Rodney Strange's Blog, page 16
January 25, 2015
'When I Was Just The Rusty Goat'
Now that we're well into the beginning of 'twenty-fifteen', I thought I'd update y'all on how my New Year's resolutions are coming along. I know you've been wondering. I didn't sit down and resolve myself to do anything in particular per se, but as I look back over the past few weeks, apparently I subconsciously made a resolution or two. I think we all do, knowingly or not. I personally had little to improve on. I quit smoking last year and have marked that off my bucket list. I'm not overweight and I'm spiritual in my own way, so getting my life straight was not something I needed to concentrate on. But I have made a few changes that are sure to impact my comfortable little life.
Those of you who keep up with me remember in a recent blog post I divulged that ever since I've been writing and blogging, I had kept it a secret...up until just a few weeks ago. Well, let's face it...if an author is going to sell a few books, he really is obliged to put his name on them. I've written under the guise of 'The Rusty Goat' for years now and it's getting harder and harder to cash those paltry checks with his name on them down at the grocery store. So, with much hesitation, I have begun to attach my name to more and more of my works. I suppose it's time to begin fazing out the Rusty Goat anyway. He was that legendary woman chasing Saturday night cowboy who shared all his adventures with you and a few million others all over the world. He was always good for a few laughs, but let's face it, he lacked substance. I wish to be remembered for more than all that and I've come to the realization that nobody is ever going to remember me if I don't put my name out there. And so I have, and it hasn't been easy.
I've never tooted my own horn. All my life I've always slithered around in the shadows. I was Incognito Man...hey, hold on! Have I just created a new super hero? I'll have to ponder that idea...back on track. So, all my friends and family and the folks down at the church now know I write. No, none of them really seem to care, at least not enough to buy my books, but I no longer need to wear my mask. There has been a problem or two crop up. For instance, that girl from high school now knows I've written a book. I don't think she is aware that I wrote a book about her...thank goodness she's not a reader! It was a bizarre twist of events the other night. I was cruising the dating site...you might remember I mentioned that I do that to hawk my books to unsuspecting lonely single women. An attractive woman had sunk her virtual claws into me and we struck up a virtual conversation. Within a hundred and forty characters, including spaces and punctuation, she began questioning me about my writing. As I saw my plan to sell books on dating sites falling into place, I eagerly began telling her all about my books. With the two of us enthralled in conversation, suddenly a message pops up on my facebook messenger...from the high school girlfriend. It said simply, 'So, I see you've written a book...interesting!'
I freaked out right then and there and now in panic mode, zipped straight over to Amazon.com. Well, I did't exactly zip due to the fact that my daughter was hogging the internet with her Netflix account. Anyway, leaving my new anonymous online girlfrend hanging, I eventually got the Amazon page to load and within thirty minutes (Netflix...SMH) had taken my book, 'Nineteen Seventy Something' off the market. Sweat poured from my brow as I wondered if I had made it in time before the old girlfriend had a chance to buy it. With shaky hands, I returned to the dating site to see if my new girlfriend was still on hold.
'Sorry,' I typed, 'Had a major emergency come up. You still there?' Her response came back, 'Yes, everything okay?' Well, I didn't know this woman but I really needed someone to talk to, so I told what had just happened. She seemed amused and after a few minutes she had managed to calm my fears somewhat, that is until she made a statement that made my eyes bulge in terror, for no stranger should have known what she knew! Was she...could she be...I pulled up her profile and stared hard at the pictures she had posted. I forced my memory to kick into gear...remember...remember! What would that high school girlfriend look like now, thirty something years later? Would she look like the picture I now gazed at? Was I spilling my secrets to her on this online dating site? Gripped with fear, I politely excused myself from the woman who had caught my attention and went to bed. No, I didn't sleep a wink the entire night!
The facebook message from the girl from so many years ago was still awaiting a reply when I stumbled toward the coffeepot the following morning. I had to respond. After hours of sleepless worry, I still had no idea what I would say. I had managed to convince myself that the woman on the dating site could not possibly be the old girlfriend. That had given me some room to breathe. But after dredging through a very long and foggy minded day, I sat down to the laptop that evening and pulled up the facebook message.
'So, I see you've written a book...interesting!'
It was still there waiting for my answer. What did I have to lose, I thought. Tell her, yes I have written several books and by golly, one was all about her! What could she do...scream at me over facebook? She might even be flattered. No, scratch that. I did not flatter her in my book. She wouldn't be flattered. She'd be pissed off. Well, that is an understatement, I told myself as my fingers found the keyboard. With a deep breath, I began typing my response:
"Oh that. Yeah, no big deal. Just some little thing I felt the need to scratch off my bucket list, ya know."
Minutes later, "Well cool. Send me a copy whenever you publish it and I'll critique it for you."
That was easy enough, I thought to myself as I exhaled a sigh of relief. And with that situation under control, I wandered over to the dating site in search for my new girlfriend.
"Hey girl! Whacha doing?"
"Oh hi there! I was just going over my bucket list!"
Another sleepless night...it was so much easier when I was just the Rusty Goat!
Those of you who keep up with me remember in a recent blog post I divulged that ever since I've been writing and blogging, I had kept it a secret...up until just a few weeks ago. Well, let's face it...if an author is going to sell a few books, he really is obliged to put his name on them. I've written under the guise of 'The Rusty Goat' for years now and it's getting harder and harder to cash those paltry checks with his name on them down at the grocery store. So, with much hesitation, I have begun to attach my name to more and more of my works. I suppose it's time to begin fazing out the Rusty Goat anyway. He was that legendary woman chasing Saturday night cowboy who shared all his adventures with you and a few million others all over the world. He was always good for a few laughs, but let's face it, he lacked substance. I wish to be remembered for more than all that and I've come to the realization that nobody is ever going to remember me if I don't put my name out there. And so I have, and it hasn't been easy.
I've never tooted my own horn. All my life I've always slithered around in the shadows. I was Incognito Man...hey, hold on! Have I just created a new super hero? I'll have to ponder that idea...back on track. So, all my friends and family and the folks down at the church now know I write. No, none of them really seem to care, at least not enough to buy my books, but I no longer need to wear my mask. There has been a problem or two crop up. For instance, that girl from high school now knows I've written a book. I don't think she is aware that I wrote a book about her...thank goodness she's not a reader! It was a bizarre twist of events the other night. I was cruising the dating site...you might remember I mentioned that I do that to hawk my books to unsuspecting lonely single women. An attractive woman had sunk her virtual claws into me and we struck up a virtual conversation. Within a hundred and forty characters, including spaces and punctuation, she began questioning me about my writing. As I saw my plan to sell books on dating sites falling into place, I eagerly began telling her all about my books. With the two of us enthralled in conversation, suddenly a message pops up on my facebook messenger...from the high school girlfriend. It said simply, 'So, I see you've written a book...interesting!'
I freaked out right then and there and now in panic mode, zipped straight over to Amazon.com. Well, I did't exactly zip due to the fact that my daughter was hogging the internet with her Netflix account. Anyway, leaving my new anonymous online girlfrend hanging, I eventually got the Amazon page to load and within thirty minutes (Netflix...SMH) had taken my book, 'Nineteen Seventy Something' off the market. Sweat poured from my brow as I wondered if I had made it in time before the old girlfriend had a chance to buy it. With shaky hands, I returned to the dating site to see if my new girlfriend was still on hold.
'Sorry,' I typed, 'Had a major emergency come up. You still there?' Her response came back, 'Yes, everything okay?' Well, I didn't know this woman but I really needed someone to talk to, so I told what had just happened. She seemed amused and after a few minutes she had managed to calm my fears somewhat, that is until she made a statement that made my eyes bulge in terror, for no stranger should have known what she knew! Was she...could she be...I pulled up her profile and stared hard at the pictures she had posted. I forced my memory to kick into gear...remember...remember! What would that high school girlfriend look like now, thirty something years later? Would she look like the picture I now gazed at? Was I spilling my secrets to her on this online dating site? Gripped with fear, I politely excused myself from the woman who had caught my attention and went to bed. No, I didn't sleep a wink the entire night!
The facebook message from the girl from so many years ago was still awaiting a reply when I stumbled toward the coffeepot the following morning. I had to respond. After hours of sleepless worry, I still had no idea what I would say. I had managed to convince myself that the woman on the dating site could not possibly be the old girlfriend. That had given me some room to breathe. But after dredging through a very long and foggy minded day, I sat down to the laptop that evening and pulled up the facebook message.
'So, I see you've written a book...interesting!'
It was still there waiting for my answer. What did I have to lose, I thought. Tell her, yes I have written several books and by golly, one was all about her! What could she do...scream at me over facebook? She might even be flattered. No, scratch that. I did not flatter her in my book. She wouldn't be flattered. She'd be pissed off. Well, that is an understatement, I told myself as my fingers found the keyboard. With a deep breath, I began typing my response:
"Oh that. Yeah, no big deal. Just some little thing I felt the need to scratch off my bucket list, ya know."
