Bless Your Heart

This past February marked 40 years that I have lived and worked in Atlanta, Georgia. Michelle and I moved here from Akron, Ohio in 1984 to seek our fame and fortune, or escape another Ohio winter, or both, it was a long time ago and my brain doesn’t always fire on full blast, and it makes it hard to remember sometimes. But we obviously liked it and decided to make it our new home.

It was a significant culture change for us in so many ways. We moved from the north to the south, we left a city of 300,000 and started over in a city that at the time was about 1.5 million people. The population is now closer to 7.5 million. Akron was on a downward trend and Atlanta was booming. Most everyone we knew in Ohio had been there their entire lives as well as their families. Most had lived on the same street and in the same house for as long as anyone could remember. Most of the people we met and started doing life with, in Atlanta, were from somewhere else in the country. It was very interesting to see the differences in folks and to hear stories that were a lot different than mine.

Prior to moving away from the Rubber City, my exposure to the southern United States was what we saw on television. Most of the shows would put southerners in an “iffy” way. Slow, barefoot, talked funny, etc. The typical stereotypes. I was looking for Boss Hog and the General Lee to come zooming around the corner. I was also shocked to find out that my new friends below the Mason-Dixon had some interesting thoughts and stereotypes of northerners as well. We each had a felt false superiority over the other which was actually hilarious to experience.

After being here for just a short period of time I soon realized that maybe it was ME that was the hayseed and not the other way around. When I first hit Peachtree Street in my Chevy Chevette and started getting past by more Mercedes Benz and BMW’s than I had ever seen. Back then foreign cars in Ohio were not looked on favorably when a lot of the people we knew counted on domestic cars for their livelihoods. Not many I knew could afford cars of that nature either. I quickly realized that I was not in Kansas anymore Toto and that my new home was a very big and busy city with tons to explore. Don’t misunderstand, there is a reason there are stereotypes and Atlanta has its share of some “true southerners.”

One way NOT to make new friends was to offer this tidbit, “Back in (insert northern city here) we did it differently than “you guys” do down here.” “Let’s do it my way, what do you think? The response generally said back to us was, “Delta is ready when you are Yankee!” It was the first time I had ever been called a Yankee. Being from Ohio, I always thought people up in the northeast (New York, Boston) were “Yankees.” I also learned that I had an accent. I would try and correct them and let them know that THEY had an accent, not me. However, I found out quickly that they could judge pretty quickly what part of the Midwest I was from by my “funny way of talking.”

One of the more challenging and interesting adjustments to my new world was picking up southern slang and jargon. For example, I was getting gas for the car one night and the attendant saw me trying to figure out how to get the pump going and called out to me through the speaker, “Mash the Cash Button!” Well, the only thing I had ever mashed in my life up until then was potatoes. It took me a few more times of her yelling at me to figure out that I needed to PUSH the cash button on the pump. Then of course there is the many different derivatives of You (Y’all, All Y’all, Your Mom and Them, etc.). There was also getting used to calling things something completely different to what we called it “back home,” including calling any soft drink (pop) a “Coke”, a grocery cart was now a “buggy.” If you were thinking about doing something tomorrow, you were now “fixing” to do something tomorrow. The one I have had the most trouble dealing with has been “might could.” “I might could swing by tomorrow and mow your grass for your mom and them if you’re fixing to be home.” It was like a knife to the small of my back and cringeworthy. But after forty years they have converted me to a “Damn Yankee” which is someone who moved here from the north and never left. Don’t get it twisted though, Atlanta is an amazing place to live and there is a bunch to do which is why the population continues to soar.

Another tough one for me was also being expected to call another grown man, Bubba. I can’t and don’t to this day. I met this one fella that was the father of some of the kids my girls swam with on a local team. His name was Tom but, he asked for me to call him Bubba. I said, “Tom, I know that you like to be called Bubba, but I just can’t do it sir. So, I became the Damn Yankee that calls me Tom.

Another thing you have to get hip to is, the kind way people may be treating you when they are actually insulting you with their southern charm. The title of the blog today is one of those ways. If some nice southern belle looks at you and says, “well bless your heart”, you have just been insulted and called an idiot. You may think “how nice, she really cares about me.” You would be wrong. It is akin to being told in the north that “you are a special kind of stupid” but with a charming tone of voice and a smile, but they still think you’re an idiot.

Today’s blog will be one of those times for me when the sweetest little old ladies smiled and said to me, “Bless Your Heart” and then turned around and laughed at me with her friends and all the time I was thinking they were so nice and really liked the Rutmachine.

But First…A Joke:

A man woke up after a risky procedure. He shook the doctor’s hand in gratitude and said, “I wouldn’t want to insult you by offering you money. But I would like you to know that I’ve added you to my will.” That’s very kind of you,” said the doctor. “Can I see that prescription I just gave you? I need to make a little change.”

Bonus Dad Joke:

A book fell on my head. I only have my shelf to blame.

A Verse to Contemplate:

If anyone says, “I love God”, yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother. I John 4:20-21

Have I Told You This One?

For starters, I wish I could say that this was the one and only time that anyone has said “Bless Your Heart” to me, but I would be lying. However, this one is a pretty good one if I do say so myself. This little firecracker of a lady will be in my memory banks for the rest of my life (hopefully)!

When I was an elder of a church in Roswell, Georgia one of the former elders approached me and asked if I would be interested in “preaching” on a rotation basis with some other guys from church for a nursing home that was close to the church. These elderly men and woman couldn’t get out to attend church, so the idea was to bring church to them. I felt honored to be asked and I was inserted in the rotation with a few guys to where I was speaking to the group once or twice a month. For those who knew me when I was a kid, you did hear that correctly, Mark Rutledge was asked to preach to a group of people. Miracles happen every day my friends.

My first time to lead the service approaches fast and the actual thought of doing it started to make me a little nervous. I’ve never been afraid of getting up and speaking to groups of people but for some reason this one was making the butterflies in my gut a little stronger. Sunday arrives and after church I drive to the nursing home and meet with the management, and they lead Michelle and I to this small room where the “sermon” will take place. I look over my notes one last time and then the folks start to wheel themselves into the room. They park their walkers in a corner of the room and sit down in the back row. Even in this no one wants to sit up front!

Michelle and I are the youth movement of the day, and these precious souls come in and take a seat. There was probably a dozen for my first time. I can’t tell you why, but I am now starting to sweat like crazy and I’m more nervous than I have ever been in front of a group. As they file in, I’m trying to introduce myself and find out their names and just make small talk.

I calm myself as I start with an opening prayer and play a few hymns on a portable boombox I brought in. I start to feel better about things, and I give a quick glance at Michelle, and she gives me a nod that says, “You’ve got this, it will be just fine, go get em’! After the songs finish, I make a fatal mistake. Instead of just going into my presentation, I think it is a good idea to ask a few questions. After each question they look at me like they didn’t hear me, or they just want me to get on with it. I feel like I have to fill the room with noise instead of just letting it be silent and I ask (wait for it), “This is a real nice place (it was), Do you guys like living here?” As soon as it left my mouth I wish I had a human redo button to bring the words back. Let’s see Rev, do we like not being able to live in our own homes but instead live in a nursing home? Is that the question you are asking…seriously?! I swear it was like I walked into a room full of cats. You could hear a pin drop. I take another quick glance at Michelle and this time she has a look on her face like, WHAT?

I am just about to chalk it up to opening day nerves and this one lady in the back who I thought was asleep or bored to death, spoke out and said in a booming voice, “What did he say?” The lady next her said, “He wants to know if we like living here.” The first lady looks at her friend and then to me and says, “Bless Your Heart!”

I think to myself, well that was nice of her and everyone else was laughing rather loudly. I shrug my shoulders and go on with my presentation. Once it ends, I thank everyone for coming and Michelle and I head out to the car. Once in the car, I asked her how she thought it went and she starts laughing (by the way, NOT the response I was hoping for). “Why are you laughing?” She then begins to explain to me what “Bless Your Heart” really means and I eventually laughed it off (eventually!). That little four foot nothing firecracker got me good. I will let you know that I learned from my mistakes and never asked that question ever again.

So, if you ever are in the south having a lovely conversation with some southern folks and they drop a Bless Your Heart, just know that you have been warned.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I don’t want to be a fool, deceiving myself to believe I know what’s best for me. Reveal Your ways to me and give me the courage to follow wherever You lead.

Book Recommendation:

Finishing Strong (Going the Distance for Your Family) by Steve Farrar (1995)

Music Recommendation:

Second Nature by Flying Colors (2014)

Quote of the Day:

“Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.” - Nicole Krauss

Tell Me A Story Grampy

Growing up in the 1960s and 1970s in the Rubber City was an interesting time for me. The more I look back on it, the more I am amazed of all the things I lived through and of the number of things that I was innocently unaware of that was going on around me. Being a kid seemed like so much fun for the most part. Be home when the streetlights kick on. Other than that, it seemed like I had total autonomy to get outside and be a kid.

I don’t remember worrying about bills, who the president was (or was going to be), being late for anything, having enough food and clothes, what time to get up, fixing my food, what kind of education was important, health insurance, dental insurance, taking medicine for anything. You get the drift. Mom and Dad were responsible for all of that. Mom would ask nice, and Dad would be the heavy when necessary to get us moving.

I instead got to concentrate on my bike, the cute girl up the street, where the game was and what time I had to be there, bringing home good grades, staying out of trouble (oops), hanging with my buddies, going to church on Sunday, and listening for the ice cream truck coming down the street. Not bad really.

Mom and Dad were big on doing things as a family so we hung out with our cousins, friends, other relatives, and our parent’s work friends or fishing buddies. Every once in a while, and definitely around the holidays we spent time visiting with the grandparents. When I was that young, everyone seemed to be 150 years old, wore outdated clothes, and talked about things I could care less about. I remember a lot of sitting around and listening to reports from recent doctor visits, surgeries, and the like.

Even with all of that, I did not know my two grandfathers well at all. I knew them better than my brother and sister but not intimately. Neither of them seemed to like the things I liked so it was hard to get a conversation going. As the oldest I was expected to make my parents proud by being able to carry on conversations with adults (when THEY wanted to speak to me) and to be polite and respectful. I think I did that, but my competition (my younger brother and much younger sister) was more than happy to let “big brother” carry the ball.

Over time I actually started to really enjoy hearing their stories of life before my time. They were hard working men that had to work a LOT back in those days and like a lot of other guys their age, they liked to drink just as hard once work was over. Ours was not a Norman Rockwell family for sure. Both of my grandfathers were alcoholics which meant I rarely saw them and when I did it was not “Hey, Mark come sit with Grampy and let me tell you a story.” It was usually being semi forced to give them a hug and getting scratched by their beard stubble and catching a whiff of whatever they were drinking.

Grandpa Rutledge passed at 51 when I was 12 from cancer. I know the least about him. Whenever we did go to visit them, or they came to our house he would sit around for a half hour or so and then it was off to the nearest bar. I went sometimes and drank about a case of Orange Crush until the men talked about how hard life was, I guess. I didn’t go much because it was boring, smelly and loud. His was the first funeral I went to, and I remember how sad everyone was at the funeral home.

My Grandpa Fordham lived out in the country in the suburbs, and he was generally a mean, miserable person especially when he drank. He smoked nonfiltered Pall Malls to the tune of about five to six packs a day. He passed in his seventies when I was 30. I wanted a relationship with him badly when I was in high school and stayed with him one summer and helped him do a lot of things around his house. I even got him to come to one of my football games but as was typical, once the booze kicked in, he would turn into a person no one wanted to be around. I came home once after I had moved away, and Mom talked me into going out to visit him. Let’s just say it ended poorly as he didn’t know who I was and spent most of the time cussing me and my family. I left and told him the next time that I see him he will be in a coffin. I kept my word.

When I started dating Michelle, I got to meet her grandfathers, and these guys were Norman Rockwell-like grampies. I sort of adopted them both and they welcomed me into their families over time and treated me like one of the grandkids with the exception of warning me if I messed with Michelle, they knew of a lot of places to bury a body where no one would find me. I believed them.

I enjoyed my time with them, and I miss them but they both filled a giant hole in my life and the I was determined to be a good grandfather if I ever got the chance. Today’s blog will be about the first time I actually did hear, “Tell Me A Story Grampy” and how it was a highlight in my life.

But First…A Joke:

Four people are headed to Hawaii on a plane: a pilot, a lawyer, a pastor, and a kid. Suddenly, the plane starts shaking and begins to go down. Searching around the cabin, they find only three parachutes. “I have a family, and a daughter who is expecting!” says the pilot. Before anyone can stop him, he grabs a parachute and jumps off the plane. The lawyer says, “Well, I’m the smartest man on earth, so I deserve to live!” He also grabs a parachute and jumps off. Now there’s only one parachute left. The pastor notices this and tells the kid, “Son, go ahead and take this last one. I have lived me life.” The boy looks around the plane. “Wait, we both can live!” “How?” the pastor asks. “Because the smartest man in the world just jumped out with my backpack.”

Bonus Dad Joke:

A young boy was lost in the mall. He ran over to a police officer. “I’ve lost my dad!” he said. “What’s he like?” the cop asked. “Baseball and beer.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, unloving, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them. - 2 Timothy 3: 1-5

Have I Told You This One?

Michelle and I were married in August of 1982 in Akron, Ohio on a very hot day at the Akron Baptist Temple. It was a blur of a day and before I knew it, we were taking pictures and heading to the reception hall to celebrate. At the same time, Grandpa Sawyer (Michelle’s Dad’s father) had recently become a widower of his long-time wife who suffered from end stage renal failure. I admired him as he devoted his life to taking care of her, waiting on her, driving her to doctor’s appointments and the dialysis center for treatments. He was always upbeat around others and would talk so charmingly about his bride. He would tell her how beautiful she was, and I believed it. She passed right before our wedding, and he had to come up from Florida alone to celebrate with us.

Everyone could tell that he was really grieving hard and that he really missed her. Being there without her was tearing him up but he put on a brave face and got through it. I’m 22 and pretty clueless then but as I look back on it now, it sure hits hard. I remember talking to him as he was getting ready to leave. He gave my hand a firm shake, and I felt something, it was a $50 bill. I told him that it wasn’t necessary, and he laughed at me and said, “Trust me, you’ll need it!” As he left the hall, I could see his shoulders shaking from crying and it left a permanent groove in my brain. I really loved that guy, and I was so sorry I couldn’t make him feel better. I secretly hoped that I could love Michelle as much as he loved his late wife.

Fast forward about 35 years or so and I find out that I am going to be a grandfather. At the time, I was taken aback and wasn’t sure I was ready. Aren’t grandparents 150 years old and wear outdated clothes? That’s not Me…Right?! When Preston was born, I couldn’t have been happier and prouder! Then Micah was born, then Rowan and God willing, Helena Michelle will be here in 2025.

I really, really, really, really love being their “Grampy” (the name Preston gave me). It’s like an entire new life and opportunity to have an impact on a new generation and I live for that stuff. It is my secret sauce that invigorates me. Watching them run toward me with their arms out and calling my name is heaven on earth. Handing them back when they smell funny is the fruit of years of being Dad.

