly as easy.

This I believe ...

2007-06-16T02:51:00.000-05:00

My dear friend, Donnie D, asked for a new post on my blog, and it is humbling that folks come around looking for new insights from me, whatever they might be worth. This is something I have been pondering for a very long time, and I am sure that I will not get it all done in one post. But I will start it now, and probably add to it later on.

My new avocation is listening to podcasts. My favorites tend to from NPR. I know, I know -- I don't seem like a NPR kinda guy. I am down to earth, not snobby (well, not too snobby), and most importantly, I am not a liberal as most NPR types tend to be. One of my favorite podcasts is This I Believe, which is described as "Americans from all walks of life describe their core personal beliefs. One of the most popular NPR series ever."

On February 4, 2006, my life changed again. I was (and still am) facing a huge hurdle and problem of my own making. I had even gone so far as slipping the seatbelt off, and considered while driving up to Waco, drifting over into the oncoming lane just time to kiss the front end of an 18-wheeler. I didn't because God spoke to me -- very clearly. "David. Beloved. This is not for you. It solves nothing and only messes up another innocent man. I DO have a plan for you and you just have to trust me."

I wasn't ready to trust him again yet, but I knew he was right. That would solve nothing, cause a lot of people unnecessary grief, and it was another chicken way of dealing with things, or rather not dealing with things. That afternoon, I told some of my dilemma to two close friends and found support there. My troubles were allayed for a while in their friendship.

That night, at 10:23 p.m., while sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room of yet another dear friend, Dr. Sadler (a more down to earth learned man I have never met), God said "I am giving you another chance, but you have to trust me."

I had always considered myself religious and spiritual. I had a deep knowledge of theology, even earning a graduate degree in theology. I had a well-developed sense of who God was and his working in the world. Unfortunately, in working out that theology, I had neglected the most important part. My intellectual grasp of the Godhead and pride therein had pushed aside the relationship that I had been created to have.

So what is it I believe? Redemption. Resurrection. Not only of Jesus Christ, but also my own personal resurrection. Trusting God (again) resurrected me. It gave me power beyond myself. It gave me peace and happiness I haven't experienced in decades. Most importantly though, it continues to give me those things daily. Each day, my well is full. Each day my heart thrives. Each day, life begins anew.

But this power I have isn't mine or me. It is the Lord's. Therefore, I do not write this pridefully at all, but humbly. I am but nothing without the God who created me. But with the God who created, I am all that I can be and more. I am so powerful that even death has no victory over me. Now all I have to do is remember my place.

This is where it gets easy and hard at the same time. Hard in that pride is such an easy trap to fall into. Easy in that I know -- really know -- a God who loves me and wants to be with me each day.

My friend Steve made note of this living "resurrection theology" in a note to me. I hadn't given it much thought in those terms until then. It's been a tough year, but it has also been the most rewarding year of my life. My God is the God of second chances. And thirds. And fourths. Not because of sense of neediness but because of a sense of love. "Come to me, all of you who are weary, and I will give you rest." "Taste the Living Water and never thirst again."

"If you keep my commands, you'll remain intimately at home in my love." Home. Where I belong. Not out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love. I played the part of the rebellious, strong-headed child many times in my youth (and even adulthood). But obedience out of love comes so easy. It's just a matter of letting go and trusting.

Resurrection theology? I guess so. Restoration, reconciliation, redemption. All of those are part of it -- it is a resurrection that could only come about because of The Resurrection.

This I believe -- that Jesus Christ died for my sins, ALL of them, so that I might be restored. So that I might be redeemed. So that I might be reconciled. So that I will be resurrected.

Of all the things I took out of my seminary education, this sticks with me the most: there are two components to my salvation, my redemption, my reconciliation, my resurrection. There is an already aspect to it. Everything that can be done has been done. And there is a not yet aspect to it. Nothing compares to what is yet to come.

This I believe -- that this is possible not only for me but for everyone. For all who believe and trust and let go. Let go and let God.

This I believe.

Wild stuff

2007-05-23T22:56:00.000-05:00

When lions attack....

Oops, when crocodiles attack....

Oops, when buffaloes attack back.

A Brawl In The Safari - Watch more free videos

Can't wait to see my flag at church. Oh puh-lease! I'd rather see Jesus.

2007-05-20T00:11:00.000-05:00

It's coming. Memorial Day. And already folks have called my church to make sure that we will be flying the US flags prominently at the front entrance of the church Memorial Day weekend. To show how patriotic we are, the church I love will fly American flags at the front entrance beginning May 21 through Memorial Day.

I don't hate America. Not at all. I vote every time I can. I even inform myself before I do. I pay my taxes.I've escorted my Guadalcanal-veteran grandfather and my grandmother to WWII reunions. I've listened as my grandfather and his friends wept for their friends they left behind in the South Pacific. Tears come into my eyes when I hear "God Bless the USA" sung at concerts. I have belted "God Bless America" in my not-so-subtle baritone voice at a loud volume. I know all the words to Merle Haggard's "Fightin' Side of Me."

But it pains me when the church, any church, nationalizes or patriotizes God and permits the USA, as much as I love her, to be honored in a place where God and God alone is to be glorified. If we worshiped God sufficiently, both in time and content, I might consider it. But corporately, we're lucky if we get an hour a week.

In Joshua, we read of the dangers that come when remnants are allowed to remain in a place reserved for God and his people. These remnants caused trouble for centuries thereafter. Paul tells us that in Christ there is no Jew or Greek. But by God there's Amurikken (in my best Floyd R. Turbo voice). All nations bow down to God. May 27 and July 1, we'll permit something to share the place of honor with God.

And as much as I love my country, that's wrong.

My poor metataursal

2007-05-17T22:29:00.000-05:00

Pardon my self-diagnosis, but I believe I have a slight separation of the first right meta taursal.. Hurts like an SOB. Can't walk around much, but I toughed it out working today. My friend/boss Bear Chick did most of the running around today as we were short-handed.

But it reminded me how much we take for granted being able to move around when we want to at the speed we want to. I'm hopeful a good night's sleep will cure me.

The great American novel

2007-04-18T16:44:00.000-05:00

How would you like to publish the great American novel on your first try? That's just what Harper Lee did with To Kill a Mockingbird. The novel became a bestseller almost instantly, in spite of mixed reviews. After Horton Foote won an Oscar fro best screenplay adaptation and the film won various other Oscars, the critic raved about the book. Harper Lee never wrote another book.

Last night, I went to see the Alley Theater's production of To Killa Mockingbird. The direction and staging were fantastic, and the script was fantastic. The child actors who played Scout, Jem and Dill stole the show. Even though I knew the plot, the play still moved me deeply. I am sad now that I took the Cliffs Notes version of the book back in 9th grade when this ws required reading for me.

Thank you Alley Theater for a wonderful night. And may God continue to bless Harper Lee.

The Tomb is Empty!

2007-04-08T09:50:00.000-05:00

We have the advantage of knowing in advance how the Easter story ends. Not so for the first generation Christians. All they knew was that the man in whom they had placed their faith, and even their livelihood, had died. The hour was coming, he told them, when his glory would be revealed. Where's the glory in death? What glory is there in a cross?

And that, my friends, is the beauty of God. In the places we least expect to find glory and beauty and power, it's there, in its omnipotent way. Glory in an execution? You bet! Beauty in death? Hard to believe it's true but it is, and even though it is and we Christians know it is, we cannot comprehend the enormity and the grandeur of it.