Minutes later, "Well cool. Send me a copy whenever you publish it and I'll critique it for you."
That was easy enough, I thought to myself as I exhaled a sigh of relief. And with that situation under control, I wandered over to the dating site in search for my new girlfriend.
"Hey girl! Whacha doing?"
"Oh hi there! I was just going over my bucket list!"
Another sleepless night...it was so much easier when I was just the Rusty Goat!
December 26, 2014
A Story Whose Time Has Come
I stretched my arms and tiptoed to reach the old cardboard box that rested on the top shelf in the closet of my spare bedroom. As I lowered it gingerly while attempting to maneuver through the narrow door, a multitude of random sheets of paper and worn manila envelopes deluged me, scattering themselves on the floor beneath me. I uttered a curse word under my breath and plopped the heavy box on the bed, then swooped up the fallen debris and laid it on the bed beside the box. As I write this, I do not recall what document of importance I was searching for at the time. Perhaps old tax records or some divorce decree or another, but as I raffled through the box I came across something long forgotten, something of no importance really, but yet the discovery of it sidetracked me. I took the stack of papers in my hand and sat on the bed, smiling as I read the first few sentences. What I held in my hands was an extremely rough draft of a feeble attempt to write a novel, my very first attempt somewhere back in time...I believe it was 1994.
Typed on a word processor in the days before Bill Gates put a computer in every home, the draft consisted of a mere seventy some-odd pages. The plot was solid enough, I thought as my eyes scanned the pages. The characters had character, I decided. Perhaps something could be done to bring this forgotten work back to life nearly twenty years later...it would take work, lots of work.
The draft was written during a time of turmoil in my life, and the story followed a vague timeline similar to my true life experiences. Having long forgotten what I had originally set out to find in that worn cardboard box, I sat and read the manuscript into the wee hours of the morning. Over the course of the next several weeks, my mind began to rewrite this story, page by page, and before the first keystroke, I knew how it would end. Much had changed in my life since that first manuscript and with numerous life experiences and the advantage of now being able to see twenty years past the era in which this novel plays out, I flet satisfied that this seventy page script's time had come. If I could only take the words of an inexperienced wanna-be writer and make them blossom... that would be the challenge.
I don't know how most author's minds work, how their ideas flow through their mind, or where they find their prototypes to form a character, but many of my ideas come to me as I first open my eyes with the first light of day. I was well into my rewrite when I awoke one morning with an idea so overwhelming that I truly felt it had been sent to me by God Himself. It would change to course of this story. It would give this frivolous tale substance. It might possibly change lives! With renewed energy, I wrote fervently as more ideas flowed and my creativity fueled my brain. With a primary plot accompanied by numerous subplots, the story began to take on a whole new meaning to me.
My original draft had subtle hints of the supernatural, of dreams and visions and a mysterious force that seemed to always lead the character forward. As I formed this story into what I hoped would be a literary piece that might contain something for a reader to take to heart, I began to realize that the reason I had never taken this writing any further than a cardboard box was simply because...I was not ready! This book needed a purpose, and in 1994 neither it nor I had one. It was not an accident that I stumbled across it twenty years later. It was no accident that it had never found its way into a trash can over the two decades it had sat in wait. It had waited patiently at the bottom of an old box waiting for me to grow. Waiting for me to find my own purpose. Waiting for me to find God.
What would have fallen to the bottom of the rank in cheesy romance novels, this book has evolved into a powerful Christian fiction novel. A character desperately searching for answers, a man who will never find what he seeks until he allows himself to give his troubles to his Creator. This novel sets its boundaries as far as one can go to escape God's plans for a man and some may find it a stretch to call it a christian book. It details the temptations, the sins, and the flee from a God who is so willing to assist. Packed with action, suspense, unexpected twists and the supernatural, the book will entertain even those who would never consider indulging themselves in literature with a Godly twist. This book rolls cowboys and Indians, bad cops, drug dealers, a faithful dog, and a budding love story all together to create an edge-of-your-seat, nail biting tale that will hopefully leave a reader clamoring for more. And more is what you will get!
"The Chimera Parables" is the first book of a series tentatively titled, "Lives of Steele," a series that will take you though one man's life journey. The final chapter of "The Chimera Parables" has been written. It just needs to be read! Get my book here: http://ow.ly/Gs6VR
Typed on a word processor in the days before Bill Gates put a computer in every home, the draft consisted of a mere seventy some-odd pages. The plot was solid enough, I thought as my eyes scanned the pages. The characters had character, I decided. Perhaps something could be done to bring this forgotten work back to life nearly twenty years later...it would take work, lots of work.
The draft was written during a time of turmoil in my life, and the story followed a vague timeline similar to my true life experiences. Having long forgotten what I had originally set out to find in that worn cardboard box, I sat and read the manuscript into the wee hours of the morning. Over the course of the next several weeks, my mind began to rewrite this story, page by page, and before the first keystroke, I knew how it would end. Much had changed in my life since that first manuscript and with numerous life experiences and the advantage of now being able to see twenty years past the era in which this novel plays out, I flet satisfied that this seventy page script's time had come. If I could only take the words of an inexperienced wanna-be writer and make them blossom... that would be the challenge.
I don't know how most author's minds work, how their ideas flow through their mind, or where they find their prototypes to form a character, but many of my ideas come to me as I first open my eyes with the first light of day. I was well into my rewrite when I awoke one morning with an idea so overwhelming that I truly felt it had been sent to me by God Himself. It would change to course of this story. It would give this frivolous tale substance. It might possibly change lives! With renewed energy, I wrote fervently as more ideas flowed and my creativity fueled my brain. With a primary plot accompanied by numerous subplots, the story began to take on a whole new meaning to me.
My original draft had subtle hints of the supernatural, of dreams and visions and a mysterious force that seemed to always lead the character forward. As I formed this story into what I hoped would be a literary piece that might contain something for a reader to take to heart, I began to realize that the reason I had never taken this writing any further than a cardboard box was simply because...I was not ready! This book needed a purpose, and in 1994 neither it nor I had one. It was not an accident that I stumbled across it twenty years later. It was no accident that it had never found its way into a trash can over the two decades it had sat in wait. It had waited patiently at the bottom of an old box waiting for me to grow. Waiting for me to find my own purpose. Waiting for me to find God.
What would have fallen to the bottom of the rank in cheesy romance novels, this book has evolved into a powerful Christian fiction novel. A character desperately searching for answers, a man who will never find what he seeks until he allows himself to give his troubles to his Creator. This novel sets its boundaries as far as one can go to escape God's plans for a man and some may find it a stretch to call it a christian book. It details the temptations, the sins, and the flee from a God who is so willing to assist. Packed with action, suspense, unexpected twists and the supernatural, the book will entertain even those who would never consider indulging themselves in literature with a Godly twist. This book rolls cowboys and Indians, bad cops, drug dealers, a faithful dog, and a budding love story all together to create an edge-of-your-seat, nail biting tale that will hopefully leave a reader clamoring for more. And more is what you will get!
"The Chimera Parables" is the first book of a series tentatively titled, "Lives of Steele," a series that will take you though one man's life journey. The final chapter of "The Chimera Parables" has been written. It just needs to be read! Get my book here: http://ow.ly/Gs6VR
February 17, 2014
Stuck On Ourselves
I stepped into the office of an accountant friend of mine just a few minutes past five yesterday. I had called him earlier seeking some free tax advice and he'd suggested I catch him around closing time. As the door closed behind me, his receptionist glanced up from her computer, giving me the 'oh, it's you' look,' then returned her attention to her work.
"He's with a client. Just take a seat over there."
She pointed a finger toward a chair located the furthest distance from her desk. I grinned and took a seat in a chair in front of her desk. I watched her purposely ignore me as my mind drifted back a couple of years ago when this woman had been at the top of my 'most datable' list.
I had asked her to lunch just a few weeks after she had taken a job with my friend's business. She had politely declined, explaining how she really needed to stay home and clean house. The rejection had reminded me of a verse in a song...'I'd rather wash my car in the rain.'
Nevertheless, I had patiently waited for another opportunity to ask this attractive fifty year old woman out, and six months later simply popped off a 'Wanna go to the movies tonight?' Without so much as a viable excuse this time, she had replied with a harsh, heartless, 'No.' And so, I now sat just across from her watching her work, obviously irritated by my constant gaze. Personally, I found it amusing. It was just a few weeks ago that she had discovered that I was not just a destitute local boy whose failing pecan orchard had one foot in the grave due to a three year long drought, whose last few goats out of a herd of prime, registered Boer goats had ran off in search of greener pastures and an elusive drink of water. Someone had let it slip in the course of conversation. He's an author, they had told her. He's written books. He has a popular blog...millions of readers...he ranks in the top five percent of all Twitter accounts worldwide. He is...The Rusty Goat. Somehow that had changed things in her little mind.