They all like to hear stories and they certainly picked a good fella for that. I remember the first time each of them has struggled up the couch to sit next to me and say “Tell Me A Story Grampy” I love it, and after the 48th time reading the same story, I start to adlib parts of the story to see if they are paying attention or maybe skip a few pages, but it never seems to work. I love their innocence and dread the day when they lose it like I lost mine and you lost yours. When I sit around and tell them about my latest doctor’s appointment or discuss who the next president should be or why the Tribe can’t ever win the World Series (side note: I don’t dare tell them about the Browns!).

One of the things I want to say one day to them is “I’m so sorry.” They will say, “What for Grampy?” and I will have to say for leaving you such a banged-up world to live in. I truly wish we could have managed it better, but one thing remains, and that God is in control and He knows how the story will end. On the day, I get to tell them this story, it will go something like this:

“A person who comes to Christ in confession and repentance does not condemn others who hold different beliefs. Condemnation is for cowards, not for Christ followers. There is no condemnation in Christ Jesus (Romans 8). An individual “in Christ” has new weapons in the arsenal of faith. Hate has been replaced by love. Violence has been replaced by peace. Death has been replaced by life. Retaliation has been replaced by forgiveness. Heaven’s call is for the followers of Christ to rise up in a powerful proclamation of prayer. We are the body of Christ. When one member of the body suffers, the entire body suffers.” Following “leaders” like the ones we are being forced to embrace is a losing battle. They have no clue in how to bring people together. They (and Satan) only want division and to hear their opinions coming out of your mouth. Think for yourself through the grid of the Bible and pray for those that are struggling. The world is watching, Shock the World!

Grampy loves you.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, help me to see waiting on You as an opportunity to trust and grow in You. I want to learn and be patient in Your power as I wait while You are working. I am so inpatient and find it hard to trust. Give me Your strength because I prove every day that it is not within me.

Book Recommendation:

Becoming A King (The Path to Restoring the Heart of a Man) by Morgan Snyder (2021)

Music Recommendation:

The Cars by The Cars (1978)

Quote of the Day:

“One of the lessons of history is that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever thing to say.” —Will Durant

A Tire Town Burger Love Story

Happy Labor Day 2024! I’m not positive that we are supposed to wish each other a Happy Labor Day but what the heck, what can it hurt? According to my research Labor Day was established in 1882. I’m guessing that the idea of giving workers a day off in 1882 took some convincing by the leaders of the day. I’m also curious if they took the day off and had a picnic and put some burgers on the grill. Which raised yet another question, who invented the hamburger?

Again, according to my research (I want you to know that I did extensive Wikipedia research that took minutes to perform), the first hamburg sandwich in the U.S. was traced to Frank and Charles Menches in 1885 in Canton, Ohio. September 18, 1885, at the Erie County Fair to be exact. The invention was thought to be a byproduct of the immigration of people from Europe (Hamburg, Germany?) to the U.S. and the industrial revolution that made grinding meat into patties much easier with the development of the meat grinder. This allowed more working-class folks to be able to afford meat in their diets. So, it is possible that the newly introduced Labor Day festivities may have included hamburgers, especially in my old stomping grounds of northeast Ohio.

Many other cities around that time try and stake claim to inventing the hamburger and I have no idea how anyone can lay claim to that but since I was born and raised in northeast Ohio, the Menches brother get my vote and as we know, that is all that really matters in this blog anyway.

It sort of reminds me of cities that claim to be the “most haunted.” And for $50 they will drive you around their fair city at night and tell you scary stories as they go past a cemetery. For an extra $10 they will have Crack Head Larry hide in the bushes and yell “BOO!” when you come by at just the right time. But I digress.

The story I read states that the aforementioned Menches brothers were at the Erie County Fair and ran out of the pork products they were selling and, in a panic, looked around and discovered that they had some ground meat and decided to put it on the grill and slapped it between a couple pieces of bread and Yahtzee, the hamburger was born. A little more digging and I found out that quick service food followed several years later as White Castle opened in the 1920’s and McDonalds in the 1940’s.

When I was growing up in Akron, Ohio (“Tire Town”), we had a LOT of great hamburger restaurants as my memory serves. I was fortunate that my dad loved those places, and we could just be driving around and the next thing you know, we are parked in front of one of them. We would roll up in the family truckster and place our order and they would bring it right out to the car. Dad will specifically warn ME not to spill anything on the car seats just seconds before dumping my Coke or the ketchup. I know that this memory will not mean much to those that read this unless you grew up in Tire Town, but I remember so many back then. Some remain but many do not. There was Swensons, Sky Way, the Corral, PoGo’s, Spotless Spot, The Bun, Louies in North Hill, the Circle, Dilly’s, and many more I’m sure I missed. We rarely went to a national chain because they could not stand up to the local haunts.

My favorite was a little stand on East Market Street that went by the name “Thacker’s.” Mr. Marvin “Pop” Thacker opened this oasis of heavenly goodness in 1920 (sound familiar?). It was originally called “Peppy Service Lunch” until they changed the name for good to Thacker’s. They served a small hamburger (think today’s sliders) that only came one way, onions, pickle and mustard with a toothpick to hold it together. This flat grill was in front of a picture window and I don’t believe they ever closed during the hay days of the tire factories. They had some seats at the counter and a few tables but that was it. This cathedral of happiness stayed open for 60 years closing in 1980. The building was right next to the Goodyear World Headquarters and Plants 1 and 2 (before they moved to Seiberling Street) and couldn’t have been more than 1,000 square feet. I remember it being packed 24/7 and when I was a kid, they cost $.025 a piece (They were $0.05 when they opened). If you remember the “Cheesebugga, Cheesbugga” skit on Saturday Night Live in the 1970s, this HAD to be the place they were trying to recreate. “No Coke…Pepsi”. If you look up Greasy Spoon in the dictionary you will find a picture of this place and it is well-deserved.

The secret to this place was said to be the “secret grease” that was used, and Pop was the only one who knew the recipe. Similar to the famous Coke formula, it was well-protected. The reason they didn’t serve ketchup was that it did not go well with the grease and made the hamburgers taste different. So not until the 1970s did they even have ketchup at the stand. Their marketing slogan was “Buy a Sack Full.” When you did, they put them in a plain brown lunch bag and the trick was getting home before the grease went through the bottom of the sack.

There was a man that worked in the restaurant for decades that took over once Pop died and started a restaurant called “Hamburger Station.” This fella always dressed in a cowboy hat and the new restaurants had a cowboy theme complete with a huge horse statue out front. The inside had saddles and cowboy motif. They opened in 1975 and are still in business today. He claims that he is the only person that knows the grease recipe and he will never tell anyone else (I guess Pop did tell somebody else the recipe). They tried to do an expansion, but it never grew to the number of stores they were originally shooting for. I think they are down to two or three as of 2024. The menu has expanded a great deal, and you can get ketchup (but I NEVER do!).

Today’s story will be a Tire Town Burger Love Story that I remember from when I was a young lad and how my dad introduced me to his world of Akron burger joints.

But First…A Joke:

A proctologist is walking around the office with a rectal thermometer tucked behind his ear. He goes into a staff meeting to discuss the day’s activities, and a coworker asks why he has a thermometer behind his ear. In a wild motion he grabs for the thermometer, looks at it, and shouts, “Then where did I put my pen?”

Bonus Dad Joke:

I dreamed about drowning in an ocean of orange soda last night. It took me a while to realize it was just a Fanta sea.

A Verse to Contemplate:

I have refined you, but not as silver is refined. Rather, I have refined you in the furnace of suffering - Isaiah 48:10 (NLT)

Have I Told You This One?

We didn’t have a ton of money when I was growing up, but I didn’t realize it since everybody I grew up with was pretty much the same in East Akron. Most everyone I knew had parents and relatives working in the tire factories or some related business. I say that to say we didn’t have a lot of money for “extra” things.

One day dad comes home from work and at dinner lets me know that he won a one-year membership to the YMCA downtown from work, and he was giving it to me. I was about 10 or so and was going to learn how to swim and could also play basketball a few times a week. I was super pumped! This was so unexpected. One of his buddies won one too, so he would be taking turns driving us downtown to the YMCA. This was a big deal to me. The YMCA building was this cool art-deco style building with a big pool and gymnasium on the lower floors and rooms and such on the upper floors.

I’m all excited for the first time and dad drives me and a friend to our lessons. The first part of the day was basketball lessons and then swimming. We go into the locker room and change into our gym clothes and head out onto the basketball court. I’m out there jicking around when a coach blows his whistle for us to gather around. He has these younger guys (probably high school age) gather about 6 or 7 of us into group and starts to teach us the finer points of basketball. I’m my typical spastic self and can’t stand still when he starts to dribble the ball and asks our group if anyone can steal the ball from him. Challenge accepted! I sneak around behind him and when he turns my way…BAM, there goes my nose. I wasn’t there 30 minutes, and I break my nose and I’m bleeding all over the gym floor. They give me a towel and back into the locker room I go. They give me a bag of ice and call Big Wayne to come and get me. Dad shows up and can’t believe I am already banged up. I can tell he is kind of upset but he is also concerned about me. Dads back then were not really good at being huggers if you catch my drift. My debut at the YMCA doesn’t go anywhere like I had hoped, and I get dressed back into my street clothes. On the way home the car is very quiet, and dad can tell I’m really upset.

As we are driving past Goodyear he pulls into Thacker’s and tries to make my day better by looking at me and saying, “stay here, I’ll go get a sack of burgers.” He comes back and we make it home before the bottom of the bag dissolves and he saved the day. Dad didn’t always have to give me a hug to let me know he loved me, sometimes Thacker’s would do the trick.

After I moved away from Akron in my mid 20’s it was always a treat to come back home and eat at some of my favorite places (Still Is!!). A favorite for dad and me was for me to grab a sack of Hamburger Station burgers and their onion rings and have a little midnight snack on the deck. Trying to hide it from others was futile since the onions could be smelled from Columbus.

After dad passed it felt weird to not have our little get together over a few burgers and rings. But I’ll always remember the day that those Thacker burgers made my nose feel a whole lot better!

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I rest in Your peaceful presence and trust in You to calm the cares of my heart. Teach me to discern how Your peace can lead me to Your ways.

Book Recommendation:

The Little Red Book of Wisdom by Mark DeMoss (2007)

Music Recommendation:

External Combustion by Mike Campbell and the Dirty Knobs (2022)

Quote of the Day:

“Life is never fair, and perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not.” – Oscar Wilde

New Life from Death

I have been studying in James recently in my devotion time. I came across a verse in James that stopped me in my tracks when I first read it. In fact, I stopped reading and placed my Bible down and started to pray. The verse goes like this:

“My brothers and sisters, think of the various tests you encounter as occasions of joy.”

I felt like that was what I was meant to hear on that day. Problem was, I don’t understand what it means, so I stopped to pray, meditate and think it through. My biggest question is “Lord, how does that work?”

My family and I have been on a challenging journey over the past few years. This week in particular was very challenging as it marked three years since Michelle got sick and entered the hospital from which she never returned. Prior to that, this past week was looked forward to each year. It is the week we celebrated our anniversary, Michelle’s birthday, and the anniversary of her successful kidney transplant back in 1999. All of these events are only three days apart. It was a time where we could stop the fast pace of our lives in suburban Atlanta and thank God for being so kind to us and a special time to reflect on his greatness and goodness. Of course, it is easy to be thankful and joyful when things are going great, but when stuff goes bad, how do you think of those hard times as joyous? That’s a smidge tougher, at least for me it is.

Many people misquote the Scripture in I Corinthians 10. Many use it to encourage other people when they are going through hard times by saying “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” This is not what the Scripture says (or means). The actual verse, I Corinthians 10:13, is as follows:

“No temptation has overtaken you, except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

That was the first part of the answer I was seeking. Living in this world will always have its challenges, sadness, sorrows, and losses. The fact that the God of the Universe has prepared a way for you and I to ENDURE it as we go through it is something to be joyous about. Being and feeling alone is awful. Having your dreams snatched away just as you were going to start realizing them is a tough pill to get down. Watching couples go on vacations, go to church and other events together, to hold hands, to laugh together, or simply to talk to your best friend is very hard to work through some days. People mean well, but when you are on the “other side” of the conversation it falls incredibly short.

Like many who are going through grief, anniversaries can be very trying times. It feels like a dark cloud starts following you a few months out and then the storm hits when the date gets here. Grief counselors are in agreement that the best thing to do is talk about it. I hate talking about it. I feel like I make people uncomfortable and awkward. When people ask me how I’m doing, I quickly try and size them up and see if they REALLY want to know or if “Fine, thanks for asking” is what they are looking for. A friend that sits down with you and digs a little deeper is another thing to be joyous about. I am not different from many others (stop laughing!). We ALL go through hardships and trials, and things rarely work out like we hoped (which may also be a good thing). But the Lord helps us to endure. Works on our perspective by helping us focus on the great many good things that happen to us every single day.

Over the past three years I have been trying to get my arms around being happy and joyous in ALL things. I didn’t think it was even possible three years ago and most days now I have my doubts. However, I started paying attention to what was going on around me. I have one couple who are dear friends who both have been fighting cancer and have gone through the ringer. The wife puts together a daily blog of all the things she finds joy in. I am blown away by her faith and resolve. This is a thing to be joyous about. Others are battling just as hard or harder. They are inspiring to me. We all need inspiration when we go through trials.

One of the things that she emphasizes is to be thankful. Know that if God woke us up for another day that He has plans for us. If He has plans for us, He will provide everything we need to get done what He wants done. There are many days that are a struggle to get out of bed but if my eyes are open there is something out there that He wants ME and only ME to do, say, serve, etc. I can’t shrug that off. That is another thing to be joyous about. I have a choice to feel sorry for myself or to trust Him and believe that that all of this will, eventually lead to something awesome.

My blog today will be about an event that I have taken the time to look back on and realize that although it was a very difficult trial and things didn’t work out exactly how I wanted them to work out, God’s plan was/is always better than mine. It led me to trust Him when I didn’t think I could and changed my heart from sadness to hopeful and joyful.

But First…A Joke:

My grandpa would always tell me that when he was growing up, his mother would give him $1 and send him to the store. He’d come back with two loaves of bread, half a gallon of milk, a carton of eggs, and a pound of pork. He says you can’t do that nowadays - there are way too many security cameras.

Bonus Dad Joke:

I haven’t slept for ten days, because that would be too long.

A Verse to Contemplate:

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

Have I Told You This One?

When Michelle and I moved to Atlanta it was a great big adventure. Neither of us had been too far away from the Rubber City and all we had was each other when we put the car in drive and headed south in February of 1984. It was a LOT of fun. Independent and on our own, starting new jobs and acclimating to a major city. Being adults (stop laughing!), experiencing a ton of new things. Traveling all over from the busiest airport in the world. Making money for the first time in our lives that we could actually live on (barely). It was great (I may have mentioned that earlier).

I came back to Akron for the funeral of my grandfather, my mom’s dad, about four years or so after we moved. My dad and sister came to pick me up at Cleveland Hopkins and on the way back to Akron we were hit by a drunk driver going over 100 miles per hour which spun us off the highway and caused us to do a complete barrel role and we came to rest on the passenger side of the car. The driver ran from the scene. Luckily, we were okay. Battered and bruised up but it could have been much worse. Prior to that accident, Michelle and I talked about starting a family, but we decided to be on a five-year plan. The accident shook me up and when I called home to let her know what had happened, I also told her that the five-year plan was over. It was time to start our family.