This past week, I did without something I truly love -- food (save fruit and some juice). For the first time in a very long time, I was able to ponder the death aspect of Easter -- the enormity of the sacrifice, the utter pain of the humiliating death on a cross -- all of that was for me. Thursday night, as I sat down and just gazed at a cross in my church, I felt incredible heartache and yet, I knew how the story ended. I pondered and prayed for every person near and dear to me. I even pulled a Peter and had a shouting match with one of them shortly thereafter. But as I sat there, I tried, as my pastor implored, to stay in that death for a little while.

In many ways my fast made that much easier. I had to suppress my (enormous) appetite all week, and there were many times it was crying out loudly. All week, when I wanted to eat something so badly, I prayerfully sang or hummed the Easter Hymn.. I don't know why that one came to mind, other than it was God's way of reminding me of the end of the story. Even as I tried, as Pastor Gregg said, to stay in the death for a few days, God in his love for me reminded me of the resurrection -- that death was but a pit stop on the way to Victory Lane!

I thought of Easters past, especially at some churches that follow the high church tradition, where all the organ stops were pulled out and sometimes trumpets blared as well, as the choir processed down the aisle, while we all joined in singing:

Christ, the Lord, is risen today, Alleluia!
Sons of men and angels say, Alleluia!
Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!
Sing, ye heavens, and earth, reply, Alleluia!

Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!
Lo! the Sun’s eclipse is over, Alleluia!
Lo! He sets in blood no more, Alleluia!

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Alleluia!
Christ hath burst the gates of hell, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids His rise, Alleluia!
Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia!

Lives again our glorious King, Alleluia!
Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia!
Once He died our souls to save, Alleluia!
Where thy victory, O grave? Alleluia!

Soar we now where Christ hath led, Alleluia!
Following our exalted Head, Alleluia!
Made like Him, like Him we rise, Alleluia!
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!

Hail, the Lord of earth and Heaven, Alleluia!
Praise to Thee by both be given, Alleluia!
Thee we greet triumphant now, Alleluia!
Hail, the resurrection, thou, Alleluia!

King of glory, Soul of bliss, Alleluia!
Everlasting life is this, Alleluia!
Thee to know, Thy power to prove, Alleluia!
Thus to sing and thus to love, Alleluia!

Hymns of praise then let us sing, Alleluia!
Unto Christ, our heavenly King, Alleluia!
Who endured the cross and grave, Alleluia!
Sinners to redeem and save. Alleluia!

But the pains that He endured, Alleluia!
Our salvation have procured, Alleluia!
Now above the sky He’s King, Alleluia!
Where the angels ever sing. Alleluia!

Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia!
Who did once upon the cross, Alleluia!
Suffer to redeem our loss. Alleluia!

Another procession that came to mind just now was one from days in the Episcopal church -- "Hail thee, festival day! Blessed day to be hallowed forever; Day when Christ arose, Breaking the kingdom of death."

So as we spend today and hopefully the rest of our lives in Victory Lane, let's not forget a lesson from NASCAR (yes, I said NASCAR), races are won in the pit stops. In the pit stop that was Golgotha, Christ won our Victory.

Let's never forget that.

ALLELUIA!

A Foodie Fasts -- Day Four

2007-04-05T23:22:00.000-05:00

Day 4 was okay, but harder than 3 becuase I was in a kitchen all day. ALl I had to eat today was a few grapes, one orange, some water, a tiny thimble of Baptist Communion juice, and a piece of unleaven bread during Communion.

Yes, I call it Communion even though the Baptists call it the Lord's Supper. Communion sounds so much better to me though. Co = the unity of the body; union = joining with Christ in partaking his broken body and his shed blood. I submit there would be a whole lot fewer church spats if we took Communion more often.

Bring on Day 5....

A Foodie Fasts -- Day Three

2007-04-04T20:14:00.000-05:00

Easiest day thus far.

All I had was some cranberry juice (had to dilute it with water -- don't know how anyone caqn drink this stuff straight up), a handful of grapes, and some water. I'll probably go to Jamba Juice (for the protein) as soon as Alton Brown is over. His episode tonight is on espresso -- not a favorite and therefore, it is not a temptation for me.

I also weighed in today. Five pounds lost since this started.

A Foodie Fasts -- Day Two

2007-04-03T21:41:00.000-05:00

Tuesday 9:42 p.m.

Today was easier than yesterday though that was probably because I wasn't working in a kitchen. Watching the Food Network was tough, and the trip to Central Market for juice and fruit wasn't easy, but I skipped the bread section. Muscat grapes are available at Central Market these days. I feel about them the same way Kramer felt about the Mackinac peaches -- yum.

I also weighed in today. It's a number that I won't publish here (damn that pride!) but one of the side benefits from this endeavor will be some needed weight loss.

Today's menu:

Grapes
Water
Grape juice
blueberry/cranberry juice mix

New sign that the Apocalypse is upon us....

2007-04-03T15:43:00.000-05:00

Keith Richards snorted his dad's ashes.

Pretty odd until you remember it is Keith Richards. Last time he was in the news it was because he fractured his skull while falling out of a coconut tree somewhere in the South Pacific.

Opening Day

2007-04-03T00:06:00.000-05:00

Monday was Opening Day, the day when all is right with the world again (at least until Lidge blows another save). The world is full of hope, even on the northside of Chicago.

There was a time in my life when I didn't work on Opening Day. Not because I was going to the game, but because it was Opening Day. This is my New Years Day! Nothing better than sitting around watching baseball on ESPN all day.

Wes Westrum, a light hitting catcher for the New York Giants a half-century ago said it this way: "Baseball is a lot like church. Many attend, few understand."

An old-time baseball writer once wrote: "90 feet between the bases is as close as man has ever come to perfection."

Finally, A. Bartlett Giamatti, former Commissioner of Baseball and former professor at Yale wrote: "It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops…and summer is gone."

A Foodie fasts -- Day One

2007-04-02T23:54:00.000-05:00

Monday night, 11:54 p.m.

It was a day. No hunger to speak of, but I missed the psychological joy that comes from eating. Walking by the cooler, I was quite tempted to snag a pickle slice for that tartness. I craved a big breakfast this morning, and I'm not a breakfast eater.

I stopped off to buy 2 apples and 2 oranges this morning. The lady at the register said, "I know you;reb uying all that healthy fruit, but I'm supposed to ask you if you want to buy some candy, 3 for a dollar." She gestured to the box full of Snickers and Hershey and M&Ms.

"Ma'am, on any other day I'd take you up on your offer, but this week, I'm fasting, eating only fruit, drinking water and fruit juice. Believe me, I'd be all over that if I could. Still gonna be on sale after Easter?" I was smiling, but she looked panic-stricken.

"Oh baby!" I love it when older black women call me baby -- I don't know why, but I do. "Baby, I hate that I tempted you like that. Lord forgive me!" There was a level of sincerity in her immediate prayer that I knew she was serious. I patted her hand and told her not to worry about it. "Bless you, and I hope you make it." She was rooting me on.

She blessed me, and I think I blessed her. But it was solely a God thing.

Today's consumption: water, one orange, one apple, one Peach Passion Jamba Juice (it's 100% fruit -- no worries, no sugar added).

A Foodie Fasts -- Prologue

2007-04-01T23:10:00.000-05:00

I haven't discussed this much, mainly because I didn't want to seem overly pious or self-righteous. That was not the goal nor the intention. Several weeks ago, after some prayer and much prompting from God I decided to do a Holy Week fast.

Houstom we have a problem. I'm a Foodie. Not just a foodie, but a Foodie with a capital F. I love to eat. I love to cook. I work in a kitchen several days a week. How am I going to do this?

One of the lessons I have been taught so well over the last year is to relax and let God. How am I going to do it? I'm not, but God through me is.