I ran into her at the grocery store a week or so ago and she eagerly questioned me about my writing with, "I hear you have written a book!" I replied that I was in the middle of writing my third, now aware that I had suddenly become 'datable' to this woman who had spurned me. We chatted briefly before she casually reminded me, with a twinkle in her eye, that I'd never 'cashed in' that rain check she'd supposedly extended on the lunch date from two years ago. I smiled and replied, "Yeah, I'm still waiting for the rain. Doesn't look like it'll ever come, does it!" With that, I drifted off toward the frozen food aisle, leaving her to mull my statement over in her little mind. It was during he following day that my friend, her boss, informed me that she had been questioning him about me. I acknowledged that I had seen a change in her attitude toward me.
"You know what she is really waiting on is a younger man. Someone in his mid-thirties to come along. She is just that stuck on herself," my friend said.
I replied, "When I was in my mid-thirties I had a smokin' hot twenty four year old hot on my tail. I'd have never given a woman her age a second glance. It must be sad to be so stuck on yourself that you'd rather sit home all alone for the rest of your life."
And so, yesterday as I watched her swivel her office chair around, her back to me as she fumbled with a jammed printer, I wondered if my remark hadn't somehow found its way back to her. Moments later, behind a closed office door, my friend laughingly confessed that he had perhaps let that slip out. I made a mental note to be cautious what I said to him in the future, then added his secretary to my 'When Hell Freezes Over' list.
It's my personal opinion that the folks who society deems 'attractive' really miss out on so much of life. This is contrary to statistics which tell us that attractive high school students score the highest grades. Attractive people are more apt to be accepted into the best colleges as a result. Attractive people climb the corporate ladder faster than the rest of us. Attractive people accumulate more wealth during their lifetime. Society obviously rewards people who are stuck on themselves. We all seem to put these people on a better playing field, a higher pedestal. They don't have to do anything to get there except...stand there and look pretty.
Some may caution me that attractiveness does not necessarily go hand in hand with conceit. Ah, but you forget I prowl the dating sites, as any single man has a right to do. Years of experience tells me that beauty and conceit do indeed tend to travel together. An attractive woman does not put me off. I'm not blind and I'm just as normal as any man. It is an attitude, a feeling of self superiority that sometimes accompanies 'the beautiful ones' that really turns me off. I often question whether we as a society actually placed them on their pedestal or if they crawled up there on their own and the rest of us just accepted the fact that we should be as stuck on them as they are themselves.
I confess that from time to time I have caught myself thinking about someone passing by...'Why did God make someone so ugly?' My grandaddy's saying always comes to mind, 'She's so ugly she has to slip up on a dipper to get a drink of water.' You know you've caught yourself thinking that too! I always feel remorseful when such thoughts pass through my mind and I ask for forgiveness for my mortal shortcomings. I have to remind myself that God doesn't judge us by our looks, in fact He only recognizes us from within. It is our hearts and souls that shine for our Creator. In the first book of Samuel (16:7) it states: "The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.' Regardless of what society deems 'acceptably attractive,' the truth is...God doesn't make junk. We're all beautiful to Him. We should make it a priority to find the beautiful-ness of everyone around us. If we have our hearts right with God and live and love as He wishes us to, we become 'attractive people.' When we reach that point it's okay to be 'stuck on ourselves.'
"He's with a client. Just take a seat over there."
She pointed a finger toward a chair located the furthest distance from her desk. I grinned and took a seat in a chair in front of her desk. I watched her purposely ignore me as my mind drifted back a couple of years ago when this woman had been at the top of my 'most datable' list.
I had asked her to lunch just a few weeks after she had taken a job with my friend's business. She had politely declined, explaining how she really needed to stay home and clean house. The rejection had reminded me of a verse in a song...'I'd rather wash my car in the rain.'
Nevertheless, I had patiently waited for another opportunity to ask this attractive fifty year old woman out, and six months later simply popped off a 'Wanna go to the movies tonight?' Without so much as a viable excuse this time, she had replied with a harsh, heartless, 'No.' And so, I now sat just across from her watching her work, obviously irritated by my constant gaze. Personally, I found it amusing. It was just a few weeks ago that she had discovered that I was not just a destitute local boy whose failing pecan orchard had one foot in the grave due to a three year long drought, whose last few goats out of a herd of prime, registered Boer goats had ran off in search of greener pastures and an elusive drink of water. Someone had let it slip in the course of conversation. He's an author, they had told her. He's written books. He has a popular blog...millions of readers...he ranks in the top five percent of all Twitter accounts worldwide. He is...The Rusty Goat. Somehow that had changed things in her little mind.
I ran into her at the grocery store a week or so ago and she eagerly questioned me about my writing with, "I hear you have written a book!" I replied that I was in the middle of writing my third, now aware that I had suddenly become 'datable' to this woman who had spurned me. We chatted briefly before she casually reminded me, with a twinkle in her eye, that I'd never 'cashed in' that rain check she'd supposedly extended on the lunch date from two years ago. I smiled and replied, "Yeah, I'm still waiting for the rain. Doesn't look like it'll ever come, does it!" With that, I drifted off toward the frozen food aisle, leaving her to mull my statement over in her little mind. It was during he following day that my friend, her boss, informed me that she had been questioning him about me. I acknowledged that I had seen a change in her attitude toward me.
"You know what she is really waiting on is a younger man. Someone in his mid-thirties to come along. She is just that stuck on herself," my friend said.
I replied, "When I was in my mid-thirties I had a smokin' hot twenty four year old hot on my tail. I'd have never given a woman her age a second glance. It must be sad to be so stuck on yourself that you'd rather sit home all alone for the rest of your life."
And so, yesterday as I watched her swivel her office chair around, her back to me as she fumbled with a jammed printer, I wondered if my remark hadn't somehow found its way back to her. Moments later, behind a closed office door, my friend laughingly confessed that he had perhaps let that slip out. I made a mental note to be cautious what I said to him in the future, then added his secretary to my 'When Hell Freezes Over' list.
It's my personal opinion that the folks who society deems 'attractive' really miss out on so much of life. This is contrary to statistics which tell us that attractive high school students score the highest grades. Attractive people are more apt to be accepted into the best colleges as a result. Attractive people climb the corporate ladder faster than the rest of us. Attractive people accumulate more wealth during their lifetime. Society obviously rewards people who are stuck on themselves. We all seem to put these people on a better playing field, a higher pedestal. They don't have to do anything to get there except...stand there and look pretty.
Some may caution me that attractiveness does not necessarily go hand in hand with conceit. Ah, but you forget I prowl the dating sites, as any single man has a right to do. Years of experience tells me that beauty and conceit do indeed tend to travel together. An attractive woman does not put me off. I'm not blind and I'm just as normal as any man. It is an attitude, a feeling of self superiority that sometimes accompanies 'the beautiful ones' that really turns me off. I often question whether we as a society actually placed them on their pedestal or if they crawled up there on their own and the rest of us just accepted the fact that we should be as stuck on them as they are themselves.
I confess that from time to time I have caught myself thinking about someone passing by...'Why did God make someone so ugly?' My grandaddy's saying always comes to mind, 'She's so ugly she has to slip up on a dipper to get a drink of water.' You know you've caught yourself thinking that too! I always feel remorseful when such thoughts pass through my mind and I ask for forgiveness for my mortal shortcomings. I have to remind myself that God doesn't judge us by our looks, in fact He only recognizes us from within. It is our hearts and souls that shine for our Creator. In the first book of Samuel (16:7) it states: "The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.' Regardless of what society deems 'acceptably attractive,' the truth is...God doesn't make junk. We're all beautiful to Him. We should make it a priority to find the beautiful-ness of everyone around us. If we have our hearts right with God and live and love as He wishes us to, we become 'attractive people.' When we reach that point it's okay to be 'stuck on ourselves.'
September 15, 2013
When A Dust Devil Blows Through Your Life...
Shortly after September 11, 2001...
I pressed the gas pedal to the floor as I passed the city limit sign, heading north. Along the highway burning Army jeeps, tanks, and transport trucks littered the landscape. I dodged the crators left by bombs dropped from aircraft only minutes earlier, trying to keep the pickup on the tattered roadway. The landscape around me was cluttered by countless fires and black smoke that plumed it's way into the darkened sky. I could see more bombs exploding ahead of me in the direction I was heading. My frantic mind tried to form some sort of plan of action...rather a reasonable reaction to what was occuring all around me as I sped toward my destination. The devastation seemed less intense as I reached open country and I clenched my teeth as determination to achieve my goal pushed me forward. As I neared the city some thirty minutes later, more destruction became evident...burning homes and barns, more destroyed Army vehicles...and the bombing. The deafening sounds seemed to shake the ground beneath my truck. When I reached a tiny suburb of the city, my eyes widened in horror. Thick smoke billowed through the air and the highway in front of me...disappeared. I swerved the vehicle into a ditch as my feet pressed the brake pedal to the floor. Before the truck came to a complete stop, I had leaped into the bed of the truck, shoving a four-wheeler out onto the ground with such force that only an over-dose of adrenaline could justify. I jumped onto the ATV and headed across country, dodging smouldering crators as enemy aircraft flew overhead. My destination: The buring city before me. My mission: To save my young daughter.