Michelle’s dad found out that he needed a kidney transplant, and Michelle was planning on donating her kidney to him. When she went in to get worked up by the transplant team it was discovered that she was pregnant, and this would exclude her from donating. She was heartbroken and happy at the same time.

Over the next five years we had three beautiful daughters, and our family was growing. We both were excited by all of this until we got the news that Michelle now needed a kidney transplant. It was genetic in her family and that news hit hard. We had three kids under five, she had quit working outside of the home to be with them and teach them. Now what do we do?

Michelle didn’t want to go to the dialysis center and be hooked up to a machine, so she did peritoneal dialysis at home (or in the minivan, gymnastics center, or swim center) and would have to exchange fluid several times every day to flush her kidneys. Once kidney function gets below 10%, a person has to go into a dialysis center or get a transplant. Michelle’s mom was going to donate a kidney to her but when the day came for the surgery, they went through one last test to make sure they were still compatible. They weren’t and the surgery was called off. Michelle went on the national kidney donation register and had to have surgery to put in a shunt in her side as a portal for the machines. I never saw her more disappointed in my life.

She stayed at 15% for about three months and then fell to 10%. She had to start going to the center. A few weeks doing that until one day, on her birthday, the buzzer went off in the middle of the night and they told her to get to the hospital. Piedmont Hospital here we come!

The surgeon was this big ole boy from Texas and as we were walking Michelle to the surgery theater (she was on a gurney with the kidney in a box at her feet and feeling no pain from the pre surgery meds. I was trying to come up with something profound to say. All I could come up with was, “Well, Good Luck!” He looked me directly in the eyes, banged his hand on top of the kidney box, and said to me in a loud booming Texas guy voice, “Son, there is no luck involved!” and turned around and went into the surgery center to give my sweetie the gift of health and life. To this day, that was the most savage thing anyone has ever said to me! I love that guy!

After the surgery was over, I went into Intensive Care to see how she did, and everyone was very confident that it would be successful. It started working right away. Talk about a joyful heart! Her dad had three kidney transplants that were not successful, so we were very anxious to say the least. As I sat there, my mind drifted to the person that donated the kidney. I knew absolutely nothing about them. I asked the surgeon about the kidney, and he told us that it was a cadaver kidney from someone that had passed away in a motorcycle accident somewhere in Atlanta. Michelle had received New Life from Death, and we were so grateful.

We can never thank this person and their family enough for their gift to us and our family and all the people that got to know Michelle and for the instant change in her quality of life. She dedicated herself to taking care of herself and her kidney lasted 22 years. The average transplant lasts 10 years. Yes, God’s ways are not my ways and I’m happy to leave Him in charge. Even when I get hurt as bad as I did. I believe that one day it will all make sense, and I am not arrogant enough to challenge His methodology. He also is not in the business of checking with me prior to making big decisions.

How do you find joy in someone dying in a motorcycle accident, or the person you loved the most in the world dies in twelve days from Covid in a horrible way? I don’t know the complete answer to that question, but I do know that He woke me up today and He has a plan for me. Thank you, Lord, so much. I’m glad she is with You. I miss her unbelievably, but I trust You. As the Roman soldier said, “I believe, help me with my unbelief.”

On this day every year, I reach out online to encourage others to be organ donors. If you are not signed up and want to do it, please sign up. Also, please let those around you know what your end-of-life plans are. The gift of life and health is the best gift anyone could receive. I know that for a fact.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, give me courage to follow You no matter what. Help me to trust You even when it doesn’t make sense in spite of the way I feel.

Book Recommendation:

What Radical Husbands Do by Regi Campbell (2014)

Music Recommendation:

Social Distortion by Social Distortion (1990)

Quote of the Day:

When asked if she ever contemplated divorce, Ruth Graham (Billy Graham’s wife) said, “No. I’ve never thought of divorce in all these years of marriage; but I did think of murder a few times.”

The Season Starts August 1st

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away but near Akron, Ohio was a young man I knew very well. This young man had dreamed of the day when he could take his place among his athletic idols and play football for Ellet High School. I’m sure this story is not very unique for a child of the 70s in the Midwest but when you talk to this guy, you could see his eyes brighten when he recalled those days. Although they were days that came and went with incredible speed the memories were vivid. This guy tells me that now days he can’t remember driving to work until after he was already there, but he can somehow remember little details about events over 50 years ago.

When this young man was a little guy, he was asked by his dad if he wanted to take the five or six block walk up Stevenson Avenue on a Fall Friday night to catch his first high school football game. When they were about halfway to the stadium this experience started to take hold. They could hear the muffled announcers getting the PA ready, they could hear the marching band performing, they could hear the drone of the crowd assembling on their sides of the field. The light standards were ablaze, and they got more excited the closer they got to the Ellet Orange Bowl. When they rounded the last corner, it was majestic! The smells of fresh cut grass, the sounds of cheerleaders in cadence, the sounds of pads and helmets clicking, the smell of hot dogs and popcorn at the concession stand, and the scoreboard all lit up just waiting for the teams to come charging on to the field.

Having never experienced anything like this before the young man is awestruck with the entire experience and wonders if he would ever be fortune enough to do what he saw those guys doing. He was hooked for life and as he walked back down Stevenson Avenue with his dad after the game, he remembers his dad asking him, “Well, what do you think?” The young man looked up at his dad and said, “I want to do THAT, it was awesome!”

His dad lets him know that next year he will be old enough to play and promises to sign him up for a team. Although this young man has no idea of how the game is played, what the names of the positions other than quarterback are, or how you put on the equipment he is IN!

This is where the young man starts getting excited as he transports himself back to that time in the late 1960s and starts to laugh a little bit at himself. He recalls that when he put on his equipment for the first time, that he put the thigh pads in backwards as well as the hip pads (which by the way can be very painful!). Once he figured that out, he put them on correctly and laced up his brand new high top black spikes. He put this oversized helmet on that made him look like an astronaut heading up to the lunar module. When he shows pictures of that day it is hilarious. His knee pads are protecting his shins, and his thigh pads are down to his knees.

He also grimaces as he remembers the first time they had to do grass drills, running laps and hills, getting yelled at for being in the wrong place or not going fast enough. He didn’t see any of THIS on that Friday night a while back. The coaches are also blowing this dang whistle nonstop and saying things to us that were supposed to be naughty words. Yikes, if their mothers could hear this they are going to get grounded for life.

So, it is time for the first game, and they travel to nearby Coventry for a practice game with the Comets. They line each team up on corresponding 40-yard lines and the young man remembers picking out the guy directly across from him on the other team realizing he’s a pretty good-sized boy! He is sure that it was probably like going to a painful recital for his parents but to him he was in the orange and black uniform and part of his first team just like his heroes on the Friday night under the lights with dad.

Today’s blog will be about this young man’s football odyssey through the years and why August 1st always brings back some special memories from a half a century ago.

But First…A Joke:

Fresh out of the shower, a man stood in front of the mirror complaining to his wife that his biceps were too small. Instead of telling him it’s not true, she came up with a suggestion. “If you want your biceps to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it on them for a few seconds.”

Willing to try anything, he fetched a piece of toilet paper and stood in front of the mirror again, rubbing it on his biceps. “How long will this take?” he asked. “They’ll grow larger over a period of years,” his wife replied.

“Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper on my biceps every day will make them larger?” “It worked for your butt, didn’t it?”

Bonus Dad Joke:

What did the father buffalo say to his son when he left for school? “Bison.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens - Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)

Have I Told You This One?

Over the years, football season started for this young man on August 1st. As he moved through the different levels of ball as he grew older it was always the same. During winter workouts and conditioning, the coach would let us know that The Season Starts on August 1st and we better be ready. August 1st.........the first day of "two-a-days" and the official start of football practice and the first day you could be in pads and hit. Two-a-days was a practice in the morning and a practice in the afternoon after a lunch break. Then go home and collapse in the bed for a quick nap.

For this young man, football was a place where he could learn discipline and teamwork. He learned about leadership and how to deal with losing and winning and sticking out something until the end once you start. He learned about not quitting even when things got tough. He met a lot of lifelong friends. It also was helpful being a football player if you needed a date!

One thing I found interesting as this young man went on with his story was that his heroes back in that day were guys who were only a few years older than him that made a name playing for the Orangemen. Guys like Cockerham, Pirgowicz, Yost, Parcell, Loughry, Kuhl, and a host of other guys. This young man was very content to be able to follow these guys who were something of a legend to him. Playing games in the Rubber Bowl, trying to get into the Turkey Day game on Thanksgiving, or trying to get your team and your name in the Beacon Journal. Perhaps these were not the loftiest goals but for this young man it was high cotton.

By now you have figured it out that I am the young man. I still love going to watch those games and I'm still hooked. Not so much to relive my "glory days" but it is just a lot of fun to watch a bunch of dudes try and become a team. To have their time under the lights and to have some memories that last forever. It also prepares you with a dose of reality that some guys are bigger, better, faster, and stronger. That Woody Hayes was not losing sleep over me not playing college ball at Ohio State, in fact I’m pretty confident that my name never even crossed his desk at any point. I figured out that going to college to develop some other skills might be a better idea. It is hard to have a dream die but it does prepare you for the future as that tends to happen more often than I would like.

When I got my time to play, I remember the excitement when the band cranked up and we went rolling out on to the field. I remember feeling confident that I belonged out there. As the verse above says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” I’m pretty sure high school football fits as an activity under the heavens. I’m so glad my dad took me to that first game. I’m forever thankful for all the coaches, parents, teachers, and fellow teammates that made the experience one that I will never forget.

We won one game in my senior year, against Kenmore. All those years of pee wees and jr. high football and we won ONE game. But you know what? I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I'm 64 now and August 1st still is special to me. Have fun guys, The Season Starts Today!

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, show me Your ways so that I may walk with You. Give me Your wisdom so that I may know You better and be a person that strives to glorify You in all that I do.

Book Recommendation:

OXEN, The Key to an Abundant Harvest by Joseph Sangl (2012)

Music Recommendation:

Pathways by California Guitar Trio (1998)

Music to Soothe a Savage Beast

There is a very popular phrase/quote that says, “Music soothes the savage beast.” There are many variations of this idiom, but a lot of people use it and probably do not know that they are misquoting the originator of the saying. I have always believed it to be that music has the ability to calm down even the most savage of the human beasts among us. Music lovers like me have used it or heard this quote often.

Through a little research I discovered that the original quote was first coined by William Congreve who was a poet of the restoration period and an English playwright. The actual quote was “Musick has Charms to sooth a savage BREAST, to soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.” This first hit the scene in 1967 as part of a play titled “The Mourning Bride”. The first thing that jumped out to me was that the quote originally was Breast versus Beast. The meaning is likely interpreted as chest or heart which meant feelings, emotions and heart back when it was first penned.

So, I (and many others) have been using it to say something quite different for many years apparently. Either way, I think the quote is still powerful no matter which way it is being used. Music is one of the best ways to calm heartache, pain and emotions. Music has a “power” and an ability to make people smile and I believe, to change the world. Who knows, it may even calm a wild beast or three!

I am a deep believer in the power of music. I always have the radio on in the house, in the car, at work, in the garage, and in the gym. Anywhere I go I’m looking for other music people, they tend to be the fun ones. I love going to shows. I love collecting records, CDs, mp3’s, tapes, etc. My personal collection is somewhere over 25,000. I know, I may have a problem. I often refer to it as “glorious fortunes of a misspent youth.”

I have bought music weekly (in some form) since the first record I bought back in the 1960’s. You could go to almost any store and buy 45’s that had an A side and a B side. When I got my paper route, I graduated up to either multiple 45’s or long players (LPs). I would take them home, carefully slice the cellophane open, slide the record in its paper jacket out and place it on my turntable and give it a spin. I loved it!

I can’t play music; I can’t read music; and if you know me at all you know that I can’t sing either but that has not stopped me from enjoying it my whole life. My dad was a big music fan, and I would play his records to death. He had a wide range of musical taste and that exposed me to many different kinds of music. Growing up in Akron, we could catch WMMS, the Buzzard, out of Cleveland, Ohio which was rated the country’s #1 rock station (according to Rolling Stone magazine) ten years in a row in the 1970s and 1980s. You could hear live music somewhere every night of the week and the weekends were always full of shows.

Many of my friends also were big into music and we could sit and talk about it forever. This was before the internet and computers so there was always a search going on for the coolest new bands and word of mouth was the way it happened for us. Juke boxes were our Spotify.

One of the cool things I remember growing up as a teenager was going over to someone’s house to hang out. Then sitting down and going through their record collection was a serious bonding exercise. A lot of guys talked sports, cars, girls, parties (me too), but what I really liked to do was sit down and go through their records. That was the quickest way to know if I had anything in common with them. It also showed me how deep they were into it. I could talk hours about music. Some guys could tell you the best baseball players and the best teams ever, but I could tell you who the best guitar players were and who the best frontmen were. I could talk music history and which albums were better than the others in their catalog. I know in the larger scheme of things that this information is not all that important but for this tire builder’s kid from Akron, it was a big deal.

When I first starting dating, I would show up to a young lady’s home with a dozen records stuffed under my arm to play because, well you know, you can never be too careful! Nothing worse than getting stuck with a cruddy album collection of bubble gum music, right!?

When I started dating Michelle, I got invited over one evening to meet her parents and family and have dinner. Once all that had been completed, she asked me if I would like to go and listen to some records. Well, that was the quickest conversation we ever had. “Absolutely, I would love to!” So, we head into their living room, and I see the stereo system and a stack of records neatly leaning against the wall. I love a neat and tidy record room, so things are headed in the right direction. I can’t stand records being out of their jackets and getting all dusty and fingerprinty (I told you I needed help!). So, I quickly sit down next to the records and start flipping through the stack. This is where things take a quick turn. I’m looking through and I see Cat Stevens, Dan Fogelberg, The Eagles, Chicago, America, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Elton John, Doobie Brothers, and several others in the same genre. What I don’t see is the hard rock and metal albums that are in my collection. Oh boy. What to do Rut machine? I ask something like “Is this all of them?” I am told that indeed that was the complete collection and was asked what I thought. It is never a good idea to lie to someone right off the bat, so I tried real hard not to and replied, “I’m sure you enjoy them very much!”

Today’s blog will be about how music played a huge part in our budding relationship and how it may have soothed a savage beast (and metal head), ME!

But First…A Joke:

One day, I hear a knock at the door. An older man is standing on the front porch. “I’m so sorry,” the visitor says, “but I think I’ve run over your cat. I’d like to replace him.” “Okay, I say, “but how good are you at catching mice?”

Bonus Dad Joke:

I was busy at work one day and the phone rings. “This is the school calling about your son, Bubba, a woman said. “He’s been caught telling wild lies.” “Indeed!”, I say, “I don’t have a son.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails, and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior - Habakkuk 3: 17-18

Have I Told You This One?

As a teenager growing up and trying to be tough and cool you couldn’t be caught liking music on the softer side. If it was fast and loud, we were on to it. The music of the 70’s and 80’s was such a great time to be coming of age. Fifty years later I can still hear a certain record and immediately I am transported back to those days.