So here I sit, 47 minutes away from six days with no food other than 4 pieces of fruit a day, no Coca-Cola, just water and 100% fruit juice (no sugar added). But like with most things, I decided to research this and prepare a little. First thing I read was not to fast for more than two days without seeing a doctor. So I talked to one, over the phone. She said I would be fine with the fruit and juice but to pay attention to my body. "Hey lady," I said in my best Jerry Lewis (they love him in France) voice, "if I paid attention to my body, it wouldn't look like this!"

Apparently, there can be some "complications" with the liver if it is prepared. So I prepared and ate some healthy foods for the liver. Plus I will eat at least one piece of citrus a day (that's also good for the liver).

An interesting thing I discovered in my brief research is the link between the spiritual side of fasting and the nutritional side. Every religion in the world recognizes the value of fasting; it becomes a spiritual detox, ridding our souls of the crap that has built up over the years. It is no coincidence that Jesus fasted in the Wilderness for 40 days prior to starting his ministry -- it teaches coplete reliance on God's providence. Nutritionists now see the physical value in periodic fasting to rid the body of the crap that can overwhelm our system, especially with today's processed and additive-laden foods. Rest the body, cleanse the liver and revive yourself.

I am hopeful that tomorrow I can weigh in somewhere (but this isn't about weight loss) as I eat a piece of fruit for breakfast. I joked with my Bible study class tonight (The Real Deal at Houston's First Baptist Church) that my four fruits a day may be watermelons. I'm not really kidding all that much.

This is going to be an interesting week. I cooked country style steak last night with savory cheese grits and a salad. Today, I had leftovers and a hamburger, then a late supper after church at Pei Wei. I'm not a huge fan like some folks, so what a disapointing last meal it was. Now, with 33 minutes before the fast starts as I sip my last Coca-Cola before the Great Alleluia (that's high church for Easter), I'm excited.

I'll pass along the highs and the lows. I'll share the temptations. I gave up ice cream for Lent. That's gone very well with only two minor slips. One was at a going away party that turned out to be premature -- I just totally forgot and had a bowl of Blue Bell. The second was one piece of Dibs - a tiny one, and I forgot that time too until the ice cream started meltin in my mouth. I didn't have another Dib. I've not stopped at Paciugo once. But Easter Sunday, I may stick my face into the Zuppa Inglese and blow.

See you tomorrow.

Redneck Land & Sea Vacation

2007-03-29T02:11:00.000-05:00

Who's with me? Seriously.

There are six ways to cross the Houston Ship Channel, and I aspire to do all of them in one day. The six ways are (from west to east)

1. The 610 Ship Channel Bridge
2. The Washburn Tunnel
3. The Beltway 8/Jesse Jones Bridge (toll)
4. The Lynchburg Ferry
5. The Fred Hartman Bridge and
6. The Bolivar Ferry.

I have actually crossed all of them over the course of my lifetime, but I have never done more than two in the same day.

What's there to see on this trip? Well, first and foremost, there's the Jewel of Upper Galveston Bay, Baytown! Then there's the Lynchburg Ferry, which has been around since the first half of the 19th century. Nearby, you have the San Jacinto Monument and Battleground plus the Battleship Texas (mentioned in a Gregg Matte sermon recently). There's also the Houston area's prettiest bridge -- the Fred Hartman, which replaced the Baytown Tunnel, which was destroyed (I also went through that back in the day).

Here's the rules:

I probably cannot go on a weekend. At least not until October. But I'm willing to wait.
No Interstate highways, at least to the extent possible.
No stopping at chains. Any food purchased will have to be local road food. And I know some great places.

Who's with me?

Whatever happened to Sammy Kershaw?

2007-02-15T21:56:00.000-06:00

He had a big string of hits, and Politics, Religion and Her is one of my favorite country songs of all time.

Hey ole buddy, how you been
Not much has changed here on my end
No I don't think she's comin' back
We better not get into that

Let's talk about baseball
Talk a little small talk
There's gotta be a good joke
That you've heard
Let's talk about NASCARs
Old Hollywood movie stars
Let's talk about anything
Anything in this world
But politics, religion and her

Politics can start a fight
Religion's hard to know who's right
And one more topic I won't touch
That one's her -- it hurts too much

Let's talk about baseball
Talk a little small talk
There's gotta be a good joke
That you've heard
Let's talk about NASCARs
Old Hollywood movie stars
Let's talk about anything
Anything in this world
But politics, religion and her

Let's talk about NASCARs
Old Hollywood movie stars
Let's talk about anything
Anything in this world
But politics, religion and her
But politics, religion and her

Six Weird Things About Me

2007-02-10T01:06:00.000-06:00

I normally don't play games like this, but tis time, I will make an exception. The object of this game is to write 6 weird things about yourself, then tag 6 people to make them do the same thing. So, if I tag you, blame the one who tagged me: Murray

Sweet tea. I love it, but I cannot drink it if it not sweetened when it is brewed. And get that instant tea outta here also. So if you can offer me tea that was sweetened when brewed, I'll drink it. If I have to sweeten it myself post-brew, I'll drink it with only a bit of lemon and no sweetener. And I am a frm believer that sugar is the only thing that should ever sweeten tea.
Tea through a straw. In an item semi-related to Item 1, I cannot drink iced tea through a straw. Ever. This poses a real problem when the tea is to go. I cannot drink it through a straw. Nor will I.
The Sound of Music. I've never seen it. Nor do I want to. I hope to go through this entire life without seeing it. I have never even seen more than 5 minutes of it. All I know is it is Julie Andrews and a bunch of kids in Austria or Switzerland. That's enough for me. I have also never seen Gone with the Wind or the Wizard of Oz, but I have seen more of those than I have The Sound of Music. But I did read the book The Wizard of Oz, along with the others in that series. I bet you didn't know that the books were political satire, did you?
I am opposed to socks. I don't like them after Easter or before Halloween.
I do not like refried beans. I'll eat them. They even taste good. But I do not like to order food that looks like it has been pre-digested. So at Mexican or Tex-Mex restaurants, I'll order charro beans or double rice. I don't eat guacamole for the same reason.
I have a denominational hierarchy plan. New Christians should be Baptist or Pentecostal. Consider it the elementary school of religious life. Then one graduates to Methodism or Presbyterianism. Finally one becomes a high church Episcopalian. I love the symbolism and ritual of the Anglican church, but unfortunately, most Anglicans simply go through the motions. By requiring a pre-Anglican denominational service, this would assure than those who do participate in the high church tradition understand what they are doing, and it also ensures that folks experience worship that is more than just an evangelistic service.

I'll add the six tagees later.

Six weeks can be an eternity

2007-02-01T14:38:00.000-06:00

Actually I think it's been seven weeks since I posted. Which was exactly how long it was between haircuts for me. it's true. My last haircut was December 12 (the day before my NYC trip) until the one I had yesterday, January 31. Last blog entry was December 13; now there is today's February 1 entry.

Waiting so long between haircuts is not a good thing for me. I felt like an 80's Donny Osmond with 10 pounds of hair. Plus every time I lay down on the couch for a little nap -- which is becoming a frequent occurrence -- the only thing that can salvage such a bad outbreak of "couch head" is a shower. It's not like I am adverse to being clean, but 2-3 showers a day when you never break a sweat? It's just easier with less hair. But I do admit it is better than the alternative of no hair.

So much has changed in these seven weeks. Christmas came and went -- a good Christmas. Looking back, we will probably remember this one as one of the best ever, though it didn't seem like it at the time. Then I grow deeper roots here in Houston -- a good thing brought about by my move inside the loop.