I awoke from the dream in a sweat, panting heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. It would prove to be the dream that never left my memory.
A few Days ago...
I reached for my phone and viewed the incoming text. It read simply, "Daddy, I need you!"
I leaped in my pickup and headed north. As I entered the city limits of my small community, I came to a screeching halt. A road construction project had traffic backed up as if I had entered the Los Angeles Freeway. I sat at a dead standstill for a few seconds, then swerved into the McDonalds parking lot, hitting a side street that would take me out of town. As I passed the north city limt sign, my eyes caught sight of a funeral procession ahead of me. My foot hit the brake as I turned the vehicle onto a county road. I gave the truck free rein as it sped toward the city forty miles away. The miles and the minutes seemed to tick by in slow motion as my mind raced. My eyes focused on a west Texas dust devil spinning through a cotton field up ahead, a common sight in this part of the country. The day was near perfect, not so hot for Texas in September, not a breeze, not a cloud in the sky. Yet this phenomena, a 'dust-nado' as the weatherman would call it, bounced haphazardly through the landscape, kicking up dust and swirling debris high into the sky, in effect disrupting a perfect late summer afternoon for anything or anyone caught in it's path as it spun out of control. I pondered the mystery and a thought stuck in my mind. As of late, my life has been good...near perfect as life can get, I suppose. With this unexpected text from my child, a dust devil has suddenly appeared, it's spiraling wind of change threatening someone so dear to my heart. My mind wondered if this unexpected 'dust-nado' would pass only briefly through her life, or would it leave a trail of destruction.
As I reached the outer edges of the city, I found myself at a crawl as a combination of more road construction and rush hour traffic hampered my progress. The dream from long ago passed through my mind and I bit my lip, wishing I had a four-wheeler in the bed of my truck. Finally, I pulled up in front of my daughter's house and made the few quick steps to her door. Seconds later, I held her in my arms as I whispered, with the reassurance that only a father can give, "I'm here..."
As we pass the twelvth anniversary of 9/11, our memory of that horrific event in New York city becomes dim in our minds. Sure, we will all take a moment sometime during the day to stop and remember. But let's not forget that there are tragedies and devastation in lives everyday. Every single minute of every single day someone experiences a life changing event...a dust devil that swoops down for nowhere completely unexpected...and changes a life forever.
When events of tragic proportions blow through your life, or the life of one you love, never forget there is Someone who stands ready to wrap His arms around you and whisper, with the reassurance that only a Father can give, "I'm here..." God is always just one prayer away from coming to get you through the dust devils that blow through your life.
I pressed the gas pedal to the floor as I passed the city limit sign, heading north. Along the highway burning Army jeeps, tanks, and transport trucks littered the landscape. I dodged the crators left by bombs dropped from aircraft only minutes earlier, trying to keep the pickup on the tattered roadway. The landscape around me was cluttered by countless fires and black smoke that plumed it's way into the darkened sky. I could see more bombs exploding ahead of me in the direction I was heading. My frantic mind tried to form some sort of plan of action...rather a reasonable reaction to what was occuring all around me as I sped toward my destination. The devastation seemed less intense as I reached open country and I clenched my teeth as determination to achieve my goal pushed me forward. As I neared the city some thirty minutes later, more destruction became evident...burning homes and barns, more destroyed Army vehicles...and the bombing. The deafening sounds seemed to shake the ground beneath my truck. When I reached a tiny suburb of the city, my eyes widened in horror. Thick smoke billowed through the air and the highway in front of me...disappeared. I swerved the vehicle into a ditch as my feet pressed the brake pedal to the floor. Before the truck came to a complete stop, I had leaped into the bed of the truck, shoving a four-wheeler out onto the ground with such force that only an over-dose of adrenaline could justify. I jumped onto the ATV and headed across country, dodging smouldering crators as enemy aircraft flew overhead. My destination: The buring city before me. My mission: To save my young daughter.
I awoke from the dream in a sweat, panting heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. It would prove to be the dream that never left my memory.
A few Days ago...
I reached for my phone and viewed the incoming text. It read simply, "Daddy, I need you!"
I leaped in my pickup and headed north. As I entered the city limits of my small community, I came to a screeching halt. A road construction project had traffic backed up as if I had entered the Los Angeles Freeway. I sat at a dead standstill for a few seconds, then swerved into the McDonalds parking lot, hitting a side street that would take me out of town. As I passed the north city limt sign, my eyes caught sight of a funeral procession ahead of me. My foot hit the brake as I turned the vehicle onto a county road. I gave the truck free rein as it sped toward the city forty miles away. The miles and the minutes seemed to tick by in slow motion as my mind raced. My eyes focused on a west Texas dust devil spinning through a cotton field up ahead, a common sight in this part of the country. The day was near perfect, not so hot for Texas in September, not a breeze, not a cloud in the sky. Yet this phenomena, a 'dust-nado' as the weatherman would call it, bounced haphazardly through the landscape, kicking up dust and swirling debris high into the sky, in effect disrupting a perfect late summer afternoon for anything or anyone caught in it's path as it spun out of control. I pondered the mystery and a thought stuck in my mind. As of late, my life has been good...near perfect as life can get, I suppose. With this unexpected text from my child, a dust devil has suddenly appeared, it's spiraling wind of change threatening someone so dear to my heart. My mind wondered if this unexpected 'dust-nado' would pass only briefly through her life, or would it leave a trail of destruction.
As I reached the outer edges of the city, I found myself at a crawl as a combination of more road construction and rush hour traffic hampered my progress. The dream from long ago passed through my mind and I bit my lip, wishing I had a four-wheeler in the bed of my truck. Finally, I pulled up in front of my daughter's house and made the few quick steps to her door. Seconds later, I held her in my arms as I whispered, with the reassurance that only a father can give, "I'm here..."
As we pass the twelvth anniversary of 9/11, our memory of that horrific event in New York city becomes dim in our minds. Sure, we will all take a moment sometime during the day to stop and remember. But let's not forget that there are tragedies and devastation in lives everyday. Every single minute of every single day someone experiences a life changing event...a dust devil that swoops down for nowhere completely unexpected...and changes a life forever.
When events of tragic proportions blow through your life, or the life of one you love, never forget there is Someone who stands ready to wrap His arms around you and whisper, with the reassurance that only a Father can give, "I'm here..." God is always just one prayer away from coming to get you through the dust devils that blow through your life.
August 18, 2013
The Prophet Princess
Those of you who've been hanging around me for any length of time know that if I'm anything at all...I'm a story teller. I've been blessed throughout my life with so many rich and exciting experiences, and try as I might, I just can't resist sharing them with just about anyone who will listen. It was during the course of good conversation with a friend the other night that I ventured into an era of my life that I've not shared with too many people...perhaps with good reason. Some may find the tales bordering on the edge of 'hard to believe.' Believe it or not... I'm going to share a snippet from my adventures with 'the Prophet Princess.'
I had met her online through a mutual friend and we connected through Facebook. Eventually we began talking on the phone and I found this woman to be intriguing to say the least. She claimed to be a prophet...a messenger from God. I took most of her conversations with a grain of salt even though I found myself always looking forward to the next conversation. There was just something about her...
A knock came on my door one December evening in 2010. My eyes grew wide as I stared at a beautiful woman who smiled warmly as I invited her inside. I recognized her immediately as she greeted me and offered in an almost apologetic tone of voice,
"I hope you don't mind me coming to visit." She paused and stared at me with the most amazing pale blue eyes I'd ever seen, then continued, "God has sent me to talk to you..."
Not being a religious man, per say, I was taken aback at her announcement. Nevertheless I invited her into my living room, my mind abounding with curiosity.
Before I could open my mouth with some nonsensical ice breaker, she uttered a name..a woman's name, and continued, "She's important to you."
I shrugged and lied, "She's just a friend, a good friend."
"No, you want her to be more. You find yourself struggling with your feelings for her."
I cautiously confessed that perhaps I indeed had a crush and a secret wish that this friendship would evolve into something more.
The self proclaimed prophet laid her hand on mine and looked into my eyes, "I see her in your past. I see her in your present. God has placed her in your life for a purpose. When she has fulfilled that purpose, she will no longer be there."
The prophet princess then began telling me of things that would come into my life...trials and turmoils, heartbreaks and life changing events that would challenge my very existance. She ventured into the realm of good and evil, angels and demons, and how she found herself caught up in the very heat of battle between the two forces. She talked of events yet to come that would change the way we live our lives. She talked into the wee hours of the morning...and I listened, spellbound.