Michelle and I sat down and listened to all of her records. Initially I had to act like I enjoyed her music, but it wasn’t what I was into then. After some time, I actually started to like her music and it did seem to soothe me down some. It was always calm and soothing in her house. The lights were frequently down, the TV was on low, the music was not blaring, and you could still smell dinner that had been over a few hours ago. The house I grew up in was completely different. It looked and sounded like the circus was in town and hanging out at my house. Every TV was on, every stereo was cranking, all the lights were on. You get the idea. It was a nice respite to go over to her house and see how the other half lived. Don’t tell anyone but I also started becoming familiar with her records and taste in music.

She went to shows with me, mostly up in Cleveland, and actually started to dig some of my music as well. We went to see bands like AC/DC, Aerosmith, Kiss, Queen, Nazareth, Cheap Trick, Foghat, and more of that ilk. She always looked smoking in the latest concert shirt. We had a lot of fun and tried to give and take when it came to music. She knew it was important to me and she put up with my obsessions. Think women and shoes as a close comparison to me and albums.

As our relationship grew, we decided we need a song to be “our song.” We decided on “Just You and Me” by Chicago because I knew “we” would never agree on “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath (smirk). The lyrics to You and Me seemed to fit our relationship pretty good and it always made us think of each other especially of those early days sitting listening to records in her music room.

When she passed away in 2021, I had to go through her things and one of things she had in her car was a few CDs. She never seemed to need 25,000 like me. She had Dan Fogelberg, Jackson Browne, and Elton John CDs in her car. Those are my favorite CDs now because I can put them on and picture her enjoying the music even if she wasn’t head banging. I can hear her singing the lyrics and laughing at me for singing them wrong.

I was coming home yesterday from the grocery store and a Dan Fogelberg song came on the radio. The DJ was describing the history of the song and what it meant to him. How it was made, who played on it, how it went on to be a hit and how great it was for him to have been a part of it. As I listened, I was thrust back to her house on Dorsett Avenue, wrapped in that Afghan rug that everyone had back in those days, looking at her smile as I put my arm around her before her dad saw me do it. I remember her asking me if I liked that particular song “There’s a Place in the World for a Gambler” and I lied and said that I did. It turns out that after all these years I wasn’t lying. That song meant the world to me yesterday because I felt like she was near me.

I was missing her BIG lately and I went through some of things that I have saved over the years that she gave to me. I found an anniversary card from our last one that we got to celebrate together. She wrote a quick note on it that said, “Just You and Me, Happy and Free after all these years.” I miss her so much.

Music does in fact soothe this savage beast and it also impacts my heart (breast) and gives me something only death can erase and that is our memories. My view of heaven includes listening to the best music you have ever heard for all of eternity. Sitting there with all of those that you love with nothing else to do than to nod my head to the beat and look at all the beauty around me.

That would make a good song now wouldn’t it.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, When I am reminded of the power You supply me with, I stand strong. You give me every tool I need to overcome my fears and to live for You. Thank You for allowing me to draw from Your strength.

Book Recommendation:

When There Are No Easy Answers - Thinking Differently About God, Suffering, and Evil by John S. Feinberg (2016)

Music Recommendation:

Souvenirs by Dan Fogelberg (1974)

In The Ocean?

Okay folks, buckle up. This post may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it may make you giggle and snort a little bit. Given all that’s going on lately, that may not be the worst thing to happen to you today. I am willing to take one for the team and tell tales about myself, because, well, let’s face it, I have a LOT of material to choose from!

Like every story you will need some of the background to fully appreciate the level of idiocy you are about to endure. The two main characters in this tale is me and my late wife Michelle. There is a theory out there that opposites attract and that approximately 70% of all marriages comprise couples that are opposites. Michelle and I were one of those for sure.

My precious wifey was a beautiful, funny and quite proper lady. She did not take any crud off people very often and her idiot husband was a bit of a handful. He didn’t have a real strong filter and did and said some pretty crazy things over the years. For whatever reason, she kind of dug me and our opposites seemed to offset each other pretty amazingly well.

For example, she could be very direct with people, and I would try and kill them with kindness. She taught me and I taught her that there were two ways to get things done and over time it made us both better for it. She seemed to think I was funny and would get a kick out of me. She would get asked “frequently” if I was an escaped mental patient and she would smile, pat me on the head, give me a biscuit and tell me to go play with the other kids.

I liked making her laugh and shake her head about the things I did and spoke. She got so used to it over the years that I really had to come up with something new and shocking to get a rise out of her. Challenge accepted!

Another part of the story that will make it more interesting was part of my medical history. I know you don’t want to hear about any of this but stick with me for a minute. When I was in my thirties, I was getting severe pain in my gut that would come and go and doctors had a few theories on what it might be. I was traveling in Tennessee one week and I ended up having an attack in the middle of the night. I drove myself to the nearest hospital and it was determined that my gallbladder was kaput and needed to be removed. No offense to the lovely people of Cleveland, Tennessee but I wanted the folks in Atlanta to do the operation, so I went back home and set up an appointment with a surgeon. In his exam he told me that it was not that big of a deal and that he did a bunch of these operations every year. In fact, he said that we really didn’t need a gallbladder and I would be fine except for a few “minor” possibilities. I replied, “No offense doc, but I’m pretty sure that if God put it in me that there was a reason it was in there!” I was also very curious about this “minor” things that I would need to deal with.

He patted me on the head, gave me a biscuit, and said that the gallbladder is used to create bile that helps break down food in the body in the digestive process. He also said that the biggest difference I had to get used to was that “when it is time to GO, you’ve got to GO!” At the time, that didn’t seem to be that big of a deal and took him at his word (as if I had a choice).

I have the surgery and as he predicted everything went very smoothly and I was up and back at it pretty quickly with a nice new 10” scar on my stomach. Onward and upward, I went and didn’t give it much thought until I started travelling hard again and found out that he wasn’t wrong on the “when you’ve got to GO, you’ve got to GO” part as well. I did seem to get a warning when things were heading south. I would get the infamous “gurgle…gurgle...gurgle” in my gut that let me know that the fun and games was about to arrive.

I had to think “strategically” on what I ate and if I had enough time to get near a restroom once the said nourishment hit my colon, if you get my drift! It was kind of odd to be sitting around with other 30-year-old folks and talking about having to have a restroom in close proximity. I felt like I was a 60-year-old guy. I like to think that I was just ahead of my time.

Today’s blog will be about one of my prouder moments when Michelle and I were caught short once the gurgles hit and the stroke of ingenuity, I used to save the day. Like I said earlier, BUCKLE UP!!

But First…A Joke:

A man suddenly realizes that he has to go to the bathroom and to his delight he finds a public restroom close by and charges into the stall. He discovers that there is no toilet paper. He notices a pair of shoes in the next stall and asks, “Excuse me friend, do you have any toilet paper in there?”

“I’m sorry, no,” comes the reply.

“Do you have any newspaper?”

“Sorry, buddy, I do not.”

“Umm, do you have two fives for a ten?”

Bonus Dad Joke:

Q: What are the four worst words you can hear on a golf course?

A: “It’s still your turn.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Finally, brothers and sisters, mend your ways, be comforted, be like-minded, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. - II Corinthians 13:11

Have I Told You This One?

So, back when the Covid-19 pandemic was just starting and before everyone got illegally trapped in their homes, we decided to take a trip to Kiawah Island, South Carolina for a relaxing week on the beach to enjoy the sun, water, fun, and quiet of a two-person vacation. We were having a great time, and the beach was not crowded and at times it felt like we had the place to ourselves, which is always nice.

We would get up in the morning and go for a long walk along the beach and then go back to our villa and get our stuff ready for a day on the beach. I was the pack mule and would drag all the beach stuff down to the beach, set it up, and then call for the Queen to take her place on her sandy throne. Some days we would pack food and other days we would walk up to one of the restaurants near the beach for a quick bite. We repeated this scenario for several days and I have to admit I was really enjoying myself. It’s one of my favorite places to go and the company was awesome.

This one particular morning we decided to increase our morning walk to a place several more miles down the beach. It was much more desolate, and we were up for the challenge to get our steps in early that day. On the way to the end of the beach, we decided to stop at this little breakfast place (MISTAKE!). We had a nice meal with good conversation, met a few other people from Atlanta and then we decided to hit the beach to finish our walk. We made it up to the end of the beach and hung out there for a while and then headed back down the beach toward the villa to get our gear for another day of doing nothing on the beach.

Well, we get to a spot that there is not much around when the gurgles first hit. I stop in my tracks and mention to Michelle that I think breakfast has made it to my colon and that we need to pick up the pace. She looks at me and asks, “You’re going to make it, right?” I reply, “less talkie, more walkie!” She now has that concerned look in her eye, as do I.

We walk a bit farther on and I’m starting to get a little cocky that I think I might make it. Right up until the next round of gurgles kick in. This time they were much angrier with me. We pick up the pace, but it is becoming all too clear that I am NOT going to finish the walk as previously hoped. I get all serious and tell her that I’m in big trouble. Of course, given our past, she thinks I’m yanking her. I assure her in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t be more wrong!

“What are you going to do?”

At this point my choices have been wilted down to (1) in my pants, or (2) In the Ocean. She starts to laugh between talking and blurts out, “In The Ocean?” I assure her that I have thought of every possible alternative and that, in fact, those are the two up for consideration. She quizzes me just to make sure she actually did hear me right, “In The Ocean?”. Yes honey, your husband is going to poop the ocean!

It buckles her. She is on one knee and can hardly breathe as she sees me head for the Atlantic. She starts looking around and thankfully she does not see anyone. I wade in to my ankles and she urges me to go back further, she is now rolling on the ground in laughter. I reach waist level and see urges me to go deeper. She can’t believe this is happening and urges me to go back a bit father. I now know she is trying to drown me. I can’t wait any longer and reach down and drop my drawers. I was pretty impressed at my dexterity in being able to hold on to my clothes, do my work, and avoid the floating evidence that the waves are trying to send my way. I look into the beach, and she is yelling “Watch Out” (like I needed that advice)!

I make my way out of the water, and she is beside herself. I mention that it was funny the first 50 times she laughed but now we just need to forget this ever happened and more on with our lives. As if that was ever going to happen! So, yes Virginia there is an ocean pooper from Georgia, and he has presents.

You are welcome. I hope your day just got a little better.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, it is so true - I am fueled for life when I cease running and rest in Your Prescence. Thank you for being patient and waiting on me. Please continue to draw me near to You in a way that I will not be able to resist.

Book Recommendation:

The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw (1998)

Music Recommendation:

Superunknown by Soundgarden (1994)

A Purple Nutty

I think everyone does some personal introspection from time to time and takes “inventory” of who they are and maybe we see some things that we wish we did better or habits we would like to change. Maybe we run into someone that was really impressive and we think about ways we might mirror their ways of living. We may question ourselves on the way we react to our world and the people we encounter.

If we are people of faith there is also that standard to consider. Even though the Bible discusses at length and in great detail how God cares more about the inside (our hearts) rather than the outside (our flesh), we still get overly concerned about what others see rather than what is most important.

In one of my sessions of self-appraisal, I noted a few things that I have seemed to struggle with most of my life. If I’m being honest (and I’m trying to), it is not always easy to look in the mirror and admit that these traits, habits, character flaws, failures are a “big deal.” But they are. We spend our entire lives trying to be the best version of ourselves that we can be.

This is accomplished and influenced through a myriad of experiences including: how we were raised, the friends we connect with (and ones that we don’t), social norms, education, peer pressure, faith, travel, reading, retreats, counseling, coaching, and many more. It ebbs and flows depending on what we think is the most important at a given time.

One of my life-long struggles has been my temper and the corresponding way I deal with things that get me angry. Growing up my dad had a short fuse and could go into a rage in a New York minute while my mom never seemed to get angry, ever. In both of my parents’ homes it was very similar, the guys were easier to react angrily while the ladies were seemingly under control and kept their emotions intact.

In the Bible, the apostle Paul in a letter to the Galatians defines what the “Fruit of the Spirit” is and how we can see it in others. These traits are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control. The more we see these in a person, the more they are living in the Spirit. Ouch.

In my life, I have tried a number of things to keep the famous “Rutledge temper” under some “control.” If you talk with people who have known me for some time, they will tell you, they have seen it. I do not wear it like a medal, and it is embarrassing and discouraging at times. I see it in other members of the family and we all can give each other a knowing nod when it goes off in one of us. We ALL have stories. When I would get that mad it takes two to three days to forgive myself and return back to the planet.

During my teen years I had sports to help me get that angst out. I could get on a field and go a little gaga for a few hours and it seemed to help. As I got older, I got convicted from reading the Bible and hearing sermons and tried to do better. Michelle was always helpful and could give me the “look” and I would normally calm down…Normally. As I became a father and a leader in different areas I worked hard and prayed harder for help to not throw a “nutty.” I’m sure you have all seen a nutty before. It’s when someone just totally loses it. Their face goes to red, RED, and REDDDDDD. The tone in the voice jacks up and some slobber may get ejected like a pilot from a fighter jet. Think, old time umpire and baseball manager arguments back in the day.

Today’s blog will let you in on a time I took the nutty to the Purple Nutty level and the immediate payback I received from letting my emotions get the better of me. God really does have a great sense of humor.

But First…A Joke:

A wife was making fried eggs for breakfast. Suddenly, her husband burst into the kitchen. “Careful,” he said. “Careful! Add some more butter! My gosh! You’re cooking too many at once. Too many! Turn them! Turn them now!! We need more butter. Oh dear! They’re going to stick! Careful. I said be careful! You never listen to me when you’re cooking! NEVER! Turn them! Hurry! Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind? Don’t forget to salt them. You know you always forget to salt them. Use the salt. USE THE SALT!”

The wife glares at her husband. “What in the world is going on with you? You think I don’t know how to fry some eggs?”

The husband replied, “I just wanted to show you what it feels like when I’m driving.”

He woke up three days later in the hospital.

Bonus Dad Joke:

What do you call a French guy who wears cheap sandals?

Phillippe Phillope.

A Verse to Contemplate:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” - Isiah 55:8-9

Have I Told You This One?

I was mowing my grass one Fall, and I was pretty sure that this would be the last one of the season. I had this banged up lawnmower that literally was on its last legs and I was trying to get one last mow out of it and then it was going to take a walk across the lawnmower rainbow bridge and a new model would take its place the next Spring.

Unfortunately for me I had been traveling for work and the grass was higher than normal and it was harder to mow. So, I have this piece of crap (“POC”) mower that is burning oil and struggling to keep going. I’m pulling the choke and doing any other trick I know to finish the lawn. In the front yard, it keeps cutting out and then I have to stop and pull the starter rope again, mow about 10 feet, repeat, repeat, repeat. I can feel my blood pressure staring to spike, but I knew it was not going to be easy and I was hoping to get just one last mow out of her. It takes three times as long, but I get the front yard done. I take a break, drink a Coke and psych myself up to take on the back yard.

The same process continues in the back yard but thankfully my back yard is smaller, and I have some woods and a creek in the back. I can almost see the finish line through the fog of smoke that keeps billowing out of the POC mower. I soldier on and get down to the last strip of grass and as I start that last strip the rear tire on the right side just falls off and then the mower stalls again for the 75th time.