And finally, surprise of all surprises, I may be returning to Waco to manage a restaurant that was neare and dear to my heart (and belly) when I was a student. This has caused me quite a few struggles internally. I've finally nurtured a wonderful group of friends -- a safety net, of sorts -- that I may have to leave. And thinking of life without them just around the corner or down the street or across the way comes across as a lonely forboding place that I am not sure I want to visit. Yet I also dream of the possibilities and they excite me. In a world where distances have been shortened tremendously by technological innovation, 200 miles isn't all that far. Yet....

Spring is trying to show up here in everything but the weather. Tomorrow, some fat rodent is going to let us know something that doesn't mean anything except grant a few folks a reason to bend an elbow at a bar. And that's a good thing. A friend says we should make all the excuses for relationships we can. And if a fat rodent is your excuse, more power to you.

I have a new friend. I call him Little Guy. He calls me Big Guy. He makes everything better. There's a late night radio talk show host that starts every call by saying, "Tell me something good in your life." I like that. I'm gonna start doing that, daily. Not telling you, although I will. But asking. If I am running a place in Waco (name will be disclosed when appropriate), I'm gonna ask the customers. This old world's a pretty good place. Sometimes we just need to remind ourselves of it.

Tell me something good in your life!

O Holy Night

2006-12-11T02:55:00.000-06:00

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining.

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!

O night divine, the night when Christ was born; O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!

O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,

With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.

O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,

Now come the wisemen from out of the Orient land.

The King of kings lay thus lowly manger; In all our trials born to be our friends.

He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,

Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us to love one another,

His law is love and His gospel is peace.

Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.

And in his name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

With all our hearts we praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,

His power and glory ever more proclaim!

This is it for me. My Christmas anthem. My hymn. This sums up Christmas for me. One of my Christmas traditions is to attend the Louisiana State High School football championships in New Orleans every year with my cousin (except for this year when he had a baby). During the weekend, at some poinmt, we will hear this song sung by Pavarotti, Domingo or the other guy, and we burst into song.

Though I missed New Orleans this year, tonight at church, we sang a beautiful arrangement of this hymn. And the pastor said he loved singing Christmas songs because when we do, we just let it rip. I know I did -- so much so that I couldn't hear the guy next to me. And I don't care.

After all, it's Christmas!

I thought I would provide alittle background on this, my favorite Christmas hymn. The words and lyrics of the old carol 'O Holy Night' were written by Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure in 1847. Cappeau was a wine seller by trade but was asked by the parish priest to write a poem for Christmas. He obliged and wrote the beautiful words of the hymn. He then realized that it should have music to accompany the words and he approached his friend Adolphe Charles Adams. He agreed and the music for the poem was therefore composed by Adolphe Charles Adams, who had attended the Paris conservatoire and forged a brilliant career as a composer. It was translated into English by John Sullivan Dwight.

$5 -- Five Dollars

2006-12-04T00:22:00.000-06:00

There is a game we like to play called Five Dollars. We only call it Five Dollars because it is shorter than saying "let's see what we can get David to do to make a fool of himself." But I really don't mind. It's a chance to laugh at myself and have fun and spread joy. It's chance for me to break out of shell that I have gotten really comfortable inside. It's a chance to show the world that Christians can be funny and goofy and "normal."

At Pei Wei, the Five Dollar challenge was to put chopsticks in my nose and walk around the restuarant. I did the chopstick part, but didn't walk around the restaurant. But I did clap my arms together like I was a walrus. I think I ended up with $3 for that. "Take the chopsticks and beat on the woks and pans hanging up." I would have made Buddy Rich proud with my drumming.

This past Friday, the Five Dollar challenge was to stand in the middle of the room at a crowded party and begin singing O Holy Night in a loud voice. Well, how could I refuse? After all, it is my favorite Christmas hymn. With that five dollars and another five dollars from this afternoon, my dinner tonight was paid for (or at least it was supposed to be paid for).

I like Five Dollars. I don't feel like the new kid at middle school who is willing to do anything to gain acceptance from "the cool kids" -- and if you knew who the alleged "cool kids" were in this metaphor you would know why it breaks down. I don't feel like the kid who is being mainstream educated for the first time and is no longer riding the short bus.

I know God has a sense of humor. I know he loves to laugh. And I know he laughs at me, even when I really don't want him to do so. God's sense of humor is so rich that I know my place in Heaven is going to be in the seat right next to Jane Fonda. I'll ask, "why God?"

He'll laugh and answer, "Why not! Good times!"

So make someone laugh this week. Stretch yourself.

But don't tell anyone my little secret -- sometimes, I would do it without getting paid the five dollars.

My Christmas List

2006-11-25T16:04:00.000-06:00

Brides do it for weddings, so I thought I would do it here. I will list some things that I desire for Christmas. And before any of you girls gripe about it, if you have or plan on having a bridal register, you'll be doing the same thing.

Item #1 -- Red Rider Leg Lamp. It's a MAJOR AWARD! Available at www.redriderleglamps.com.

Dotting the I

2006-11-18T14:33:00.000-06:00

Just watched the opening of ABC's coverage of the Michigan-Ohio State game, and I have to tell you that the script Ohio is just one of the reasons why college football is better than the NFL every day and twice on Saturdays.

And a senior sousaphone player was selected to dot the I. There is no greater honor at The Ohio State University, and he was describing his nervousness. It was truly a sight to behold when he strutted his stuff and dotted the I.

Now, back to the game......

New Feature: Signs That The End Times Are Upon Us

2006-11-17T10:08:00.000-06:00

I am creating a new feature for a blog that had grown old and tired, and frankly, not very fresh. I call it "Signs That The End Times Are Upon Us." It will consist of things I come across in my everyday life that indicate to me that the end is near.

Item 1 -- Vegetarian chili. What is it? Thick pepper soup?

Welcome Back.....

2006-11-15T16:10:00.000-06:00

I've been away from the blog for a few months. I guess that makes it a Blahhhg, but I am old and stubborn and don't care. So there.

A few things I have noticed (or reaffirmed) since I have been gone.

No matter how bad the football season is, sharing the season, even though it is a disappointment, with good friends makes it all worthwhile.

College football is better than the NFL anyday. Especially Saturday.

I have two friends who work 7 days a week for 7 months of the year. Sound bad? The rest of the time, they are off. Still sound bad? They do all this on a beach. Gimme that lifestyle.

Barbecue, Bar-B-Q, BBQ, barbeque -- no matter how you spell it, it's Good Eats.

Nothing is more exciting than new friendships. Nothing is sadder than the passing of old ones.

God's good.

The brain is similar to a muscle in that if it is not exercised, it atrophies. I love logic games (as does a new friend).

Cooking is sexy! I love to cook! Therefore I am sexy. See -- I told you I love logic games.

If you let your past control you, you will never be anything other than what you were.

Sushi is still bait to me. I am a Southern boy; gimme my sushi battered and deep-fried.

Jimmy Buffett was right -- if we couldn't laugh, we'd all go insane.

It's a bird; it's a plane.....

2006-11-15T15:50:00.000-06:00

It's an idiot.

Tuesday night, about 10:15, while driving outbound on the Southwest Freeway in Houston, I was passing under the suspension bridges with the steel arch framework just southwest of downtown. I love that area of the freeway. I think someone named it the Downtown Gateway or something like that. It doesn't matter.

As I was driving along, I just happened to look up at the Hazard Street bridge, and there appeared to be a person on the top of the arch. So I exited Shepherd and turned back to Hazard. Sure enough, there was an idiot on top of the iron archway.

So I called 911. The lady asked if I needed if my emergency was fire, police or ambulance. I said police. As I explained what was going on, she referred me to HFD. So I wait a few minutes. I call my friend back, who asks if I am prepared to see someone jump from up there. "I guess so," I said. Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. I certainly didn't want to see that, but I knew I could handle that trauma if that is what occurred.