As she rose to leave, she placed a hand on my shoulder and offered her sympathy for the friendship I was destined to lose with this special friend. I shrugged and stated,
"It seems that God has something else in store for me... something that He wants me to do before He allows my life to move forward."
The prophet smiled warmly, "God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
She then embraced me and a feeling of love that I'd never before experienced swept through my entire being. She then turned and was gone.
We continued to talk on the phone over the course of the next several months. As she had predicted, there were new and difficult challenges emerging in my life. She offered advice and always reminded me, "Ask God what His plan is..."
I received an urgent phone call from the prophet princess late in the night on March 10, 2011. She pleaded for me to pack a bag of essentials to tide me over for several days and keep it by the back door. She insisted that an earthquake of historic porportions would hit within twenty four hours and should it strike the United States, it would have a devastating effect on life as we know it. I did as I was told. It was the following morning that Japan was struck with a 9.0 magnitude earthquake...most of you remember the story.
The prophet princess and I lost contact soon after that. It seems the forces of evil forced her to disappear into the darkness without a goodbye. Whether she was all she claimed to be..I don't know. There was something... this I do know. At this point in my life, I choose to believe that God used her to get to me that night... prophet, angel, or just one mixed up hot chick... without a doubt, God used her as a compass point to set me in the right direction.
And so, I pass this along to you:
"God has sent me to talk to you. God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
I had met her online through a mutual friend and we connected through Facebook. Eventually we began talking on the phone and I found this woman to be intriguing to say the least. She claimed to be a prophet...a messenger from God. I took most of her conversations with a grain of salt even though I found myself always looking forward to the next conversation. There was just something about her...
A knock came on my door one December evening in 2010. My eyes grew wide as I stared at a beautiful woman who smiled warmly as I invited her inside. I recognized her immediately as she greeted me and offered in an almost apologetic tone of voice,
"I hope you don't mind me coming to visit." She paused and stared at me with the most amazing pale blue eyes I'd ever seen, then continued, "God has sent me to talk to you..."
Not being a religious man, per say, I was taken aback at her announcement. Nevertheless I invited her into my living room, my mind abounding with curiosity.
Before I could open my mouth with some nonsensical ice breaker, she uttered a name..a woman's name, and continued, "She's important to you."
I shrugged and lied, "She's just a friend, a good friend."
"No, you want her to be more. You find yourself struggling with your feelings for her."
I cautiously confessed that perhaps I indeed had a crush and a secret wish that this friendship would evolve into something more.
The self proclaimed prophet laid her hand on mine and looked into my eyes, "I see her in your past. I see her in your present. God has placed her in your life for a purpose. When she has fulfilled that purpose, she will no longer be there."
The prophet princess then began telling me of things that would come into my life...trials and turmoils, heartbreaks and life changing events that would challenge my very existance. She ventured into the realm of good and evil, angels and demons, and how she found herself caught up in the very heat of battle between the two forces. She talked of events yet to come that would change the way we live our lives. She talked into the wee hours of the morning...and I listened, spellbound.
As she rose to leave, she placed a hand on my shoulder and offered her sympathy for the friendship I was destined to lose with this special friend. I shrugged and stated,
"It seems that God has something else in store for me... something that He wants me to do before He allows my life to move forward."
The prophet smiled warmly, "God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
She then embraced me and a feeling of love that I'd never before experienced swept through my entire being. She then turned and was gone.
We continued to talk on the phone over the course of the next several months. As she had predicted, there were new and difficult challenges emerging in my life. She offered advice and always reminded me, "Ask God what His plan is..."
I received an urgent phone call from the prophet princess late in the night on March 10, 2011. She pleaded for me to pack a bag of essentials to tide me over for several days and keep it by the back door. She insisted that an earthquake of historic porportions would hit within twenty four hours and should it strike the United States, it would have a devastating effect on life as we know it. I did as I was told. It was the following morning that Japan was struck with a 9.0 magnitude earthquake...most of you remember the story.
The prophet princess and I lost contact soon after that. It seems the forces of evil forced her to disappear into the darkness without a goodbye. Whether she was all she claimed to be..I don't know. There was something... this I do know. At this point in my life, I choose to believe that God used her to get to me that night... prophet, angel, or just one mixed up hot chick... without a doubt, God used her as a compass point to set me in the right direction.
And so, I pass this along to you:
"God has sent me to talk to you. God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
August 3, 2013
'My Week On The Island'
"Whaddya say we run up to the mountains for a few days?"
She pursed her lips and pondered it for a moment then replied, "I say we go to the beach!"
"Alrighty, let's go to Galveston..."
"Nu-uh, I vote Padre Island."
I'll be the first to confess that every since her appearance on this planet, my daughter has always held the tie breaking vote...and so, last week the two of us set out on a very long trek across Texas in search of the ends of the earth.
There's a few things I discovered along the way. You know that chick inside your iPhone that tells you how to get there? Yeah, she had no more clue where Padre was than I did, which I discovered about half way to Ft. Worth which is NOT on the way to Padre. I also discovered that the best roads in Texas are NOT between here and there...and I was forced to admit to myself that a ten hour drive is not as easy as it use to be for this old goat. Nevertheless, we found our feet planted in the sand on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico just as the sun began sinking in the western sky that evening.
After sleeping in the next morning and enjoying a delicious complimentary breakfast offered by the hotel (some of you laughed at that joke) we made a long drive back into Corpus Christi to buy a boogie board that my daughter informed me was a must for the beach. By noon we had settled into our fold-out chairs on the shores of Padre Island. While my daughter ventured into the ocean, I slathered emormous amounts of SPF 50 Walmart brand sunscreen on the parts of my body that had not seen sun in decades. (Think farmer tan.) Once I was again comfortably settled into my official Texas flag chair-in-a-bag, I began doing what I enjoy doing most...peple watching! For the first hour I was consumed with admiring this year's swimwear designs modeled by the numerous scantily clad young women who had joined us on the sandy beach. As my interest waned in swimwear, I began observing the more common folks along the beach. I watched intently as a young man worked diligently burying his girlfriend in the sand, carefully covering her entire body until only her head was exposed. My attention turned to my other side, where a very large man kneeled in the sand, concentrating on the hole he was digging with a play shovel. He would periodically drop the shovel and run into the water to scoop up a bright pink bucket of salt water to pour into his hole. I glanced back at the couple and watched the boyfriend carefully shape huge sand boobs onto his buried girlfriend, pausing from time to time to gently kiss her as he toiled to complete his task. I'd then glance back to the man with his shovel, wondering if he expected children to happen along or if perhaps he was just a child in a grown-ups body who wished to dig in the sand. As the afternoon wore on, I observed families frolicking in the sand and the surf, young lovers falling even more in love, and pelicans plunging into the waves in search of dinner. I found myself in a peaceful state of mind...and found my mind wandering.
This is how it was meant to be...humans enjoying life to it's fullest...with not a care in the world. Living and loving life and loving each other. It dawned on me that we...the human race messed this up for ourselves, at least our ancestors did. God had intended for every day of our lives to be carefree, spent enjoying the wonders He created solely for our pleasure. He had meant for us to soak up the beauties of our world and in turn thank Him for such a tremendous gift. But...there was the tree of Forbidden Fruit...and it changed our lives. We were sentenced as a species to toil for our very survival...and only briefly throughout our lives would we be allowed to experience what I had the blessing to witness on this beach. What my eyes saw was a quality of life that some will never have the fortune to experience. As the sun set and we folded our chairs up and began our trek through the sand, I took care to store the memories of this day away for the future.
In the pre-dawn hours the following morning, a fourteen year old girl quietly dressed and slipped out of her hotel room, carefully shutting the door so as not to wake her sleeping father. She trotted across toward the beach to fulfill an item on her bucket list...a simple jog on the beach at sunrise. When she reached the shore, she paused and stared in amazement. Not one single soul but her was present to witness the breath taking moment of a sun rising above the still early morning tide. She reached for her phone and snapped a picture to capture the event...this was God's moment on the beach.
She pursed her lips and pondered it for a moment then replied, "I say we go to the beach!"
"Alrighty, let's go to Galveston..."
"Nu-uh, I vote Padre Island."
I'll be the first to confess that every since her appearance on this planet, my daughter has always held the tie breaking vote...and so, last week the two of us set out on a very long trek across Texas in search of the ends of the earth.
There's a few things I discovered along the way. You know that chick inside your iPhone that tells you how to get there? Yeah, she had no more clue where Padre was than I did, which I discovered about half way to Ft. Worth which is NOT on the way to Padre. I also discovered that the best roads in Texas are NOT between here and there...and I was forced to admit to myself that a ten hour drive is not as easy as it use to be for this old goat. Nevertheless, we found our feet planted in the sand on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico just as the sun began sinking in the western sky that evening.