That’s it!!! The Purple Nutty hits and I pick up the mower and in my best Olympic hammer throw technique I spin around about four times, and I launch that POC into the woods (I may have shouted some naughty words as well). That sucker went DEEP into the woods! As I was admiring my new world record lawn mower toss, I suddenly feel like I’m being watched (because I was). Michelle was on our deck giving me the “look” and trying not to laugh and asked me, “Do you feel better now?” I wasn’t sure how to answer her. It did feel great, but I don’t think that was the answer she was looking for. When the purple drained out of my face, I also noticed that my neighbor was on his deck and had also taken in my exhibition of strength and stupidity and he asked, “You need some help getting that mower out of the woods?” He, of course, was quite impressed on the height and distance I achieved and was just trying to be helpful as he had videoed the whole thing on his phone. I replied, “No, but thanks!” He did not try and hide his laughter.

It took me a minute to dig that POC out of the woods and now I had an issue. I have about ten feet of the last strip to go and my mower doesn’t have a back right wheel and the handles are bent to hell. Michelle now has some lemonade and a sandwich and is watching the Rutledge Freak Show going on in the back yard. So, I start it back up, the smoke is twice as bad, and it is like pushing a one-legged crab across the grass. It literally took me twenty minutes to do the last ten feet but there was no way I was going to be denied. As soon as I finished that strip, I had to go on a walk to calm down. I think I made it to Chattanooga before I realized where I was.

Every time the neighbor and I happen to be mowing our yards at the same time, he always makes sure to let me know that he is available if I need ANY help.

I told this story to my friends that we were in a small group with and for Christmas that year they had a t-shirt made for me with an Olympic hammer thrower launching a lawn mower. It is one of my prized possessions.

The moral of the story?

Make sure no one is watching before you chuck a POC mower into your woods!

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, saturate me in Your goodness all the days of my life. Renew my mind when I question Your goodness because of my circumstances. You are my refuge and strength. Keep my eyes focused on your faithfulness.

Book Recommendation:

Louder Than Words (The Power of Uncompromised Living) by Andy Stanley (2004)

Music Recommendation:

My Favorite Headache by Geddy Lee (2000)

Time Out! I Gotta Pee!

I played Little League Baseball back in Akron, Ohio starting at age seven. I had never played baseball before other than wiffle ball in the back yard and with some of the kids in the neighborhood. I fell in love with baseball from the first time I played. Absolutely loved it!! Still love it and I’m still hopeful the Tribe will be giving me that call up soon. Tick Tock boys!

Baseball is a big deal in the area of the world I grew up in. Back then you could not play until you were at least seven. We didn’t have t-ball and coach pitch so when we started, we played the Real McCoy right out of the gate. You had to try out and not everyone made the team. As I recall, we had tryouts in April or May and then played games in June and July and then we were done before August, which was when football started, which was even bigger where I first lived.

So, back in 1967, word gets around that tryouts are going to happen for all of us at my grade school, Ritzman School. The original building was already old when I went there almost 60 years ago but, in my mind, I can remember it clear as a bell (which is no small feat these days!). There were two baseball fields in a fenced-in playground. The stands behind the backstop were black stone that seemed to have been used at every school in the area when they were first built. I thought it was cool, I’m not sure why, but I did. The infield and most of the outfield were dirt and the bases were new during the first World War. But, to me, it was a little piece of heaven right here on earth! I loved going up there and playing. We played pickup games at lunch until the weather changed. Anyway, my dad drives me up for tryouts and leaves. I don’t think the parents were allowed to hang around back then (they were on to something!).

They put us through our paces. We run, hit, field, and try different positions for a couple of hours. The coaches were guys like my dad, factory workers with kids of their own. As I was taking some infield practice when one of the coaches came over to me to tell me that I was doing something wrong with my glove when fielding ground balls. I told him that I was doing it correctly because my dad had taught me how to do it. In no uncertain terms he told me that dad was incorrect and to do it the way he taught me. I thought it was against the laws in Ohio for my dad to be wrong about anything. I’m 64 and I still remember that! I did what he told me, and it was better.

I had to sweat out the next few days until I got a call letting me know I made the Tigers. I was pumped. All my buddies on the street made it too and most of us started our careers as Tigers. Prior to the start of the season, we practiced most nights and learned how to play. We used wood bats, shared musty old batting helmets and had to get our own spikes and gloves. As we started to come together as a team, we found out how it worked. The “good” players played mostly in the infield. The chubby kid was the catcher. The coach’s kid was always the best at everything (smirk), and everyone wanted to be the pitcher. Every parent was convinced that their little bundle of joy was just a few years away from playing in the major leagues and couldn’t be persuaded otherwise.

The next step was getting our uniforms and hats. This was a HUGE day in Rutledge Land. Back then, we had 100 percent cotton unis that fit horribly. We all looked like we needed to step away from the training table. We had to learn how to put on our socks and stirrups, how to bend the bill of out hat just the right way, and not spill anything on ourselves prior to the pictures. That was asking a ton for a group of 15 7- and 8-year-old boys. We didn’t have batting gloves, sunglasses, bags to carry our stuff in either. Normally, we just put the glove over the handlebars of our bikes and off we went.

Just as the season was ready to start, we had a little league parade through the community. We dressed in our uniforms and walked as a team on a designated route through the neighborhood that ended at one of the ballfields where we would play a few innings and get our picture taken. It always seemed like the hottest day of the year and walking in that cotton uniform certainly didn’t cool things down, but hey, we were a team and we ready to show the world how awesome we were (or something).

During the season, an All-Star team is picked, and all the players play a game against the other All-Stars (and the coach’s kids). Today’s blog will be about the first time I made the All-Star team and what happened to me in my big debut. As you can guess from the title of this blog, after it was over my poor mom and dad wished they would have monitored my liquid intake a little closer!

But First…A Joke:

One evening, the airmen stationed at Area 51 - the classified Air Force facility - were surprised to see a Cessna landing there. Immediately, the Military Police impounded the aircraft and hauled the pilot into an interrogation room. The pilot claimed his plane had a fuel leak and ran out of gas. Panicking, he had headed toward the only buildings in sight to make an emergency landing. The Air Force conducted a full background check on the pilot and held him overnight.

By the next day, the investigators believed the pilot’s story and cleared him for release. After the pilot’s plane was fixed and fueled, a lieutenant threatened the pilot with prison time if he ever told a soul that he’d been there, and the pilot flew away.

The next day, however, the airmen were shocked to see the same Cessna land on the base. Once again, the MPs surrounded the plane. This time, there were two people inside the craft. The same pilot jumped out with his hands up and said, “Do anything you want to me, but my wife is in the plane, and you have to tell her where I was last night!”

Bonus Dad Joke:

What’s the best way to kill a circus?

Go for the juggler.

You are WELCOME!

A Verse to Contemplate:

Everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. - Matthew 7: 24, 26

Have I Told You This One?

I think it was in my second year of playing that I made my first All-Star team. I was really excited and dad and mom were pretty excited too. I remember that the game was held at Davenport Park which was (then) a brand-new city park and it had four or five fields, basketball courts, tennis courts and cool things to do in the summer. I’m not sure how the teams are picked, I’m guessing the coaches do it, but I found out that I was going to the big game.

It is like waiting for Christmas morning the day before the game. It seems as if time has stopped, and the game will never get here. I fiddle around in my room until dad comes in and says, “get ready, it’s time to go.” He looks a little closer and sees that I am already in my uniform and have been ready since breakfast. He smiles and says, “Okay boy let’s roll and go show them what being a Rutledge is all about!” I say, “You got it dad, I feel good about today, I may hit one out (you know, chicks dig the long ball!). He smiles and our family piles into the Ford and off to the park we go.

I can remember it felt like when we pulled up to the park. There were cars everywhere and people everywhere. You could smell the concession stand and hear the balls hitting gloves and bats as games were going on in all of the fields. This was Nirvana for me. I thought about the moment and can remember getting a little cocky and thinking, “man, I must be pretty good, look at all of this!” Hold up there Wille Mays, you’ve done nothing yet other than show up at the field on time which was handled pretty much by your parents.

Our game is the next one up and they gather us all for a picture and then to warm up. I’m looking around and noticed that some of these guys are a lot bigger than me. One guy drove himself to the game and think he has a kid. This All-Star is starting to feel some doubt creeping in. The coach pulls us together and gives us the starting lineup. I’m not on it. Poop. I didn’t do much bench sitting on the Tigers so this was new to me, but I was one of the younger guys on the team, so I convince myself that I have to be a team player and wait my turn to show my stuff. I’m sure the professional agents won’t be here until later anyway.

The game starts and I look back slowly toward dad to see if he is disappointed that I’m not starting. He gives me “it’s alright” sign which helps me relax some. I cheer on my teammates and in the third inning our coach tells me that I’m going in for the last three innings. If you had ever met my pop, you would remember that he was always filming family stuff. So I let him know that I’m going into the game next inning. He explodes out of his lawn chair and scrambles to get the super-8 camera fired up to capture this monumental event.

Now I’m nervous as all get out. It’s my first time in the big spotlight and I start feeling that doubt creeping back in again. I gather myself and give myself a peep talk and I’m ready to go. The coach yells for the new guys to take the field and I sprint out to centerfield. I get out there and I’m ready for this game….BRING IT! It is my time to shine, and I can’t imagine anything that is going to keep me from having all these fans and players leaving this game and not talking about great that centerfielder from the Tigers was. I was going to leave an impression.

Well, here’s where it goes sideways!

The first batter comes up and gets on first base. I have been taught to think about what I’m going to do with the ball if it is hit to me prior to the pitch. So, I am doing what I was taught, and I have my plan in my mind and then all of the sudden….disaster on an epic level. I have to pee, and I have to pee like five minutes ago! I start dancing around and try to walk it off but the more I think about it the worse it gets. I am now praying they don’t hit it to me because if I run, I know I’m going to have an accident.

The next kid grounds out and the guy on first moves to second base. I’m praying the inning ends but I can tell that I’m not going to make it in time, so what do I do? Of course, I call out, “Time Out! I Gotta Pee!” Now I’ve given everyone something to remember me by but that is not how I thought it was going to go. The umpire calls time and I do the penguin walk to the bench and the coach asks, “what’s the problem?” I tell him and he points me over to the row of cars and wishes me luck as he fills my confused parents in on the latest happenings.

I sprint over to these cars, and I am trying to unbutton (yes, I said unbutton this is 1967) my uniform pants (which are 100% cotton). The pressure is building, and I think I’m going to make it in time, but I do not. I was surprised to find out how just a small amount of liquid spreads on cotton clothes so quickly! I finish and when it is over I look like someone hit me with a water ballon in the worst possible place. By that time, dad comes over to check on me and notices the massive wet spot and tries to hold back a smile but fails miserably. I look at him and ask, “what do I do now?” He thinks for a minute and says, “Just put your glove over it.”

Dad walks me back to the bench as I have been replaced in the field with someone with much better kidneys. I sit on the bench with my glove strategically placed on now pray that this nightmare ends soon. The game ends and we have to shake hands. You know hard it is to shake hands with your right hand in a ball glove covering your down belows, not easy, that’s how hard it is!

Well, my first big time under the big lights didn’t go quite as planned for that great centerfielder from the Tigers. The upside is no one remembers the score of the game (including me), but they sure remember when Rutledge wet himself in the All-Star game! Not everyone can pull that off, am I right?

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, when I rest in You, it’s so much easier to stand firm in the faith. Help me to keep my eyes on You no matter what life brings. Thank you that I am Your beloved and have nothing to fear.

Book Recommendation:

Searching For God Knows What by Donald Miller (2004)

Music Recommendation:

Arc by Jimmy Haslip (1993)

My Escape from the Tyranny of the Urgent

Have you ever done some hard self-reflection and in a moment of true honesty asked yourself “What are my true priorities in life?” Not what should they be but what they really are based on how you live your life. What do I truly value? What do I put most of my time into? What do I put most of my treasure into? Could I prove that in a court of law to a jury of my peers? Could I even convince my family and friends? Am I even being truthful to myself when answering the question? Who benefits from me being in their life?

Since my wife passed nearly three years ago, I have had a lot of time to think and self-reflect and wrestle with these questions and others like it. I do have a tendency to “over-think” things, but I think it is good to ask yourself or to be asked by others tough questions that require an honest answer and try and become better.

Growing up I did not like to sleep. I thought I would miss out on something if I was wasting my time in the rack. I normally got by on five hours a night or so. It used to drive my parents nuts. My room was right across from theirs and I would be up until around 2:00 am most nights doing something until dad would charge into the room and remind me that he had to get up at 5:30 to go to work. I would realize that I was a spastic and turn the radio down and put the vacuum cleaner away. The next morning, I would jump out of bed, run some water over my hair, brush my teeth and then get out and get after it.

I’ve been a very driven person from as long as I can remember. I do not know what caused that. If it was feeling inferior, if it was a fear of losing, if it was a fear of failing, or if it just was a huge need to succeed at everything. I didn’t want to be average, I wanted to be at the front. Growing up in a hard-working town I thought that meant outworking everyone and doing whatever it took to be better. Another issue was that I was a “people pleaser.” It’s hard to be driven and have people like you. It can cause a LOT of anxiety and disagreements.

I enjoy reading biographies and autobiographies. Especially of people in business, sports, entertainment that have pushed all of their chips into the middle of the table and said “I’m all in.” I have been too careful in my life and always had a Plan B to fall back on. Not those folks, they went for it at 100% and I have always admired that in successful people. This leaves to a balancing problem because I want a foot in both worlds. There are costs to be paid for either decision or path you follow.

Over time I developed and lived my own version of “success.” At different intervals in my life, it has looked differently. In school, I wanted to get great grades (not just good grades). I wanted to be one of the best on whatever sports team I was playing on. I wanted to make money so I could have my own independence. I wanted to date the very good-looking girls. I wanted to be the first to graduate from college in my family. I wanted to go to work in a suit and not in lamp black stained pants and shirts. I had a weird goal of never punching a time clock. I wanted to travel and see the world because I had rarely been out of Akron as a kid. I wanted to live in a big city and experience that way of living. By the age of 25, I had accomplished all of these things. The problem was is that I thought it was going to take a lot longer! Perhaps my goals and priorities weren’t as big a deal as I first thought.

My wife and I started our family when I turned 27 and we had three children in five years. My girlies and my family were now a priority and I wanted to give them the best that I could. I was traveling all over the country and gone a lot. My workdays were consistently 14 to 16 hours long. The bills were increasing on the nice home, cars, vacations and private schools. I thought if I could outwork everyone to get ahead then at some point things would level out. I knew I was missing out but my goals to succeed and achieve was taking over. The more I did, the more I wanted to do and experience. There are still just 24 hours in a day, and I was squeezing everything I could into each day as possible. Looking back, I seemed to equate busyness and value. It was starting to take a toll, but I was determined to succeed. If only a day could be increased to about 30 hours I could get a little sleep.

In my mid-thirties I read a small but influential book called “Tyranny of the Urgent” by Charles E. Hummel after a recommendation from some guys at church who were running the race like I was. The tyranny of the urgent refers to the constant pressure we feel from immediate tasks and demand, often overshadowing what’s truly important. I was certainly caught in the tyranny of the urgent and needed to prioritize my life so that things felt back in synch. How hard could that be? Umm…REALLY HARD.

Today’s blog will be about My Escape from the Tyranny of the Urgent. What it took for it to happen and how it has changed me. How I now distinguish between urgent and important tasks. Urgent tasks being those than demand immediate attention, while important ones contribute to long-term goals.

But First…A Joke:

A guy spots a sign outside a house that reads “Talking Dog for Sale.” Intrigued, he knocks on the door and inquiries about the dog. The dog’s owner whistles and calls, “Harry!”