So I waited. Not for the fall/jump, but for the authorities. In the meantime, I notice another guy who has walked onto the bridge on the sidewalk underneath the idiot. He lingers there for a minute, then the idiot slides down the cables running up to the arch, walks with his compadre and gets in a car parked onthe corner and drives off.

Three minutes later, the ambulance and poklice arrive. I tell them the guy is gone and give the license plate of the car. The ending was anticlimactic, but it was exciting all at the same time.

So when you are looking out for the idiots, don't forget to look up.

Seinfeld moment

2006-08-27T23:31:00.001-05:00

Everything ties back into Seinfeld. Tonight's dinner was no exception. One of my dear friends had never eaten a rib before. So tonight, at Goode Co. BBQ, she tried it.

With a knife and fork.

Bless her heart!

Sometimes, the little guy wins one

2006-08-17T21:50:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I was at Wal-Mart's Lube Express to get my oil changed as well as to pick up a few other items. Because I am down in Galveston several days a week, there is a lot of sand in the car. I bought the oil change package that includes vacuuming.

I got out to my car 90 minutes later (they said it would only be 45) and nothing has been vacuumed. I go back inside and the technician said it wasn't vacuumed because of debris on the floor of the car. Isn't that why I wanted it vacuumed? Seriously, all there was a couple of CDs and a small phone book on the front passenger floorboard. Because of this, no one vacuumed anywhere. I suspect the real reason was that it was closing time for the Lube Express and he wanted to get out of there.

I decided I wasn't going to take it, so I went to see Customer Service up front. I explained I wanted a partial refund because I didn't get everything promised. She said that would be a problem, but she deferred to a manager. After a few more moments of waiting, the manager comes up and after I explain what happened, he explained that Wal-Mart's policy was not to vacuum if there was stuff on the floor.

I explained that it was my policy not to pay for something if the service wasn't performed, and even if there was stuff on the passenger floorboard, they stillshould have vacuumed on the driver's side.

He agreed with me and instead of refunding the difference between the Value and Economy packages (about $3), he refunded the price of one of the kitchen items I bought -- $8.62.

Again, not a big victory, but that is one win against the guys that have the satanic self-checkout lane that gave me so much trouble a couple of weeks ago.

I miss cashiers at the grocery store

2006-07-31T22:46:00.000-05:00

One of these days, I will snap. I am fairly patient, and I tolerate many things, even things I oppose. But when I finally lose it, I can tell you where I will be. I will be standing in line at Wal-Mart, Kroger, HEB or some other such establishment. But not just any line -- it will be the self-service line.

I am sure some business school professor somewhere spent some government grant money and determined that it was more efficient to get rid of the cashiers and replace them with these God-forsaken machines.

The problem with these machines, which are obviously made somewhere on the south side of Hell, is that they do not work. In theory, the shopper scans the merchandise and bags it, all of which is verified by some sort of the scale that measures the weight of the item as it is bagged. Today, I was told no less than three times (my receipt says I only purchased 22 items) to bag my item. And on another occasion, the machine tells me that an unexpected object had entered the bagging area. I can tell you what the unexpected item was -- a computercidal man about ready to inflict his own Texas Justice on the further depersonalization of commerce. Yes, I was checking out for more than 10 minutes for a mere 22 items at some automated machine, Model No. 666.

Four times out of 22, there was some sort of error. I don't need some sort of self-service computer to tell me that more than 18% of the time, there was some sort of error. Was I moving too fast? Maybe so, but how slow do I need to go. It's not a complex operation -- scan, bag, scan, bag, scan, bag, then pay. If the machine cannot keep up, then it is time to put that machine out to pasture and order up a new one from the factory on the south side of Hell.

The CSR (customer service rep, for all those who wondered, like I did) refused to answer my question on why they had these machines and why they kept adding more of them. I asked her if they were more efficient. No reply.

When I was packing my wares away in the pantry, I calculated the heft of my 28 ounce can of crushed tomatoes. I sure hope one of those cans doesn't slip out of my hand next time I decide to go to that line instead of one attended by a real person, working a real job, trying to make real money so he or she can buy other goods. But if it does, I am sure Wal-Mart or Kroger or HEB will replace it.

On a related matter, was there something really wrong with cashiers? Even if it is more cost-effective to have these self-service stations, is it right to replace people with machines? One of the reasons I like Target is that it doesn't have these mechanical incarnations of Satan.

Sometimes, we just get it wrong and never get how wrong we are.

2006-06-30T00:38:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again when we celebrate our nation's birthday. I am as patriotic as anyone, but there are some places where we get too carried away with it.

Thursday night, I was at church for a mid-week Bible study and my debut as a model (more on this later). The backdrop for platform and choir was a HUGE American flag. It was so big that it didn't fit. Surrounding this flag, on the flanks of the choir loft. were 28 other American flags (14 per side, and yes, I counted them).

This where many of my friends will disown me. I can't stand this in church -- HATE IT! To me, God rises above country. The sanctuary at church has not one cross, but this week, it will have 28 normal size flags in flagstands and one HUGE flag serving as the backdrop. Maybe I should overlook this for one week out of the year, but it seems we get more wrapped up in being patriotic than we do in being Christians.

For example, this Sunday, many of the older folks (the only ones left who still wear ties to my church) will wear red, white and blue ties. I've never seen any crucifix ties the rest of the year; if I did, I could overlook this. Two years ago, one of the deacons who sat across the aisle from me replaced his cross lapel pin with an American flag lapel pin (and a gawdy one at that) for the service on the 4th (it was a Sunday that year). I asked him why he replaced his cross lapel pin with a flag, and that I thought nothing should ever replace the cross. He looked at me as if I were some sort of Marxist/Communist.

Of course, I'm not; I've been a long-time Republican, although the Religious Right troubles me. But even if I were a Marxist/Communist, I doubt I would be welcomed in my church, even if I were a Christian. That sort of homogeniety bugs me. It's not like heaven is going to be full of a bunch of white GOP types.

Anyway, it just bugs me that we don't worship God enough, and sometimes when we do, we make it a worship of the USA and a specific set of political beliefs. And it bugs me even more that this bugs me this much. And to make it all the more ironic, I will be on Galveston Island this Sunday helping my friends Brian and Kristen at their store.

God bless America. And Iraq, Iran, China and Madagascar as well.

Scattershooting and random thoughts while wondering whatever happened to Mark Lemongello......

2006-05-23T21:51:00.000-05:00

In my opinion, even though Bonds has never tested positive for steroids (not that baseball has tested for them that long), he used them. Additionally, I suspect he's also using HGH -- human growth hormone. So I don't blame Russ Spring for throwing at him last week. I suspect that a few other pitchers will also before this season, probably Bonds' last, ends.

* * * * *

My oven got a workout tonight. First, I baked some cornbread to go with dinner (chicken-fried steak and sweet corn on the cob). For dessert, I made Nutty Orange Coffee Cake from Paula Deen. It's a quick and easy recipe that is very delicious. I think Paula Deen is the 21st century incarnation of Aunt Bea. But if I keep eating like this, it's not my oven that will need the workout.

* * * * *

Two groups from my church are heading to Guatemala and Cuba respectively this Saturday. I wish I were going. Instead, I am headed to Wimberley to be in the wedding of my good friend Brian and his fiancee Kristen.

* * * * *

Does anyone else out there watch Deadliest Catch on Discovery? I am hooked. I am also hooked on Giada de Laurentiis, but I would rather eat Paula's cooking.

Answers.....