After sleeping in the next morning and enjoying a delicious complimentary breakfast offered by the hotel (some of you laughed at that joke) we made a long drive back into Corpus Christi to buy a boogie board that my daughter informed me was a must for the beach. By noon we had settled into our fold-out chairs on the shores of Padre Island. While my daughter ventured into the ocean, I slathered emormous amounts of SPF 50 Walmart brand sunscreen on the parts of my body that had not seen sun in decades. (Think farmer tan.) Once I was again comfortably settled into my official Texas flag chair-in-a-bag, I began doing what I enjoy doing most...peple watching! For the first hour I was consumed with admiring this year's swimwear designs modeled by the numerous scantily clad young women who had joined us on the sandy beach. As my interest waned in swimwear, I began observing the more common folks along the beach. I watched intently as a young man worked diligently burying his girlfriend in the sand, carefully covering her entire body until only her head was exposed. My attention turned to my other side, where a very large man kneeled in the sand, concentrating on the hole he was digging with a play shovel. He would periodically drop the shovel and run into the water to scoop up a bright pink bucket of salt water to pour into his hole. I glanced back at the couple and watched the boyfriend carefully shape huge sand boobs onto his buried girlfriend, pausing from time to time to gently kiss her as he toiled to complete his task. I'd then glance back to the man with his shovel, wondering if he expected children to happen along or if perhaps he was just a child in a grown-ups body who wished to dig in the sand. As the afternoon wore on, I observed families frolicking in the sand and the surf, young lovers falling even more in love, and pelicans plunging into the waves in search of dinner. I found myself in a peaceful state of mind...and found my mind wandering.
This is how it was meant to be...humans enjoying life to it's fullest...with not a care in the world. Living and loving life and loving each other. It dawned on me that we...the human race messed this up for ourselves, at least our ancestors did. God had intended for every day of our lives to be carefree, spent enjoying the wonders He created solely for our pleasure. He had meant for us to soak up the beauties of our world and in turn thank Him for such a tremendous gift. But...there was the tree of Forbidden Fruit...and it changed our lives. We were sentenced as a species to toil for our very survival...and only briefly throughout our lives would we be allowed to experience what I had the blessing to witness on this beach. What my eyes saw was a quality of life that some will never have the fortune to experience. As the sun set and we folded our chairs up and began our trek through the sand, I took care to store the memories of this day away for the future.
In the pre-dawn hours the following morning, a fourteen year old girl quietly dressed and slipped out of her hotel room, carefully shutting the door so as not to wake her sleeping father. She trotted across toward the beach to fulfill an item on her bucket list...a simple jog on the beach at sunrise. When she reached the shore, she paused and stared in amazement. Not one single soul but her was present to witness the breath taking moment of a sun rising above the still early morning tide. She reached for her phone and snapped a picture to capture the event...this was God's moment on the beach.
July 21, 2013
'This Week We Look At Porn'
Whaddya mean, where's the pictures? No, we aren't going to look at porno pictures...we're going to talk about porn. Well, that got rid of most of you. I remember the very first time I caught a glimpse of a naked lady. Couldn't have been more than eight years old. I had carried an empty coke bottle the tenth of a mile to the feed store where they had a coke machine stocked with ice cold Coca Cola. I stepped inside and was greeted by the stares of numerous farmers gathered around a table playing dominoes, shyly ducked my head and scurried toward the coke box as I dug the dime my mom had given me out of my pocket. As I reached around the side of the box to place my empty bottle in the rack, my eyes caught sight of her...right there on the wall, wearing nothing but a smile. Yes boys and girls, Miss July was the very first woman who ever exposed herself to me. As you might guess, I became a dedicated coke drinker. Many of you don't remember a day when there was no internet, thus no internet porn. Us youngsters back in the day relied on National Geographic and the Sears and Roebuck catelog.
A few Sundays ago, the preacher touched on porn. He was on a roll preaching on various sexual sins when he hit on the topic. As the word 'porn' escaped his lips, I'd wager a full eighty percent of the men in the congregation shrunk to half their size, some even disappearing beneath the pews. A respectable number of women noticably shifted uneasily in their seats as well. Not me. I sat there staring directly at the pastor with a smile on my face...I'm single, you know. No, that isn't the only reason. I readily admit I have run across a few naughty pictures on the internet in the past, but I personally am not one to become infactuated with this obsession. Once I determined that it's all basically the same, and there wasn't nothing to learn that I hadn't already, I easily put that behind me. Sorta like golf...most everyone tries it at one time or another in their life...and most just don't see the point of it.
Back to the preacher...He continued, "Husbands, I have counciled your wives on this subject more than any other throughout my ministry, and if you could only understand the damage and devastation this causes in your marriage..." I might have dozed off momentarily because I'm single, you know. Then he caught my attention with this, "And wives..." He paused as if searching for the proper words, "You must understand that the male is a visual creature and..." He stopped in mid sentence, choosing not to continue. I knew exactly where he wanted to go...and no, I don't blame him for aborting the topic. As he uttered those words, my mind immediately flashed back to my ex-wife, an attractive woman. She left for work every morning looking her very best. But weekends...not so much. I can vividly see those horrid grey sweat pants, the holey faded red sweatshirt that were her attire every single weekend. Absolutely no makeup and her hair pulled onto the top of her head like a mop, waving from side to side as she shifted throughout the house. Her appearance was much like that of an old red hen...yes, a chicken. Sexy? She wasn't ringing my bell. I have to confess I was always a bit envious of her co-workers who had the pleasure of seeing her in a more appealing way. Yeah, I know...all the women are pissed off now, but hey, I might just accidently save a marriage.
What's so wrong with porn? Heck, what is the harm of prostitution, friends with benefits, and those creepy ads you just accidently run across in the personals section of Craig's List? Because folks, we are better than that. To lower our standards and our values to that level makes us inferior beings.
God made man and then woman with the intent for human companionship and love. He then gave an awesome gift to mankind, a genuine and bonding way to express love for each other. He gave us the ability to experience sexual pleasure as the ultimate expression of our love for our chosen mate. That was His plan. We chose to violate the plan. Out of all the sins mankind has dreamed up throughout history, our sexual sins have undoubtedly caused our God the most grief. In fact, it was the lust of sexual pleasure that forced God to destroy mankind at one point in time. That spell-binding story will be the topic of my next blog post. I'll bet most of you haven't heard the story the way I'm going to tell it!
A few Sundays ago, the preacher touched on porn. He was on a roll preaching on various sexual sins when he hit on the topic. As the word 'porn' escaped his lips, I'd wager a full eighty percent of the men in the congregation shrunk to half their size, some even disappearing beneath the pews. A respectable number of women noticably shifted uneasily in their seats as well. Not me. I sat there staring directly at the pastor with a smile on my face...I'm single, you know. No, that isn't the only reason. I readily admit I have run across a few naughty pictures on the internet in the past, but I personally am not one to become infactuated with this obsession. Once I determined that it's all basically the same, and there wasn't nothing to learn that I hadn't already, I easily put that behind me. Sorta like golf...most everyone tries it at one time or another in their life...and most just don't see the point of it.
Back to the preacher...He continued, "Husbands, I have counciled your wives on this subject more than any other throughout my ministry, and if you could only understand the damage and devastation this causes in your marriage..." I might have dozed off momentarily because I'm single, you know. Then he caught my attention with this, "And wives..." He paused as if searching for the proper words, "You must understand that the male is a visual creature and..." He stopped in mid sentence, choosing not to continue. I knew exactly where he wanted to go...and no, I don't blame him for aborting the topic. As he uttered those words, my mind immediately flashed back to my ex-wife, an attractive woman. She left for work every morning looking her very best. But weekends...not so much. I can vividly see those horrid grey sweat pants, the holey faded red sweatshirt that were her attire every single weekend. Absolutely no makeup and her hair pulled onto the top of her head like a mop, waving from side to side as she shifted throughout the house. Her appearance was much like that of an old red hen...yes, a chicken. Sexy? She wasn't ringing my bell. I have to confess I was always a bit envious of her co-workers who had the pleasure of seeing her in a more appealing way. Yeah, I know...all the women are pissed off now, but hey, I might just accidently save a marriage.
What's so wrong with porn? Heck, what is the harm of prostitution, friends with benefits, and those creepy ads you just accidently run across in the personals section of Craig's List? Because folks, we are better than that. To lower our standards and our values to that level makes us inferior beings.
God made man and then woman with the intent for human companionship and love. He then gave an awesome gift to mankind, a genuine and bonding way to express love for each other. He gave us the ability to experience sexual pleasure as the ultimate expression of our love for our chosen mate. That was His plan. We chose to violate the plan. Out of all the sins mankind has dreamed up throughout history, our sexual sins have undoubtedly caused our God the most grief. In fact, it was the lust of sexual pleasure that forced God to destroy mankind at one point in time. That spell-binding story will be the topic of my next blog post. I'll bet most of you haven't heard the story the way I'm going to tell it!