Harry the dog runs over. “So,” the prospective buyer says to the dog, “what kind of life have you led?”

“A very full one,” Harry responds. “I’ve lived in the Alps, where I recued avalanche victims. Then I served my country in Afghanistan. Now I spend my days lecturing at schools and reading to nursing home residents.”

The guy can’t believe it. He asks the owner, “Why would you want to sell this incredible dog?”

The owner says, “Because he’s a liar! He never did half of those things!”

Bonus Dad Joke:

Q: Why do you never see hippos hiding in trees?

A: Because they are very good at it.

I’ll show myself out….

A Verse to Contemplate:

My dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless - I Corinthians 15:58

Have I Told You This One?

In John 17, Jesus declared, “I have finished the work which Thou gavest Me to do.” His example teaches us to focus on what matters most, rather than succumbing to the urgent demands of the moment.

I decided I needed to focus and prioritize what I was doing so that I could come back to a balanced life. What’s the first step? I need to better understand my priorities. What they should be versus what they are. As I understand it a person’s priorities should be in the following order: God, family, health, friends, and work. Mine were not in that order so I started to do things that would re-prioritize my life.

One of those things was joining an accountability group with like-minded men that were striving to do the same as me. We started meeting every Saturday morning about 25 years ago. My top four accountability items were the following: (1) Building true sabbath into my life and making it a priority, (2) Focus on my thought life and make it pure, (3) financial accountability, and (4) build a relationship with my brother. All topics were “in play” but these four would be asked about every Saturday morning and I was to give a report on how those went for the week. I recently found some old notes from the first time we started meeting and I was somewhat surprised when the top four were pretty much the same 25 years later. Trying Ain’t Doing!

I also starting a reading program including books on time management, relationships, finding balance, sabbath plans, and many others. Apparently, I thought buying the books and putting them on my office bookshelf was good enough because I didn’t have time to read them because I kept volunteering for new things that filled whatever gaps in my time I had opened. I was an elder at church, coach, mentor, speaker, missionary, neighbor, father, husband, son, brother, social activist, home repair person, and many other “urgent” titles that “needed” done by me and me alone! Busy = Value, right?!

For years I talked with my buddies and was challenged by them to find space and sabbath in my life. I would nod my head and promise to do better. I did incrementally improve but honestly did not fully commit to change because I didn’t want to change. What else could it be?

On August 22, 2021, the life I was living and the identity I had spent 60 plus years inventing stopped. The love of my life was called home to eternity, and I was all of the sudden alone with a lot of questions and very few answers. I do not believe for a second that He brought her home to “slow me down” but His plan will be worked, and this is all part of that.

I worked for the first year after she passed but decided to retire at the end of 2022. I found it very difficult to concentrate and just didn’t feel the overriding need to succeed anymore. I thought that 40 years was enough and that it was time to do something different. I didn’t know what that was, but I knew I didn’t want to continue doing what I was doing. So, after 62 years it was time to re-invent me. I have zero idea of how that is supposed to work. My original plan was to heal up physically, spiritually and emotionally and determine what my next steps would be. Two years later I’m still working on it.

What I do know is that I am different (stop laughing!). Different in a lot of ways from what I was before. The “old me” was very extroverted and loved being around people. The more the better! I liked telling stories and listening to stories. Catching up with people was always fun. I would hardly ever “run out of gas” and would likely be the last one to go home. Now I’m different, WAY different. I am not nearly as social as I used to be. I run out of gas a lot quicker and being around a lot of people makes the walls close in on me. When that hits, I just need to leave and be by myself.

A very good friend in my accountability group told me that I had hurt his feelings because I left his birthday party recently without saying goodbye. I apologized and told him that I didn’t mean to hurt him but when it’s time for me to go, I got to go. I hope he understands but frankly there is nothing I can do about it at this point. When it’s time, I’m gone. I’ve never been this way, so it is very hard for me to deal with. My introverted friends nod their heads when I explain this to them, they get it. I feel like I’m in a pitch-black room searching for the light switch.

On the positive side, I am quite comfortable with my decision to retire and to take almost all activity out of my schedule. I do not miss the work grind. I thought I would, but I do not. I do not miss being stuck in traffic several hours every day. I do not miss deadlines, flight schedules, dealing with difficult clients and co-workers. Just drive down I-75 toward Atlanta if you want to see some people who are stuck in the tyranny of the urgent. I’m not sure what’s next, but I can guarantee you it is not that for yours truly!

I now take the time to ease into my day by taking an hour or so and reading my Bible and other books. I pray slower and longer. I see things differently. I try and prioritize and distinguish between the urgent and the important. I plan just enough social interaction to not make me uncomfortable. I have built a sabbath day into my schedule where I shut off my phone, television and computer and just sit and be quiet. It’s harder than you think. I plan for important tasks even if they don’t seem urgent. I have learned to sit on my hands when people ask for a volunteer. I focus on my long-term goals and give someone else a shot (even if I think I can do it better!).

In closing, I want to share a recent experience God allowed me to have to let me know that He is in all of this. I was serving on a Tres Dias weekend and during one of our meetings we got word that one of our friends, a pastor, had fallen during a service while preaching and was being rushed to the hospital in an effort to save his life. It turned out that he had been declared dead but revived at the hospital from a heart attack at the age of 43. We prayed, his church prayed, his family prayed, and God answered those prayers and he survived. In fact, on the way home from the hospital he stopped at his church and spoke with the congregation! I ran into him over the weekend, and we sat down and talked for a while. I couldn’t believe I was looking at him and speaking with him. He shared the experience with me and how it has had a major impact on what is important to him. I gave him a hard handshake and hugged his neck and told him how happy I was for him and how I was looking forward to seeing what God had planned for him after this.

As I was walking away, I realized that it took me losing almost everything to slow me down too. It is still a daily battle, but the scales have indeed dropped from my eyes about the tyranny of the urgent. I do not feel less valuable because I’m not running myself ragged anymore. I’m hopeful of the future but a bit stuck and lost at the moment. God is with me (and you) in our lives. Let’s help each not to miss the important for the urgent.

God Bless!

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, lead me to Your deep well of love. Teach me to know the difference between the empty pleasures the world offers and the true contentment I can find only in You.

Book Recommendation:

Balance - A Story of Faith, Family, and a Life on the Line by Nik Wallenda with David Ritz (2013)

Music Recommendation:

Texas Sugar by Chris Duarte (1994)

♪♪♪ When I’m 64 ♪♪♪

This past Sunday, I finished another trip around the sun and by God’s grace I was able to celebrate my 64th birthday. I was away on a Tres Dias retreat in the Georgia mountains with a group of about 125 friends and fellow travelers. Some that knew me better came up and wished me a happy birthday and most didn’t until someone spilled the beans and then the whole place sang me the Happy Birthday song.

Birthdays are odd when you get a smidge older, for me anyway. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but on the other hand it was nice that some folks remembered. Like most birthdays, I spent a little time reflecting and trying to come to grips that I was one of the older guys in the room and that I’m closer to 70 than I am to 50. That part is tougher to accept and embrace.

I received two actual birthday cards in the mail. One from my friend and financial planner (thank you Terry) and the other from a Tres Dias brother that never forgets (thank you Bob). I did receive many messages on my Facebook page and some on my phone. Again, we celebrate differently now.

My kids are pushing the age that my mind’s eye tells me that I am. However, the mirror brings me back into reality. At this age, I am a Grampy, a widower, a retiree, a seasoned professional, and I was alive when the Browns won their last championship (barely). The Tribe hasn’t pulled it off in my lifetime. All these things point to being an “older person.” I have been out of high school for over 45 years. I’ve been out of college for over 40. I watched cell phones and personal computers become a thing. If I was trying a legal case, I would say, “the prosecution rests” at this point. The defense has their job cut out for them.

During the retreat, one of the guys that was giving a talk got up and pointed to those of us along the “leadership wall” and encouraged the “younger guys” that they needed to step up because the “older guys” aren’t going to be around forever. We all spit out our cod liver oil and had a good giggle.

Clint Eastwood was asked how he keeps acting and directing while he is 93. His response was “Don’t Let The Old Man In.” I get it. It is a battle and if you are not up to it, you will get beat. I hate to lose, at ANYTHING. So, I keep fighting but the battle takes a bigger bite out of me than it used to. However, the alternative is nothing I want to be involved in. There will be plenty of time for checkers and bingo.

Today’s blog will be about my thoughts on growing older but not wanting to be old and to being very thankful for an opportunity to use my life experiences and to get to keep waking up every morning and trying to add value to my life and the lives of others.

But First…A Joke:

A major league ballplayer sits down for an interview with a reporter. They discuss his favorite athletes, what inspired him to become a ballplayer, and what advice he would give to younger players. Finally, the reporter asks, “What three things would you want people to say about you when you are gone?”

He thinks for a minute before answering. “At my memorial, I hope that my family recalls that I was a wonderful husband and father. I’d want my fans to say that I’m not only talented, but inspiring - that I made a difference in their lives. But most of all, “he continues, as a reporter leans in, “I’d want someone at my funeral to say about me, ‘Look! He’s moving!”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” - John 13:7

Have I Told You This One?

John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote a song with The Beatles back in the 1960’s called When I’m 64. Written by 20-year-old musicians during the turmoil of the 1960s, I’m sure that they didn’t think they would still be putting songs out when they got to the vintage old age of 64. The lyrics are as follows:

When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a Valentine
Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I'd been out 'til quarter to three
Would you lock the door?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older too
And if you say the word
I could stay with you

I could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights have gone
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds
Who could ask for more?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear
We shall scrimp and save (shall scrimp and save)
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck and Dave

Send me a postcard, drop me a line
Stating point of view
Indicate precisely what you mean to say
Yours sincerely, wasting away
Give me your answer, fill in a form
Mine for evermore

Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four?

Whoo!

Mick Jagger was once quoted that he could not imagine being 45 years old and touring around singing Satisfaction. Now he is in his eighties doing it. You don’t see as many songs being written about enjoying being older, wiser and content. It’s usually younger people trying to look out in the future and having to live the horror of becoming their parents age or (GASP) their grandparent’s age. Why is that? I’m guessing songs about slowing down and being able to get 10% off of your hotel room doesn’t sell as many records as songs about partying, being wild and chasing wine, women and song. Can I share some advantages that I have enjoyed over the past decade or so?

I think as I have gone through the different decades and phases of life it seems like I lose certain things but pick up new things and experiences that come for a season until I transition to the next one (God willing). Some of the “cool” things about being on the back side of the bell curve are:

• Being friends with my kids - When you shift from the authoritative parent mode to the grown equals and friends mode. I still have to be the parent but it’s different and I can be an encourager and mentor.

• Being able to help raise another generation - I love spending time with the grands. I don’t want to be the old geezer but the fun Grampy that has funny stories and wise advice.

• Being able to truly see what is valuable in life - I value time a LOT more than I used to. I wish I would have listened to older folks that tried to teach me this when I was growing up.

• Being proud of my friends - I have been blessed with some great people in my life and I enjoy visiting and hearing their stories. We have led some amazing lives and have achieved a bunch.

• Being able to help people - Having the assets and experiences to help people make good decisions and to give grace to those who have made some bad ones.

• Being able to explain what good music sounded like - That’s an old guy thing to say, but unfortunately, it’s true. I envision us all sitting in the assisted living tower arguing which bands were better than others.

The best thing about getting older is that if the Almighty sees fit to gift me another day is that I get to live another day and try and Shock the World and make a difference. Don’t waste a single day my good friends. Don’t Let the Old Man In!

The world still needs you and me even When We Are 64!!

A Prayer:

Father, strengthen me when I do not understand what you are doing, grow my faith and give me the confidence and vision to seek You. Teach me to be quiet and to listen to You and to meditate on how You have loved and provided in the past and to stand on Your promises. Keep the darkness away and fill me with Your Spirit and lead me into Your light.

Book Recommendation:

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (2016)

Music Recommendation:

Whitford/St. Holmes by Brad Whitford and Derek St. Holmes (1981)

The Silence Is Deafening

On my last trip back to Akron I took some time to visit my dad and mom’s gravesite. They are interned at the Ohio Western Reserve National Cemetary in Seville, Ohio. For me it is humbling to go to that place and see all the headstones and consider all the lives that are represented there. Thankfully, my dad did not pass while serving the U.S. in Korea. The fighting was mostly over when he went in 1957 or so. Mom is buried with dad due to his service to our country.

One of the things that hits me every time I go there is how quiet it is there. It is so quiet that typically all I can here is the sound of the massive flags being whipped around by the wind. There is not much there to stop the wind. It is a massive site literally in the middle of corn fields of northeast Ohio. The silence is deafening for sure.

I was raised at a time when I heard stories about World War II from my grandparents and others that were their age. This generation is often referred to as the Greatest Generation. To me, what they did was totally amazing, and I can’t imagine that it would ever happen again. I also heard stories of Korea and Vietnam. I was old enough to know people who served, and also old enough to realize the impact on their lives once they returned. I was too young to serve in either of those wars but I was coming of age and remember how it tore the country apart. My Uncle Marlin was there and I stayed with my Grandmother (his mom) a lot and we would watch the TV looking for him and we would wait for any information. I also remember seeing the daily scroll of names of those soldiers that had given the ultimate in a faraway land. I remember seeing my grandma cry when she did not see my uncle’s name on the scroll but then hurting so deeply for those families that were not so fortunate.

Fast forward many years and now the first shots fired in the middle east and Afghanistan were televised and live streamed. They also showed planes being shot down and our pilots being dragged through the streets and then their bodies burned. I was able to see people murdered in their towns and villages with a click of my mouse. On the news every night they had the death-o-meter going which tallied the number of brave men and women that had paid the highest price for me and others in this country to be free.

As Memorial Day approaches for 2024 I am even more humbled than most years because as a 60ish year old I have seen and experienced enough to fully realize the sacrifice these men and women have paid over the years. Our country and world are a better place because of their sacrifice and yes, the silence is deafening.

Memorial Day is a day to remember those we owe more than we can ever repay. This isn’t for those that have served, which we should be very thankful as well, but for those who didn’t come back home after kissing their loved one’s goodbye and hugging their mom’s and begging them to not worry even though they knew they would. It was 18-year-olds that were in a carrier headed for Normandy hearing bullets pinging off the outside and were throwing up because the sea was so rough. They were ordered to go once the door dropped and they ran INTO the fire, and some scaled a mountain to stop the enemy. It was guys not much older than me at the time that were in hot jungles taking fire from every possible direction.

I try and juxtapose myself as a teenager going through basic training and learning how to kill and being shipped off to some foreign land that I couldn’t pick out on a globe to fight for the American way of life and to be the good in a real shitty world. It scares me and I can’t thank these people enough…EVER!

Today’s blog will be some of my thoughts, for whatever they are worth, on the price of freedom and hopefully a reminder to me and others that it is impossible to pay them back, but I would sure like to put all of the arguing and debating aside and stop for one day and take a knee to honor the memories of these brave men and women who answered the call.