2006-05-08T03:25:00.000-05:00

First, the only absolute monarchy in Europe is Vatican City. Who knows, if you are ever on Jeopardy, this might win you some money. There are a few others around the world (most notably Saudi Arabia), but this is the last one in Europe, and I don't think it will change for a while.

The one I thought was an absolute monarchy but wasn't was Monaco. Did you know that Prince Ranier got cable access for all of Monaco back in the 70s? Can you see it now -- "Move to Monaco! No income tax and FREE CABLE!"

And finally, isn't it great when God answers prayers before we actually can voice them? It had been something I had been praying about for a while, and Sunday night at church (www.houstonsfirst.org), I shared that concern and my hopes with my pastor. During the service, a friend called with an opportunity that was just what I had been praying about (I am so glad I had the ringer turned off though).

My biggest struggles come when I don't listen to God. Tonight and this weekend, I was so glad I did.

Mea culpa

2006-05-06T15:17:00.000-05:00

In my previous post, I stated that there were two absolute monarchies in all of Europe. I was wrong, there is only 1, although another comes very close. The one that comes close is not the other one I was thinking of.

Monaco used to be an absolute moanrchy, but since 1962, the sovereign prince has been restricted by a National Council (Parliament). The prince (currently Albert II) still takes a very active role in leading the government and is one of the most powerful monarchs in the world, but he is not absolute.

So can anyone give me the one absolute monarchy in Europe? And which one is so close it lamost qualifies?

If I were king....

2006-04-29T21:56:00.000-05:00

If I were an absolute monarch (Europe has two; can you name them?), my first order of business would concern cell phones. No, it would not be something safety-oriented like banning them while operating a vehicle unless use was in conjunction with a hands-free device.

No, my ban would resolve one of my pet peeves and eliminate at least one form of idiot behavior. My proposal would call for the instant "elimination" of cell-phone users who get on their phones behind home plate at a baseball game and proceed to simultaneously talk and wave. If you do this, please stop. If you want to do this, please reconsider.

Remember some people may think you are an idiot, but if you sit behind the plate at a baseball game and wave to the camera while talking on your cell phone, you will have successfully convinced anyone watching that you really are an idiot.

Immigration reform, part 1

2006-04-20T13:39:00.000-05:00

The Simpson-Rodino Act of 1986 proposed to punish the employers heavily. That was part of the quid pro quo for the last "amnesty" we gave as part of that piece of immigration reform. The only problem was the government (the old INS) didn't enforce it.

The illegal immigrant problem we have now is a much the government's fault as anyone's, especially since they refuse to tighten the border because of pressure from the border state politicians. Again I say -- no immigration reform bill will mean anything unless and until the border is tightened and made more secure.

Additionally, regarding low wages: illegal immigration imports poverty. If legal folks won't do the job the illegals will at minimum wage, guess what? Time to raise the wage! The folks the illegal immigrants are hurting most are the very folks the libs are trying to protect -- those at the bottom of the socio-economic foodchain. They are left unemployed or under-employed. Will some prices go up? Probably so, but with more people contributing to the regular economy, it grows. A rising tide lifts ALL boats.

What a wonderful day!

2006-04-11T01:17:00.000-05:00

I must give thanks to my friend, Steven W. Murray (http://stevenwmurray.blogspot.com), Director of Communications at Houston's First Baptist Church for rescuing me Monday. It's been a rough few weeks (although I am hanging in very well) and I needed to get out and pound the pavement for a new job (oh how I hate it) when I found my Treo and saw Murray's messages about Monday afternoon's Astros game.

There is nothing better than skipping work, school or something to go watch baseball. For three hours, I was a kid again, with not a care in the world other than the outcome of that baseball game. I didn't arrive until the top of the 5th inning, but the game went 12 innings, so I got 8 innings' worth. The 'Stros fell behind in the top of the 10th, but tied it in the bottom of the 10th when Morgan Ensberg hit a homer. Then in the 12th inning, the ageless Craig Biggio scored on an Eric Bruntlett sacrfice fly for a 5-4 Astros win.

Tuesday, I will be back at it, looking for work and sending out query letters for some free-lance assignments. But for one glorious springtime afternoon in Houston, all of those troubles were cast aside. Thanks friend.

The 7 Never-to-be-Forgotten Principles of Government

2006-04-05T14:02:00.000-05:00

I find myself becoming more and more libertarian. Why? Because of the Republicans and the Democrats. I didn't say I find myself becoming more and more Libertarian, as in the party, but in the ideals and principles.

I am unashamed to say I am a Reagan conservative. I believe in a limited government. While I think Roe v. Wade is bad law, the most dangerous precedent the Supreme Court ever established was in Wickard v. Filburn, which declares that just about everything is within the purview of the federal government because it might have an effect on interstate commerce, even if there is no direct effect or link to interstate commerce (I have also seen this case captions as Wickard v. Fillmore). Our Founding Fathers established a limited federal government. It's time we remembered that.

Every so often I run across something that needs to be read by as many folks as possible. Today, I found something published on July 1, 2003 by Harry Browne, the 2000 Libertarian Party presidential nominee. Browne died March 1, 2006.

The 7 Never-to-be-Forgotten Principles of Government
by Harry Browne
July 1, 2003

It's easy to think sometimes that a new government program, law, or regulation could cure a pressing social problem.

Whether it's a desire to end abortions, keep the wrong people out of the country, make your city drug-free, stop corporate frauds, crack down on criminals, or make health care more accessible and less expensive, you can imagine how the right new law could make everything okay.
But when you get that kind of thought, I hope you'll remember the seven principles that apply to all government programs — not just the ones you oppose.

The Principles

1. Government is force. Every government program, law, or regulation is a demand that someone do what he doesn't want to do, refrain from doing what he does want to do, or pay for something he doesn't want to pay for. And those demands are backed up by police with guns.
You expect that force to be used only against the guilty. But we can see how the Drug War, the foreign wars, asset forfeiture, the Patriot Act, and other government activities have used force just as often against the innocent — people who have not intruded on anyone else's person or property.
In fact, government force is used more often against the innocent than the guilty, because the guilty make it their business to understand the laws that apply to them and stay clear of them. Meanwhile, the innocent, thinking they've nothing to fear, suddenly find that they've innocently violated laws they never heard of.

2. Government is politics. Whenever you turn over to the government a financial, social, medical, military, or commercial matter, it's automatically transformed into a political issue — to be decided by those with the most political influence. And that will never be you or I.
Politicians don't weigh their votes on the basis of ideology or social good. They think in terms of political power.

3. You don't control government. It's easy to think of the perfect law that will stop the bad guys while leaving the good guys unhindered. But no law will be written the way you have in mind, it won't be administered the way you have in mind, and it won't be adjudicated the way you have in mind.

Your ideal law will be written by politicians for political purposes, administered by bureaucrats for political purposes, and adjudicated by judges appointed for political purposes. So don't be surprised if the new law turns out to do exactly the opposite of what you thought you were supporting.

4. Every government program will be more expensive and more expansive than anything you had in mind when you proposed it. It will be applied in all sorts of ways you never dreamed of.

When Medicare was initially passed in 1965, the politicians projected its cost in 1992 to be $3 billion — which is equivalent to $12 billion when adjusted for inflation to 1992 dollars. The actual cost in 1992 was $110 billion — nine times as much.

And when Medicare was enacted, Section 1801 of the original law specifically prohibited any bureaucratic interference with the practice of medicine. Today not one word of that protection still applies. The federal government owns the health-care industry lock, stock, and barrel.
The new program you support will eventually include all sorts of powers and privileges you can't even imagine right now.

5. Power will always be misused. Give good people the power to do good and that power eventually will be in the hands of bad people to do bad.