July 14, 2013
My Social Experiment - The Results Are In
Some of you may remember my story from a couple of weeks ago, where I revealed I had decided it was time to change things up a bit. I thought I'd catch you up on how this 'furry chin' look is working out for me. Keep in mind that in all my half a century (and a bit more) on this planet, I had never allowed myself to miss a single day of shaving. Recent weeks have been a real adjustment for me. I've always been a George Strait kind of guy...starched wranglers, a button down shirt, topped off with a black hat and a clean shaven face. This hairy growth on the bottom of my chin has all but driven me stark raving mad...but has it improved the quality of my life. Oh, HELL YES!
In recent days I have walked by woman after woman and have actually heard their hearts flutter! No, I didn't make that up. I've had to go into hiding on the dating site just to get some peace. I walked by a woman at church last Sunday who turned around and commented, "Hey, you're getting that Tim McGraw look."
"Really?" I exclaimed as my eyes grew wide.
"Umm, maybe not so much now that I look at it..."
This growth has reached a point that I now must iniate a plan to maintain it. I find myself at a total loss. I asked the two woman behind the counter at the court house as I renewed my pickup tags,
"What color is this?" pointing at my goatee.
"Uh, gray?" questioned one.
"What color should it be?"
"Gray?" she shrugged.
"No! It cannot be gray. Maybe blonde or brown...or black?"
The other woman rolled her eyes, "Oh no...do not dye your beard. I hate it when men do that. You'd look like Robert Downey Jr. with a black beard."
"Really?"
"Um, not so much probably."
Just between me and you, I went to Walmart and bought some of that beard dye today. What do chicks that work at a court house know about beards!
By now some of you are thinking, 'What a conceited, egotistical, vain old goat...' Not so true and not vain in the least. The beard thing has been my 'social experiment,' a study of human interaction. It has, to say the least, blown me away at the difference a few chin whiskers has made in my interactions not only with people I meet, but people I have known for years. Why the difference? I have no clue. A friend I've known for nearly twenty years remarked the other day,
"I like the goatee. It makes you look noble."
"Noble?" I replied, "I was going for sort of a 'bad boy' look."
"Well, yeah...maybe a little Chuck Norris going on there."
"Chuck Norris now or Chuck Norris twenty years ago?"
'Look man, we're both dudes and this conversation is making me uneasy."
Remember Julie, the waitress at the diner downtown who lost control of herself a few weeks ago at the sight of my new beard?
"I'll admit, it makes you look sexy, but I still don't like it."
She then scurried away before I caught the sound of her heart fluttering.
Maybe you should consider a social experiment of your own. Perhaps that haircut you're still sporting from high school isn't cutting it any more. And women, just because you a grandma now doesn't really mean you have to look the part. Nothing turns the head of this old cowboy quicker than a hot, sexy woman of age. I have learned from this experiment that, while it is indeed a lasting impression we strive to achieve, it is a first impression we must dangle as bait.
So, my next big experiment: I read an article on the internet that claims we've all been wasting our money on expensive wrinkle creams and skin enhancers. This story claims that the very best way to combat wrinkles is generous applications of sunscreen, not just any sunscreen...Walmart brand sunscreen! I discovered an up side and a down side to this. The good news is, you smell like a lifeguard all day...and we all know how chicks dig lifeguards. The downside: You look like you slathered bacon grease all over your face before you came to work. I'll let you know how it works out!
In recent days I have walked by woman after woman and have actually heard their hearts flutter! No, I didn't make that up. I've had to go into hiding on the dating site just to get some peace. I walked by a woman at church last Sunday who turned around and commented, "Hey, you're getting that Tim McGraw look."
"Really?" I exclaimed as my eyes grew wide.
"Umm, maybe not so much now that I look at it..."
This growth has reached a point that I now must iniate a plan to maintain it. I find myself at a total loss. I asked the two woman behind the counter at the court house as I renewed my pickup tags,
"What color is this?" pointing at my goatee.
"Uh, gray?" questioned one.
"What color should it be?"
"Gray?" she shrugged.
"No! It cannot be gray. Maybe blonde or brown...or black?"
The other woman rolled her eyes, "Oh no...do not dye your beard. I hate it when men do that. You'd look like Robert Downey Jr. with a black beard."
"Really?"
"Um, not so much probably."
Just between me and you, I went to Walmart and bought some of that beard dye today. What do chicks that work at a court house know about beards!
By now some of you are thinking, 'What a conceited, egotistical, vain old goat...' Not so true and not vain in the least. The beard thing has been my 'social experiment,' a study of human interaction. It has, to say the least, blown me away at the difference a few chin whiskers has made in my interactions not only with people I meet, but people I have known for years. Why the difference? I have no clue. A friend I've known for nearly twenty years remarked the other day,
"I like the goatee. It makes you look noble."
"Noble?" I replied, "I was going for sort of a 'bad boy' look."
"Well, yeah...maybe a little Chuck Norris going on there."
"Chuck Norris now or Chuck Norris twenty years ago?"
'Look man, we're both dudes and this conversation is making me uneasy."
Remember Julie, the waitress at the diner downtown who lost control of herself a few weeks ago at the sight of my new beard?
"I'll admit, it makes you look sexy, but I still don't like it."
She then scurried away before I caught the sound of her heart fluttering.
Maybe you should consider a social experiment of your own. Perhaps that haircut you're still sporting from high school isn't cutting it any more. And women, just because you a grandma now doesn't really mean you have to look the part. Nothing turns the head of this old cowboy quicker than a hot, sexy woman of age. I have learned from this experiment that, while it is indeed a lasting impression we strive to achieve, it is a first impression we must dangle as bait.
So, my next big experiment: I read an article on the internet that claims we've all been wasting our money on expensive wrinkle creams and skin enhancers. This story claims that the very best way to combat wrinkles is generous applications of sunscreen, not just any sunscreen...Walmart brand sunscreen! I discovered an up side and a down side to this. The good news is, you smell like a lifeguard all day...and we all know how chicks dig lifeguards. The downside: You look like you slathered bacon grease all over your face before you came to work. I'll let you know how it works out!
June 11, 2013
'The Day Elvis Died,' Excerpt from 'Nineteen Seventy Something'
Available on Amazon.com: http://ow.ly/lV75j
We pulled up in front of Diane Mullany's house around six. I followed Ed inside where I came face to face with the two Alabama boys who were fussing over which 8-track to play first. A tall, redheaded cowgirl stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. A few other people I didn't know mingled in a group. The redhead looked our way as Ed wandered toward the kitchen.
"Hi Ed..." she greeted him unenthusiastically.
Diane Mullany peeked around the corner and gave him the same flat greeting. It was immediately obvious that there was nothing sparking between the two. As Ed stepped out of the way, Diane's eyes focused on me and a grin spread across her face.
"Hieee Rusty! I haven't seen you in ages! I hear you're the big man in town all of a sudden."
I returned her smile and replied, "Hi Diane."
Ed added his two cents, "Yes, the citizens of Delight, Texas have appointed him their king!"
The cowgirl, who everyone simply called 'Red,' patted my shoulder as I stood beside the door to the kitchen watching Diane whipping up potato salad.
"I talked to Shannon O'Reilly on the phone the other day. She said if I see you to tell you 'hi.' So...Hi from Shannon!" Red locked eyes with me as she brushed her long hair out of her face with a hand.
"So how is Shannon doing?" I asked eagerly.
"She's married...and she's expecting a baby! She's so excited!"
Memories of that Saturday she had knocked on my door swept through my mind, "How far along is she?"
"She thinks about four months. Said she's got a good belly on her."
I quickly counted back four months...that'd be about right. I shook it off, rationalizing that perhaps Shannon had had more unfinished business with more guys. That would let me off the hook. Besides, she was married...and not to me. That should prove something.
A man with very frizzy hair and eyes that went wild like Monte Python's stepped through the back door with a plate of meat in his hand.
"Steaks are done. Let's eat!"
We all piled up in the living room and gorged ourselves on steak and the usual sides. Colt, one of the Alabama boys, caught me staring his direction in between bites and shot me a grin.
"So where the hell did you run off to, Rusty? One minute you're there at the Crawford with us and the next thing we knew you were gone."
I hesitated before replying, "Just had places to go and people to see..."
Not a soul had I told about the weekend in that jail in Oklahoma. As far as I was concerned, nobody needed to know...ever.
Diane stood up with her empty plate and headed to the kitchen. She paused to turn on the radio on her way back into the living room. The voice of Elvis Presley filled the room singing 'My Way.'
"Hmmm, that's kinda odd," Diane commented, "That redio station never plays Elvis."
The song ended and the DJ came on, "In memory of the King. For those of you who haven't heard, Elvis Presley died today."
Everybody in the room instantly grew quiet. Elvis had always been there. I had seen him the first time he appeared on the Ed Sullivan show when I was six years old. Our parents had vehemently denounced his music as evil and destined to destroy the moral values of America. The younger generation had looked up to him as he changed the face of music as the world knew it. Now he was dead.