But First…A Joke:

Two pirates meet up in a pirate bar. The first one, Graybeard, has a patch over one eye, a hook for a hand, and a wooden peg leg. “Ahoy!” says the other pirate, Long John. “What happened to ye since last I say ye?” “Arrr”, says Graybeard. “Me pirate ship was attacked, and a lucky shot made me lose me leg. So now I got this peg.” “What about ye hand?” asks Long John. “When me ship sank, a shark bit me hand off. Now I got me this hook.” “Why the eye patch?” “I bes standin’ on a dock, and the biggest seagull I ever saw poops in me eye.” “Ya went blind from seagull poop?” “Nay,” says Graybeard. “It was me first day with the hook.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

If You, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you - Psalm 130: 3-4

Have I Told You This One?

Never having served myself, I am in awe of the guts and courage it takes for someone in the military to make the commitments that they do. I was born “in between” and was too young for Vietnam and too old for Operation Desert Storm, so I never had to make that decision or had to go through the stress and anxiety involved.

I see the world around me today and it has many things in common to what was going on in the 70’s. There are many that oppose the wars and protest. I also know that many in this world do not look at things like I do and/or were not raised like I was. My dad taught me to have the upmost respect for them and if I didn’t, he let me know about it. I stand for the anthem, I take my hat off, I keep my mouth shut and pay attention. It hurts me to see the disrespect that some give in these moments.

But the truth is that the people that served and gave all were all not doing it for the same reasons. Some were faithful believers, some were atheists, some had different ideas on what freedom meant to them, some had different political leanings, some were good people, and some were not. Some were flag wavers, some couldn’t wait to get out, some were racists, some were drug users and drunks, some were straight, and some were not.

Today, the silence is definitely not deafening. We, as a people, argue and debate over some of the most asinine things. The kids with lime green hair are similar to the hippies back in the 60s and 70s. Everyone thinks they know the best way and the fact is we mostly do not.

The sacrifices and effort should be honored regardless of what we agree on or what we don’t agree on. I don’t think the American flag should ever be disrespected, burned. Others don’t think that way. I think they are grossly wrong but that’s the thing about freedom, it covers a lot of stuff that I will never agree with. I must take the horrible with the great. I find it inconceivable that a person could go up to someone’s family that had a man or woman that died in service to this country and be anything but respectful and thankful, but there are. Again, I think they are wrong, but that freedom was paid for too.

My wish for this Memorial Day is that we really stop and think about what it means. Why do we even celebrate this? In my mind, it is to honor those brave souls that were lost fighting for me and you. Thank you seems so small, but I can’t thank all of them enough for their sacrifice and I will always be thankful and respectful.

The silence in the cemetery is the price of freedom and it is very expensive.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for giving me permission to cry out to You in times of trouble and to bring my doubts and questions before You. Lead me to Your truth that will set me free.

Book Recommendation:

Simplify. Ten Practices to Unclutter Your Soul by Bill Hybels (2014)

Music Recommendation:

Bridge Across Forever by Transatlantic (2001)

Just One More…Please!

I’ve been a Grampy for six years now. I must admit that I am very surprised how great it is. Before it happened, I had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I was fearful that it would make me “feel old.” On the other hand, I got to witness a new generation come into the world and this one was a lot of my doing, for better or worse. My late wife Michelle had absolutely zero issues with it and couldn’t wait. Many of my friends that became grandparents before us just lit up when they talked about it. It was consistent. I never heard anyone complain with maybe the one exception that we didn’t have the energy we had when we were bringing our kids into the world. There really aren’t many things better than holding your kid’s kid and once they get old enough, they come running and give you a hug. It must be said that it is also pretty cool to hand them back when they smell funny, cry too much or need to go to bed.

I got to spend a day watching my three-year old grandson a few weeks ago while his parents went to enjoy a day out. I get excited about hanging with him because I enjoy the opportunity to be a part of his life and development. To spoil him, to have fun, to eat things we probably shouldn’t and to find things to do. One thing for sure, he doesn’t fall for Grampy saying “let’s play the quiet game!” There is absolutely no interest in that!

I also enjoy sitting back and observing a little guy that hasn’t been changed by the world yet and see a person that is truthful and hasn’t learned to harm others. Don’t get me wrong, we are all born into this world, and it impacts all of us, even the wee ones. But it is refreshing to just listen to him and watch how he responds to things going on around him. He is very much a “clean slate” and is young enough not to know all of the danger that there is going on around him. A blessing for sure.

So, I take advantage of the day with my Grand Stud, and we go watch my other grandson play baseball. Then we hit Walmart to pick up some Hot Wheels (he only has about 5,000). Then we go to a favorite Mexican restaurant for some lunch and then hit the ice cream stand for a cone (don’t tell your mom and dad that one!). We are having a big ole day and Grampy is on track to get him home in time for a nap I know he is not going to take. But duty calls so we head to the house, and I give him a hug and let him know that it is time for a nap. He wants to watch a cartoon first (shocker!). So, I try and figure out the big screen TV and all the apps and after I fail miserably (even after my kids told me what to do) I hand the clicker to the Grand Stud and he hits two buttons and Shazam, we have Bluey on a 60” screen. I mumble something under my breath and head to the fridge to get a snack to bribe him with.

After Bluey hits the big finish, I look him in the eye and say, okay time is up. Time to hit the sack for a nap. Now, we have all done this ourselves, our kids have done it and now the grands. He hits Grampy with “Just One More…PLEASE GRAMPY!! (puppy dog eyes, hugs, promises, the whole shebang). I don’t cave immediately, but I’ve taken a serious hit, and the legs are wobbly. I stay strong and chase him around the house for five minutes. Just One More…Please!! (Now, it’s getting ugly, and he kicks into pouting, fake crying, and loud pleading). I stay “strong” and work up a compromise. I will lay down with him for a little bit and read him a story. Guess what happened after that story? Just One More…Please!!

I finally realize that I am the adult in the room (stop laughing!) and put my foot down and beg him to go to sleep and if he does, I’ll pay for his college. He sees that as a decent trade off and I slip out of the room and head for the couch in the living room where the dogs and cats now want a piece of me. Seriously?!

As I was cleaning up the toys and other sundry messes the Grand Stud left so I could tell his parents how easy he was to watch him so they will let me do it again, I got to thinking about my precious little grandson. We are not too different, are we? How many times in my life have I asked for Just One More…Please? I want to stay up and have fun, I want to avoid pain and just do the fun, easy things. I want to avoid change. I want to stay in the good times and away from the hard times.

As the Stud was faking sleep, I sat and really thought about how my day with him was very reflective of the last several years of my life. Today’s blog will be about some life lessons my three-year old grandson taught ole Grampy and what I learned from a day with him one-on-one.

But First…A Joke:

A Xichigan fan goes ice fishing for the first time. While waiting for a bite, he hears a mysterious, booming voice say, “There are no fish under the ice!” The man ignores it, moves spots, cuts a hole, and starts fishing again. Once more, the voice says, “There are no fish under the ice!” He looks up and says, “Lord?” “No,” the voice says. “I’m the ice rink manager!”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. Psalm 139: 7-10

Have I Told You This One?

As I sat there thinking about what just happened, I thought to myself that if I hadn’t done something to change the way he was working me, he would have likely “Just One More-ed” me forever. This, of course, is not news to me or anyone but still an interesting piece of all of us. The motivation is what is intriguing to me. Is it a control thing, immaturity, a lack of understanding, jealousy, weakness, laziness, envy? What exactly?

I did the same things to my parents when I was growing up and I think I do the same things to God now, albeit it’s not more Bluey or snacks but things like one more good report from the doctor, one more year to work at a certain salary, one more day of vacation before I have to return to reality, one more day of peace, one more friend, one more “hey look at me.” And let’s not even talk about a Super Bowl from the Browns or a baseball crown from the Tribe.

The biggest “One More” for me over the past several years has been One More day with Michelle, One More time to hear her voice, One More time to hold her hand, One More time to hug and kiss her. You get the idea.

Those things are never going to happen, and things are never going back to the way they were no matter how many times I ask and plead. That’s obvious to a lot of you I’m sure but grieving really messes with you. It’s taken me the better part of three years to face that truth. In addition, I have realized that we never stay the same, we always change no matter how hard we fight it. Am I trying to stay in the past where life was easier? Moving on is hard, but necessary.

His ways are not my ways as Scripture points out very clearly. Faith comes moving forward not from staying in the past, no matter how much I loved it. I have been doing the same thing to God as the Grand Stud did to me and I can’t keep doing it. He has plans for me. I’ve never felt like God was punishing me. Very few people have an “easy” life. Mine is no different but some days I want to throw down and yell…ENOUGH ALREADY! Most of us struggle. The truth is He doesn’t waste our pain and He is with us as we journey through the hard times and challenging circumstances.

What the Grand Stud helped me with was seeing that he and I are never going to be happy and content all the time. If I got one more day with her, I would want more, a LOT more. If I got to hold her hand again, I’d never let go. If I got to hear her voice one more time, I’d never let her stop.

I absolutely hate the phrase “the new normal.” If I hear it one more time, I am afraid that I may go medieval on that person. In the sense that I am never going back to the way things were, it is true, I do have a new normal. I didn’t ask for it, I don’t want it and I don’t like it, but His ways are not my ways.

The Grand Stud woke up from his “nap” and wanted to play Hot Wheels with Grampy, so Grampy got off the couch and played Hot Wheels with my buddy. As I look at him and give him a hug and a smooch, I whisper a thank you and he looks at me like I’m having a stroke. Let’s play Grampy…One More Time…Please!!!

You got it buddy, you got it.

A Prayer:

Spirit of God, I take great comfort in knowing that wherever I go I will be in Your presence. Help me to run to You rather than from You when I feel unworthy.

Book Recommendation:

The Five Wishes of Mr. Murray McBride by Joe Siple (2018)

Music Recommendation:

Rites of Summer by Spyro Gyra (1988)

Naked at the Mall

First of all, this is not a story about a really weird dream after eating pizza right before bed with a NyQuil chaser. With Mother’s Day coming up I was trying to remember a story about some of the special women in my life that are mothers and this one popped into the odd and disturbed memory banks of yours truly.

My late bride Michelle and I started our family after about five years of marriage. When we got married, I was still finishing my degrees at the University of Akron, and she was clerking at the Akron probate court. We were paying the rent, filling the gas tank of one car, buying a few groceries and setting aside $20 for our date night on Friday evenings. After we were married, I finished my undergrad studies after a year and a half of marital bliss, and we decided in move to Atlanta where we thought the grass might be a bit greener for us.

Once we got to Atlanta, we both found work. I was trying my luck as a valuation consultant with an international valuation company headquartered in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and Michelle went to work as a legal secretary for a large law firm in the Georgia Pacific tower in downtown Atlanta. We were paying rent. filling the gas tank of one car, buying a few groceries and setting aside $20 for our date night on Friday evenings (sound familiar?). We were also setting aside as much money as we could in savings to purchase our first home.

We started our “Family in Five” plan which was our initial five-year plan in 1982 as a couple trying to establish a little place in the world for some more Rutledge’s. Lord knows we needed a bunch more of those! By 1984 in Atlanta, money was extremely tight (as it had been our whole lives up to then) but it felt like we were making progress and were on point to be successful in completing our five-year plan. The big points of the plan were (1) to get established in Atlanta, (2) find some good jobs and get into a good financial position, (3) start a family with some children, and (4) Shock the World.

We were blessed with our first child in 1987. Now, you may be thinking that we were right on schedule. However, the original plan was to start trying to have children after five years. Instead, we were parents almost right at five years. Close enough for us! We were very happy, and we had accomplished the first three mileposts and were working on the fourth. We had purchased our first home in the northwest suburbs. Child number two and three arrived over the next three years and by 1992 we were a family of five. I talk with some friends, and we all shake our heads and wonder how we did it all but back then it was like a big adventure. Being in my twenties and early thirties didn’t hurt either!

The promotions and raises started to happen at a good pace and once our oldest daughter was getting ready to enter school, Michelle decided that she wanted to be a stay-at-home mother and pour into them through education and other means. It would be a financial hit for sure, but we both agreed that this is what was best for our family.

Being able to look back on it now just makes it seem pretty crazy but when you are both pulling on the same side of the rope as a team with clear goals and the right motivation, it isn’t really all that tough of a decision. Like many before us we were dedicated to make it work and with God’s help and vision it was happening.

However, it is not without its challenges. Over time, the grind is difficult and increasing the kiddy pool to three had an exponential impact on the effort and lack of sleep and other fun things to do. I was traveling quite a bit at that time which left Michelle flying solo a good deal of the time. She didn’t complain (a lot) but I could tell it was taking its toll on her and I wanted to do nice things as often as possible to give her breaks. I didn’t say I was great at that, but I tried.

Today’s blog is about one of those times I tried to be a good hubby to my favorite girl and found myself Naked at the Mall as a result! Stick around, I think you’ll get a snicker out of this one.

But First…A Joke (or three):

I had been out drinking on St. Patrick’s Day, so I took a bus home. That may not be a big deal to you, but I’ve never driven a bus before.

What did the turkey say to the turkey hunter? Quack! Quack! Quack!

What’s green, has four legs, and if it fell out of a tree, could kill you? A pool table!

I’ll show myself out…..

A Verse to Contemplate:

Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up - Proverbs 12:25

Have I Told You This One?

In full transparency, I can become laser focused (stop laughing!) at work and traveling and things like Mother’s Day gifts on this particular year “snuck” up on me. I was heading downtown for work one morning and someone on the radio stated that it was getting late to get Mother’s Day gifts. Instant anxiety! I had let deadlines and other responsibilities have higher priority than I should have. But the next commercial would save the day. There was a day spa company in Atlanta that was advertising couples massages for Mother’s Day and one of their locations was at a mall that was only a few miles from the Rutledge Estate. BOOM!

I whip the Family Truckster into the mall on my way home and buy the Couples Message “package” which came in a nice red card. In my mind, this was going to be MUCH better than the cheesy card and Kroger flowers which was my usual.

Again, in full transparency, I had never had a massage and I never wanted a massage. The reality that I had now placed myself as a working part of this gift was starting to settle in. My only prior knowledge of massages was what I saw at the YMCA downtown when I was a little guy. Some big ole boy in all white working somebody over on a table. I had also noticed that there were a number of massage places around in retail areas that all seemed to be operated by folks from the Orient. I had also heard that those massages were quite different from what I had signed up for. Okay, now I’m really apprehensive. The time rolls around for our trip to the day spa at the mall. Michelle is pumped and I want to get a root canal or anything else than go to this thing. What had I done?

We head to the mall. I’m looking around to make sure no one I know spots me and at the same time I’m smiling at Michelle and saying things like “Isn’t this fun?” If there ever was a time, I wanted to hear trumpets and see Jesus coming back through the clouds, it was NOW.

As we walk into the spa (in the mall), we are met by a couple Swedish looking people, one male and one female and are introduced to them and asked which one we would like to do the massage. I instantly hit panic mode. I definitely don’t want the dude, but I don’t want to be rude so being a gentleman, I let Michelle pick first. Thank God, she took the dude and not the lady! So, me and Elsa head to the room and Michelle and Hugo head to the one next door.

Ms. Elsa tells me to get undressed and get on the table and she will knock before she comes back in to let me know she’s coming back to start. She also takes out a few pieces of a removeable wall and I see Michelle in her room (I guess this is why they call it a Couples Massage). She can tell I’m freaking out and starts laughing. I ask her, “Am I supposed to be naked?”. She gulps for air and says, “No, you big dummy, keep your skibbies on and get under the towel. I relax a bit, that makes sense. I can still hear her laughing and snorting.