As Michael Cloud has pointed out, "The problem isn't the abuse of power; it's the power to abuse." Give politicians power and it certainly will be abused eventually — if not by today's politicians, then by their successors.

As P.J. O'Rourke said, "Giving money and power to politicians is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys."

6. Government doesn't work. Because government is force, because government programs are designed to enrich the politically powerful, because you can't control government and make it do what's right, because every new government program soon wanders from its original purpose, and because politicians eventually misuse the power you give them, it is inevitable that no government program will deliver on the promises the politicians make for it.

For years, I've asked listeners during radio interviews to name a government program that has actually delivered on its promises, and no one has been able to do so.

If you think there's a successful government program, you probably don't know how much it actually costs, aren't aware of all its destructive side-effects, have no idea how easily and inexpensively such a thing could be done outside of government, and/or are basing your view of its success on political propaganda.

It doesn't matter whether a program is supposed to do something you want or something you don't want, whether the program is something you consider a proper function of government or something beyond its limits. It won't work. Government programs always wind up disappointing you.

7. Government must be subject to absolute limits. Because politicians have every incentive to expand government, and with it their power, there must be absolute limits on government.

The Constitution provides the obvious limits we must reimpose upon the federal government. Until the Constitution is enforced, we have no hope of containing the federal government.
The present system of unlimited power is like giving a drunken stranger a set of signed, blank checks on your bank account. You are reduced to relying on the honesty and integrity of people you don't even know — and they abuse that trust again and again.

Whether you think government should be bigger or smaller than the limits specified in the Constitution, the first step is to restore absolute limits, and then — if you like — work to change those limits to ones that would be more to your liking.

Questions

So the next time you're tempted to think that some government program is just what this country needs, ask yourself these questions:

Do I really want to use force to make this happen? Do I have any idea how many families may be destroyed by giving the government another tool to be enforced with fines and prison terms?
Do I really believe that George Bush, Teddy Kennedy, Hillary Clinton, and Trent Lott will have my best interests at heart when they fashion this new program or law?

Why should I believe supporting this program will lead to exactly the solution I believe is right — when I have no way to control the outcome?

Do I really think the politicians won't expand the scope and cost of this program far beyond what they're talking about today?

Do I really want to give politicians this kind of power — knowing that some day the politicians and party I don't like will have it at their disposal?

Why in the world should I think this government program will work any better than any government program of the past?

How can I hope to bring about small, limited government when I'm suggesting a new government program that will take us further away from the Constitution?

Conclusion

If you really want to cure a pressing social problem, take steps outside the realm of government. If you don't see how you can convince people to help you succeed in a non-governmental endeavor, how can you expect to control politicians who care nothing for your desires?
And if you really want to make a noticeable difference, if you really want to improve life, do something for yourself or your family today. That's where you have real control, that's where you don't need to rely on politicians — or anyone else — and you can make sure the results are as you intend.

Amen, Harry.

The Devil and Tom DeLay

2006-04-05T01:00:00.000-05:00

As you know by now, my Congressman Tom has decided to resign his seat and withdraw from the November general election. That's his right, and I do not begrudge him that. HOWEVER, Tom, it wasn't two weeks ago you were talking about beating Nick Lampson and announcing on the radio your plans for your next term and what you wanted the GOP agenda to be.

At political fundraiser in Houston over the weekend, you were shaking hands, raising money and acting like a candidate, but you told TIME magazine that you made this decision several weeks ago.

Gee, it didn't have anything to do two of your staffers pleading guilty to federal charges and a third under investigation, did it?

I don't want to sound like I am some moral high horse, because I am not and I have my own share of problems. But shouldn't your constituents be among the first to know you aren't going to run for the seat you won the primary election for just a few weeks back? You tell TIME, you tell the President, your staff, etc, but I have to hear about it from Chris Matthews?

And if you knew your heart wasn't in it, why didn't you withdraw prior to the primary? Republicans are supposed to be about less government, but in withdrawing after the primary election, you now let the GOP pick Lampson's opponent in November rather than the people. AND I HAVE A BIG PROBLEM WITH THAT!

I first met Tom DeLay when I was in high school and he was a state rep from Sugar Land. In college, I lobbied him on behalf of Baylor University and ICUT (Independent Colleges and Universities of Texas). He has always been warm and gracious to me. He is a tough cookie, but you almost have to be. But acting like a candidate when you knew you weren't going to be and depriving the people of a legitimate primary election -- well that just ticks me off.

I wish you well in your future endeavors, which I hear will include lobbying on behalf of faith-based entities. Good luck with that. The thing about faith-based entities though is that they like their people, their representative to actually tell the truth and not act like something they aren't.

And yeah, I need to do a little "beam research" in this field.

New post

2006-04-04T10:26:00.000-05:00

Someone sent me an email last week saying I needed to post again on my blog.

I just did.

West Point and NYC

2005-09-19T20:22:00.000-05:00

I just returned this weekend from a trip to NYC with 2 friends and my cousin. As any proud Southerner would say, I could never stay in NYC for an extended period of time, but long weekends are just great. Sometimes I go up there on business; this trip was pure pleasure.

My alma mater was playing the United States Military Academy (Army) this weekend in football. Last fall, after a seminar, I extended my stay a few days and went to West Point to watch the Air Force Academy play Army (word of advice -- don't take the train on game days; there is a $30 one-way cab ride that makes it very difficult, especially since there are no cabs at West Point or Highland Falls). I considered that a scouting trip for last weekend's trip.

The Hudson Valley is one of the most picturesque parts of this country. It is easy to see why NYC's wealthiest families built houses along the Hudson.

While in NYC, my friends did a little shopping. My cousin, who was on his first trip to NYC, did some scouting for a trip he and his wife might take later this fall or next spring. Friday, my cousin and I did a quick trip to the Academy to see what we would not have time for the following day. Take the West Point tour if you ever go -- it's beautiful.

Friday night, it was time for dinner, NYC style. Ben Benson's is one of my favorite restaurants anywhere, and Friday, it lived up to its billing. Superb food and service, and the company was outstanding. We were joined by an old friend from Shreveport and his associate who lives in my neck of the woods. Both work in NYC on the weekends for a major network, and are celebrities in their own right. It was nice to be at The Table -- you know the one, slightly raised, center of the room, the place to be seen. For a few hours Friday night, that was us.

We closed the night with stories and laughter. No better way to spend the night in NYC. More on the trip later.

College football, and a rant

2005-09-15T04:24:00.000-05:00

I'm back, although I was never really away. It's college football season, and that takes up much of my weekends. Labor Day weekend was especially busy and 2 buddies of mine and I hosted a tailgate party in Dallas prior to the BU-SMU game that was attended by over 200 folks.

We cooked 18 racks of ribs, a massive pork loin, 2 briskets and 15 pounds of sausage. Not one scrap of food was left. The following Monday, members of The Shed came over to my house for 6 more racks of ribs, 12 pounds of chicken and 5 pounds of sausage.

Then the following weekend, it was burgers, chicken and sausage again for the home opener in Waco. I still don't have the feeling back in the tip of my right index finger.

I love the fall.

But I hate Christians who practice an ends-justifies-the means ethic. This week, "good Christian folks" have chosen to slander me and lie about me to some I care about, even committing criminal acts under Texas law, but "they mean well." What a load of horse crap! Christianity is not a religion; it is a lifestyle. God judges us on our ethics and our fellowship as well as our devotion to him (I never capitalize "him" when referring to God -- consider me a slave to the Chicago Manual of Style). God looks closely at our ends, but I think he looks even more closely at our means. As I read the gospels, how we live is far more important to God than what our intentions and purposes are.