The girls hugged each other and cried, then Diane looked across the room, and walking past everybody else sitting there, came straight for me. She curled her body in my lap and sobbed on my shoulder as I panicked inside. Why, out of all the laps in that room, was this girl in mine. The day was August 16, 1977...the day Elvis died and Diane Mullany sat in my lap...it would be a day to remember.
Get the book here: http://ow.ly/lV75j
We pulled up in front of Diane Mullany's house around six. I followed Ed inside where I came face to face with the two Alabama boys who were fussing over which 8-track to play first. A tall, redheaded cowgirl stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. A few other people I didn't know mingled in a group. The redhead looked our way as Ed wandered toward the kitchen.
"Hi Ed..." she greeted him unenthusiastically.
Diane Mullany peeked around the corner and gave him the same flat greeting. It was immediately obvious that there was nothing sparking between the two. As Ed stepped out of the way, Diane's eyes focused on me and a grin spread across her face.
"Hieee Rusty! I haven't seen you in ages! I hear you're the big man in town all of a sudden."
I returned her smile and replied, "Hi Diane."
Ed added his two cents, "Yes, the citizens of Delight, Texas have appointed him their king!"
The cowgirl, who everyone simply called 'Red,' patted my shoulder as I stood beside the door to the kitchen watching Diane whipping up potato salad.
"I talked to Shannon O'Reilly on the phone the other day. She said if I see you to tell you 'hi.' So...Hi from Shannon!" Red locked eyes with me as she brushed her long hair out of her face with a hand.
"So how is Shannon doing?" I asked eagerly.
"She's married...and she's expecting a baby! She's so excited!"
Memories of that Saturday she had knocked on my door swept through my mind, "How far along is she?"
"She thinks about four months. Said she's got a good belly on her."
I quickly counted back four months...that'd be about right. I shook it off, rationalizing that perhaps Shannon had had more unfinished business with more guys. That would let me off the hook. Besides, she was married...and not to me. That should prove something.
A man with very frizzy hair and eyes that went wild like Monte Python's stepped through the back door with a plate of meat in his hand.
"Steaks are done. Let's eat!"
We all piled up in the living room and gorged ourselves on steak and the usual sides. Colt, one of the Alabama boys, caught me staring his direction in between bites and shot me a grin.
"So where the hell did you run off to, Rusty? One minute you're there at the Crawford with us and the next thing we knew you were gone."
I hesitated before replying, "Just had places to go and people to see..."
Not a soul had I told about the weekend in that jail in Oklahoma. As far as I was concerned, nobody needed to know...ever.
Diane stood up with her empty plate and headed to the kitchen. She paused to turn on the radio on her way back into the living room. The voice of Elvis Presley filled the room singing 'My Way.'
"Hmmm, that's kinda odd," Diane commented, "That redio station never plays Elvis."
The song ended and the DJ came on, "In memory of the King. For those of you who haven't heard, Elvis Presley died today."
Everybody in the room instantly grew quiet. Elvis had always been there. I had seen him the first time he appeared on the Ed Sullivan show when I was six years old. Our parents had vehemently denounced his music as evil and destined to destroy the moral values of America. The younger generation had looked up to him as he changed the face of music as the world knew it. Now he was dead.
The girls hugged each other and cried, then Diane looked across the room, and walking past everybody else sitting there, came straight for me. She curled her body in my lap and sobbed on my shoulder as I panicked inside. Why, out of all the laps in that room, was this girl in mine. The day was August 16, 1977...the day Elvis died and Diane Mullany sat in my lap...it would be a day to remember.
Get the book here: http://ow.ly/lV75j
May 6, 2013
'We Need To Have A Talk About Your Parents'
You and I need to have a talk about...your parents. That's right, the very people who brought you into this world, changed your diaper, taught you how to ride a bike. Those folks who helped you with your homework, grounded you more times than you can count...will come to depend on you at some point in time. I've seen it coming for several years. The old man's health has steadily been slipping away, and suddenly without warning, one day he just couldn't get up anymore.
Ah, the miracles of modern science...doctors can keep us alive all the way to the century mark, but they haven't figured out how to keep our bodies from wearing out in the process. Over the last decade or so, we humans have taken the challenge to live for eternity so seriously. We exercise, we diet, we don't partake of tobacco and curse those who do. We take enormous quantities of prescription medications, and then take more to offset the side effects of the first round of pills. Yet, in the end, we are left worn out and exhausted, laying in a hospital bed peeing on ourselves...dying of NOTHING. And what do we do then?
My parents, like the rest of the seniors throughout the United States, have been so caught up in the fervor to do whatever it takes to live forever that they apparently never stopped and considered the alternative. That's where I come in. A month's stay in a physical therapy center failed to show any results and that's when the insurance company said, "Enough...no more money." Panic set in...that's when I got the call. "What are we going to do?" It was at that exact moment that I became fully aware that neither of my parents had ever considered the possibility...they had never played the 'What If' game.
This is where you come in. No matter how old or not your parents are, now is a good time to set them down and say, "We need to have a talk..." Remember how they use to MAKE you do your homework? Yeah, now it's payback time. It's time to make them start making plans for their future...the future nobody wants to think about. Let me tell you girls and squirrels, there will come a time when it falls on you ...especially if you don't make your parents start making plans for that day NOW.
We don't live forever...and most of us don't just fall over dead one day. We fall apart piece by piece year after year, until one day all there is left in this life is to die. God never promised us an easy life, or a life without sickness, disease, or pain. He never promised us we'd stay young, vibrant,and healthy into our eighties. The one thing He does promise us is that he will be there waiting for us at the end, as long as we have taken the required steps to leave this world behind someday and share eternity with Him. This notion that we will never grow old and feeble, indeed in fact unable to care for ourselves is nothing more than a chimera. There must be a game plan!
Most of us don't have to read it in the Bible (it's in there) to know it's our duty as children to care for our parents. Perhaps we should see it as a privilige...sort of a repayment for the sacrifices they endured to see us to adulthood and in some cases, even beyond. This doesn't have to come hard nor does it have to grab us by surprise. Together, as a family, plans should be made, agreements reached, and wishes honored, long before the time comes when your parents can no longer function on their own. Plans made years, even decades in advance can ensure peace of mind in both parent and child. The first step is to realize that none of us will live forever, not here on this earth. Might be something worth including in that talk you'll be having with your folks...If (when) we get separated along the way, where should we meet up? Heaven sounds like a good place!
Ah, the miracles of modern science...doctors can keep us alive all the way to the century mark, but they haven't figured out how to keep our bodies from wearing out in the process. Over the last decade or so, we humans have taken the challenge to live for eternity so seriously. We exercise, we diet, we don't partake of tobacco and curse those who do. We take enormous quantities of prescription medications, and then take more to offset the side effects of the first round of pills. Yet, in the end, we are left worn out and exhausted, laying in a hospital bed peeing on ourselves...dying of NOTHING. And what do we do then?
My parents, like the rest of the seniors throughout the United States, have been so caught up in the fervor to do whatever it takes to live forever that they apparently never stopped and considered the alternative. That's where I come in. A month's stay in a physical therapy center failed to show any results and that's when the insurance company said, "Enough...no more money." Panic set in...that's when I got the call. "What are we going to do?" It was at that exact moment that I became fully aware that neither of my parents had ever considered the possibility...they had never played the 'What If' game.
This is where you come in. No matter how old or not your parents are, now is a good time to set them down and say, "We need to have a talk..." Remember how they use to MAKE you do your homework? Yeah, now it's payback time. It's time to make them start making plans for their future...the future nobody wants to think about. Let me tell you girls and squirrels, there will come a time when it falls on you ...especially if you don't make your parents start making plans for that day NOW.
We don't live forever...and most of us don't just fall over dead one day. We fall apart piece by piece year after year, until one day all there is left in this life is to die. God never promised us an easy life, or a life without sickness, disease, or pain. He never promised us we'd stay young, vibrant,and healthy into our eighties. The one thing He does promise us is that he will be there waiting for us at the end, as long as we have taken the required steps to leave this world behind someday and share eternity with Him. This notion that we will never grow old and feeble, indeed in fact unable to care for ourselves is nothing more than a chimera. There must be a game plan!
Most of us don't have to read it in the Bible (it's in there) to know it's our duty as children to care for our parents. Perhaps we should see it as a privilige...sort of a repayment for the sacrifices they endured to see us to adulthood and in some cases, even beyond. This doesn't have to come hard nor does it have to grab us by surprise. Together, as a family, plans should be made, agreements reached, and wishes honored, long before the time comes when your parents can no longer function on their own. Plans made years, even decades in advance can ensure peace of mind in both parent and child. The first step is to realize that none of us will live forever, not here on this earth. Might be something worth including in that talk you'll be having with your folks...If (when) we get separated along the way, where should we meet up? Heaven sounds like a good place!