Jesus said, "Turn the other cheek." Well I am running out of cheeks. I pray that God will give me the grace to show them that they have failed to extend to me. In any event, I still sleep well at night, knowing that my relationship with God is good, and I am secure in that.

Don'r forget, Jesus spent most of his time on earth not fighting the Devil, but fighting institutionalized religion. The Pharisees of Jesus' day meant well; they had good intentions. But they missed the boat completely on the means. Jesus' only display of rage was precipitated by folks capitalizing on Temple ritual -- they meant well. They were providing a service to worshippers in the Temple. But their means were an abomination.

Remember, there is only one outward test of our inward salvation: "that we love one another." How come I shudder when someone comes up to me and put their arm on my shoulder and says, "I am telling you this in Christian love." Then what follows is usually some of the most hurtful and even hateful venom. Folks, that ain't Christian love. The Apostle John, according to legend, in his old age as Bishop of Ephesus, could hardly speak. So as he was carried into meeting places (the first churches), he would simply utter "Love one another" in a barely audible whisper.

We Baptists (I consider myself a Texas Baptist, not SBC -- but that will be the subject of another post one day) are really good on Paul. We like Paul. But James and John give us trouble. And it bugs me that Christians, who have experienced untimate forgiveness -- from God -- are some of the worst when it comes to forgiving. That ain't scriptural folks. Even Paul tells us to make things right with our brother before we pray.

And this applies to me as much as it does anyone. So if you are out there, hold me accountable. Just don't preface it with, "I am telling you this in Christian love." You might get decked.

Katrina

2005-08-29T01:02:00.000-05:00

My cousin has a friend named Katrina. She was always very nice. Ironically, she was from Louisiana. Now there is a new Katrina, and she isn't nice.

During my law school days, I spent a lot of time in New Orleans. I even lived there for 8 weeks one summer. It is a city I visit each year, and one of my Christmas traditions is heading to New Orleans with my cousin for a weekend of high school football championships and some early Christmas shopping and plenty of good eating.

Now, sometime in the next 24 hours, Katrina could wipe out the city I have come to love (when taken in small doses). New Orleans sits in a basin, below sea level, and it is surrounded by swamps on the east, the Mississippi River on the south, Lake Ponchartrain on the north and more swamps and rivers to the west. The storm surge from the Gulf of Mexico could overwhelm the city. If it doesn't, the storm surge from the Lake could overwhelm the city. Or it may be both. Certain flooding, and I have yet to consider the feet (not inches) of rain that could fall over the next 24 hours.

Quite literally, much of this city, affectionately known as the Big Easy, could be swept away and wiped out. Oddly, the oldest partof town, the French Quarter, is probably the best equipped to withstand the storm. It sits on the highest ground in the city. The buildings share common walls, which actually makes them more likely to withstand high winds.

Tens of thousands could die. It will be weeks and months to get things back to some sense of normalcy.

Shame

2005-08-25T12:39:00.000-05:00

In Wednesday's Houston Chronicle, in a story on page A11 headlined "Robertson's remarks on Chavez shock Texas Baptists," Rev. Gary A. Moore, senior associate pastor of Second Baptist in Houston refuses to take a stand against what Pat Roberston said in calling for the assassination of Hugo Chavez. He did not want "to sit in judgment" of Robertson, and that Robertson has the right to speak his mind. He did say the Christian leaders should be careful of how they use their influence. I just wish Gary Moore had been more careful of how he used his influence in this case.

Shame on you, Gary, and shame on Second for not rebuking you for these remarks. What Robertson said was wrong. By not stating it is wrong, how are you different from any Muslim that refuses to condemn the extremists terrorizing the world?

And folks wonder why Christian leaders get so little respect.

edit, to add new information:

In the 11:11 service at Second this past Sunday, at the outset of the sermon, Ben Young repudiated RObertson's comments from the pulpit. Good for Ben and good for Second.

Scared, and amazed

2005-08-22T15:53:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, I took some time to go with a big group of other singles from HFBC to the San Marcos River for a tubing trip. It was great to get away from the rat race and spend some time with my friends and make some new ones. My presence was also necessary for entertainment and to educate those youts (think Joe Pesci) on the greatness that was the Mac Davis Show.

The return trip involved a detour to Gruene and the Grist Mill restaurant. What a lovely place! I hope to go back soon when I have some time to spend there.

On the way home, I witnessed a horrendous 1-car accident. The girl driving the pick-up veered off the left shoulder of the road, over-corrected and began to roll and ejected the passenger. Then the truck did an end-over-end flip and came to rest. We stopped and called 911 and tried to render aid. The sight of that person being ejected from the truck was something I never hope to see again.

While walking in the grass, I found the license of the truck's driver. She was a young 18-year old girl who was a cheerleader at John Marshall High School in San Antonio. She was born on Christmas Day. Her passenger was a 17-year old boy. Both of them were far too young to have to go through something this serious.

As soon as we saw the truck leave, we all prayed for their safety -- in very different ways. I was silent. Lori was vocal. And in talking Felisha as she lay in the grass, trying to keep her awake and conscious, the prayers never ceased. The boy, David, seemed to be in better shape. In spite of being thrown from the truck, was summoned enough strength to walk around a little, and he even got Felisha out of the vehicle after it came to a rest.

Lori spoke to several family members to tell them what had happened. Her voice was a voice of concern and comfort to these family members, as their children were being airlifted from mile marker 654 on I-10 to San Antonio.

In spite of the horrific nature of the accident, leaving the Interstate at 70 mph, rolling twice and flipping once, our prayers were answered. We learned Sunday that Felisha had a few lacerations on her head (all within the hairline, I believe) and a broken ankle, plus a few bumps and bruises. David, in spite of being thrown from the truck, suffered a few bumps and bruises and a broken finger. He had been released from the hospital Saunday morning.

Yes, God does answer prayers. And sometimes he even answers them in the way we want him to.

2005-08-19T01:45:00.000-05:00

Miracles appear in the strangest of places

Fancy me finding you here

The last time I saw you was just out of Houston

Let me sit down and buy you a beer

Your presence is welcome with me and my friend here

This is a hangout of mine

We come here quite often and listen to music

And to taste yesterday's wine

You may not like Willie Nelson very much, but there's a lot of truth in his lyrics. Maybe that is why they call country music "three chords and the truth." Yesterday's wine is a good thing -- it is our memory. But the real truth of this song is the first line -- Miracles appear in the strangest of places. How true! We often go through life looking for a miracle in places we expect to find one, and all the while we overlook the miracles that occur all around us in the unexpected places. Life is found in that serendipity. And serendipity is life.

This past weekend, at a party honoring Baylor baseball's most recent season (and most successful one), I experienced serendipity. In the strangest of places. Tonight, it happened again. These weren't big exploding fireworks moments, but they were unexpected blessings in the strangest of places.

To find these miracles though, you must first place yourself in the strangest of places. I'm an introvert; I don't like the party scene and crowds. I used to joke that I don't like people very much -- well, that's only partially true. For me, getting out there is getting out of my comfort zone -- for me that is the strangest of places. And one week from today, I am hosting a dinner party. Me? A host? Yet another strangest of places.

So get out there and experience the strangest of places, even when you go there "quite often," as in the song. You might even discover that you are the miracle.

There's a first time for everything.....

2005-08-18T01:58:00.000-05:00

It's an old country song (well, not so old, but it was sung back when country music was good instead of formulaic), and it is also a sign that I have jumped on the blogger bandwagon.

I'll publish sporadicly, essentially when I feel like it. There is no rhyme nor reason for what I will put here. Some of it will be be about work; some of it will be about life; anything that crosses my mind is fair game.

I welcome comments, but permit no cowardice - so in order to comment, you must reveal your identity.