Ms. Elsa knocks and turns on some New-Agey music and explains what is going to happen and starts the massage. I look in the next room and I’m not thrilled that Hugo is putting his hands on my wife (and I’m paying for it!). What have I done!

The lights are turned down and as she is doing her thing I instantly relax and start to enjoy this. In fact, I’m really frightened that I’m going to enjoy it WAY TOO MUCH (If you catch my drift). For the next hour I try every trick I know. I think about baseball, Dorthy Fuldheim (IYKYK), anything to keep my mind from going where it REALLY wants to go. At the end, it is so good that she had to wake me up. I felt like I would slither out of there like a snake. Yikes, it was awesome. I look over at Michelle and she is likewise. I snicker at her and say, “Happy Mother’s Day and thank you for all you do for us”. She told me to shut up and quit killing her buzz.

So that’s how I ended up Naked in a Mall. That was my first and only time. The next Mother’s Day I went back to a cheesy card and Kroger flowers.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I receive Your gift of today. Help me to joyfully carry out Your will in all I do today. Give me a heart of thanksgiving even in the difficult times.

Book Recommendation:

Never Walk Away - Lessons on Integrity from a Father Who Lived It by Crawford W. Loritts, Jr. (1997)

Music Recommendation:

Wes Bound by Lee Ritenour (1993)

Who Inspires You?

Hello my friends and welcome back to my blog, the first one for May 2024. The year seems to be zipping right along as we near the midpoint of the year. Summer is right around the corner, and I think I have gratefully survived another pollen filled Spring in Atlanta.

I want to ask you a question as a way of starting the time together today. The question is this…. Who inspires you? Close your eyes and spend a few moments and really think about the person or persons that inspire you. Focus on those that inspire you the most and have made a significant impact on your life. There are no right or wrong answers so don’t worry about that. As you have your eyes closed (I’m assuming you haven’t closed them yet or you would not be able to read this!), think a little deeper and try and determine what it is about them that has fired you up. What is it with them that makes a difference in your life? Okay, go ahead and close your eyes and when you are done, open them and we can move on.

Thanks, and welcome back!

I was asked this exact question recently and I was fortunate enough to have many people in my life that inspire me or have inspired me in different ways and in different environments. As I sat and thought about the question one person quickly came to my mind and I focused on him. I would love to share an inspirational story in my life that has made me a much better person and very thankful for having this person in my life. Does that sound okay? First, a little backstory.

Back in 2017, my daughters and their husbands were over at our house for a family dinner. We have those from time to time to catch up and see how things are going with everyone. Michelle got to spend some time with her girlies (me too!) and I got to sit there feeling like a king on my throne of Rutledge Land and look around and literally count my blessings and enjoy my family. It gave us time to put the world on hold for a while and slow everything down and take a collective breath. I really enjoy those times and I was thrilled that my grown children wanted to spend time with me and their mother. What I didn’t know was that one of these girlies was about to make this day unforgettable.

I was given a gift with a card to open. I opened the gift, and it was a fruit bowl with blueberries in it. Odd gift for the old man but okay. I immediately thought that I must have opened the wrong gift, and that Michelle should have opened this one. My daughter Mallory looked at me funny and told me to read the card. Everybody was talking as I read the card. I couldn’t quite grasp what it meant so I read it again and then it hit me. The card said that a gift was coming later next year but at the moment it was about the size of a blueberry. Then it said, “Congratulations Grandpa and Grandma!” I looked at Mallory at Alex and asked, “Are you serious?” At that point everyone stopped talking and started asking “What dad?” I gave the letter to Michelle, and she got it on the first attempt and we both went over a hugged them! Then it got REALLY loud in the living room. They had kept it a secret from everyone, even her sisters. It was a monumental day in Rutland for sure.

For those who have experienced this, it is a tsunami of emotions. You have to come to grips that your kids are having kids, and you are about to be someone’s Grampy. I felt so happy but at the same time I was launched into the next phase of my life which was a bit humbling and exhilarating at the same time. We also found out that it was going to be a boy and that they were going to name him Preston James Woodward. Preston is my middle name and it has been passed down for generations. Since I was the oldest and we had all girls, the name was not going to be passed on to the next generation. I was so proud and honored that they would do that for me. They also named him after Alex’s dad James so we both were being highly respected. Preston would make it to another generation. On a side note, my brother’s son was also given the Preston middle name, so my brother stepped up too. He always made sure to take a shot that since I was not up to it, he had to come in and rescue the family! Well played sir.

As the months went by waiting for The Grand Dude to arrive, we had the usual baby showers and other assorted parties to prepare for the big day. We could not have been more excited. Mal and Al were also buying a new home which was going to be ready about the same time P-Man was due. There were a lot of details and plans to keep everyone busy, so the time seemed to zip by and before you know it, we got the call that they were at the hospital, and she was in labor. We all raced to the waiting room from all over the city and waited to see our grandson make his grand entrance. What an entrance it was!

This event would change our lives in so many ways. Sit back and enjoy this one!

But First…A Joke:

There was an elderly couple who, in their old age, were getting forgetful. They decided to go to a doctor. The doctor told them that memory loss is a normal part of aging, but that they should start writing things down so they don’t forget. They went home, and the woman asked her husband to get her a bowl of ice cream.

“You might want to write it down,” she said. “No, I can remember that you want a bowl of ice cream,” he replied. Then she told her husband that she wanted whipped cream on it. “Write it down,” she told him, and again he said, “No, no I can remember you want a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream.”

Then the woman said she wanted a cherry on top. “Write it down,” she told her husband, and again he said, “No, I got it. You want a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

He went to get the ice cream and spent an unusually long time in the kitchen. When he came out, he handed his wife a plate of eggs and bacon. His wife stared at the plate for a moment, then looked at her husband and asked, “Where’s the toast?”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth - Colossians 3:2

Have I Told You This One?

As we are all gathered in the waiting room, we realize that it seems to be taking a lot longer than we thought it would. The doctor came out and informed all of us that the baby was not cooperating and that if he didn’t arrive soon that they have to do a “C section.” This is not uncommon, and we prayed that Mal and Preston would be fine. This went deep into the night, and they advised us that he had decided to join the party. We were told that Mal was worn out and that we could come back the next day. I left without seeing my little buddy and handing out cigars would have to wait.

The next day I got off work a bit early and headed to the hospital to meet the Grand Dude. I stopped and picked up some sandwiches for the new parents and I got to hold my grandson for the first time. Unadulterated Bliss! They said he was crying more than they were comfortable with and were running some tests on him to make sure everything was good. I stayed until Michelle showed up and then headed home. As I pulled into the driveway, I got a call from one of the girls to let me know to get back to the hospital as soon as possible.

When I got back into the room it was a beehive of activity. Mal was inconsolable and was crying like I had never heard her cry before. Michelle was holding her and looked up at me with a look on her face that said, “this is very serious.” Preston was having seizures, and the doctors were looking at him, but they had told Mal and Al that he might have Cerebral Palsy, may be in a wheelchair his whole life and other awful potential outcomes. This hospital did not have a NICU so Michelle demanded that Preston be transferred to the Children’s Hospital in Atlanta that had all that he would need to be treated. They life flighted him to the Children’s Hospital and he was placed in the NICU.

The next day Mal was released from the hospital, and we drove her downtown to see Preston. Al had stayed the night with him. I can’t imagine how hard that was to leave without your newborn son. She was devastated. Once we reached the hospital, we found out that Preston had a large brain bleed, and they were doing all they could to save him. He had been having numerous brain seizures and was being examined to determine next steps.

The next steps turned out to be two separate brain surgeries to place a shunt in his brain to help drain the blood. He had the operations and then stayed a few months in the NICU. The pressure in his brain had caused hydrocephalus. Once the shunt was put in, we waited for what felt like 100 years to see if it was working. Thankfully it was. After his release there was a steady stream of visits to the ER and various doctors to check on his progress. By God’s grace his development was not stunted, and he was developing mentally and physically as hoped. It was awesome that he proved those first doctors wrong. My Grand Dude is a warrior, not just a tough little guy but a warrior with a warrior spirit.

In his first few years of life, he has had to have his appendix removed, he had a broken leg from a fall, he had Covid, and a few other procedures. He also had to wear a helmet for a year to help form his skull due to the brain bleed. He has been through various rehabilitations including physical therapy, music therapy, mental therapy. Our family is #teampreston and have pulled for him and prayed for him his entire life and God has been gracious and loving. His doctors marvel at how he has developed over the past six years.

All of this has happened while the family has gone through a lot of hardship and challenges, and it is easy at times to get the blues and to lose sight of our Hope and Strength. This past weekend Preston had severe headaches and was throwing up and he had to go to the ER for evaluation. The worst fear was that he would have to have another brain surgery related to the shunt. That fear was a reality, and he went in for a shunt revision procedure. Once again we prayed and hoped that he would come through this healthy and God heard our prayers. He came through with unbelievable success and he was back home in a few days wanting to go outside and play ball!

So, when the question was asked of me, who inspires you? My answer was a six-year-old boy that happens to be my grandson. A little boy that calls me Grampy. A little guy that loves monster trucks, Spiderman, Hot Wheels and doughnuts. A warrior that has been through three brain surgeries in six years and has dealt with more in his short life than most people ever have to deal with. A dude that is funny, smart and has a vocabulary of a thirty-year-old. A little boy that loves to play baseball and run the bases.

If I become half the warrior that this young man is I will be one tough son of a gun. I love you Grand Dude. Thanks for being such an inspiration to your Grampy.

A Prayer:

I praise You, my Deliverer! As I reflect on Your faithfulness, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for You. Fill me with the fresh wonder of Your love and empower me to trust You in the midst of adversity to overcome fear and live in freedom.

Book Recommendation:

Becoming A King (The Path to Restoring the Heart of a Man) by Morgan Snyder (2020)

Music Recommendation:

Moving Pictures by Rush (1981)

I’ll Be Coming Down the Mountain ♪♪♪

As I have written about in the past, I got the privilege to do some international traveling to various countries with a group of guys from church serving on a Business as Missions team. The team would educate potential entrepreneurs and fund their micro businesses and then also provide follow up and advice as they started their businesses. Today’s story will be about a trip I made to Darjeeling, India and will also provide further proof that you might want to do international travel with someone else!

I was originally scheduled to go back to India in March of 2007 but was unable to go due to a big snowstorm that hit the eastern U.S. and grounded flights.  Undaunted, we rescheduled our trip and took off in late May.  After traveling over 40 hours and nearly 8,000 miles including stops in New York, Brussels, Delhi and Guwahati, India we landed in Bagdogra, India where we switched to a car for the remaining part of the trip.

During the hot summer months Darjeeling is a resort area where people vacation to escape the oppressive heat of India. It also is home to the Toy Train which is a functioning smaller scale train that goes through the mountains. The view is really amazing as you can see Everest and K2 on a clear day as we are not too far away from Nepal. As compared to some of the other places we had stayed on previous trips to India, our hotel was quite nice and there was a lot to see and do when we were not conducting our classes and counseling.

I was on a two-man team from Fellowship Bible Church and our mission was to work with seven Bhutanese Christians who had successfully completed two prior phases of the program and were receiving additional education and business tools prior to receiving small business loans (primarily the net proceeds of money donated from supporters).  The loans are paid back to the local program which enables them to become self-sufficient and fund future projects.  These potential businesses enable their owners to expand God’s kingdom through outreach and local church growth while supporting their families. 

We were to meet up with the local team at the airport and were instructed to not leave the airport until they arrived to pick us up. This was before cell phones, and we really didn’t know the local guys that well yet. Me and my cohort Tom clearly looked out of place, and we were getting some interesting glances. When we didn’t clear the airport, we attracted the attention of the local police who came over with a drug sniffing dog and gave our bags the once over. That will tighten your stomach pretty quickly! I knew we didn’t have anything to be worried about, but crazy things happen all the time. They moved on and we exhaled. We finally noticed the rest of our team, so we left the airport and loaded up into the unimpressive chariot to take us on a three-hour drive 8,000 feet into the Himalaya Mountains up to Darjeeling.  This is where it starts to get exciting. Our journey starts and it felt like we were going straight up. The driver was apparently trying to set a new world record and we were flying. I had been previously warned about this and was smart enough to load up on Dramamine. Thank God.

I’m driving my fingernails into the arm rest as we twist and turn up the mountain. There are no guard rails, nets, or anything else to keep us from launching off the side of the mountain. I realized quickly that I had put my life in the hands of a total stranger. We listen to the conversation he is having with someone over a walkie talkie and then we stop. The chariot has overheated. We unpile and he opens the hood and steam charges out. He puts some water in the radiator and tries to assure us that everything is fine. I’m not easily convinced. After about an hour we reload and rocket the rest of the way up. It’s a good thing I brought extra skibbies, I’m going to need them!

After our week of serving our new friends and business partners we were able to fund all seven businesses!  Six were funding by us and the seventh was funded locally.  This was real progress since those that we funded in the past are now in a position to start reproducing the funding on their own and also able to offer advice and consulting.  The businesses included a cybercafé, dairy, goat farm, ice cream shop, and piggeries.

One neat memory is that I was having a conversation with a few guys during a break and right in the middle of it a cloud goes right by us. I stop talking with a puzzled look on my face and the other guys who were used to being high enough to be in the clouds told me “Yes, that was a cloud that just passed.” Not bad for a tire builder’s kid from Akron.

A potential stumbling block on missions’ trips is that there is a real challenge to focus on the task at hand (in this case, helping with business development) and get ahead of God and what HE has planned. It is easy to charge ahead in our own abilities and desires without catching a glimpse of the relationships and heart change that is of real value.

Today’s blog will be about how I was humbled by our Lord and then a wild ride back down the mountain. 

But First…A Joke:

Like a lot of dads, a friend of mine loved spending time with the kids when they were little and tried to take some of the burden off of his wife from time to time but being grossly unprepared, he would turn to her for advice on just about everything. One time when she was in the shower, he poked his head in the bathroom and asked, “What should I feed Emily for lunch?”

She replies, “that’s up to you.” “There’s all kinds of food. Why don’t you pretend I’m not at home?”

So, he went back downstairs and placed a call to her cell phone. She answers right away, and hears, “Yeah, hi, honey. Uh…. what should I feed Emily for lunch?”

A Verse to Contemplate:

“One who is gracious to a poor person lends to the Lord, And He will repay him for his good deed” - Proverbs 19:17

Have I Told You This One?

We had a small team of folks that helped us on this trip that included interpreters, local missionaries, local people that kept us from getting into too much trouble and friends of the mission. We like to thank them with an evening together before we all head back to our day-to-day lives. On our last night in Darjeeling, we all agreed to gather and see the new Indiana Jones movie at a local theater.  I had to check my emails at a local internet cafe and told the guys I would meet them at the theater so they left without me.

After I completed my correspondences, I headed down the street to the theater. To make up some time, I used a cut through which was a small uneven stone walkway down a pretty good grade. To make sure I didn’t wipe out I had to pay close attention to my steps on my way down. As I reached the bottom, I lifted my head and connected eyes with a man that I will never forget even if I live to be a thousand years old.

In school I had learned about the caste system that existed in India, but I never thought it was a real thing until this day. This poor soul had to be what is the lowest of the caste system, an untouchable. He was alone sitting next to a door that led to nowhere. No one would have anything to do with him. When our eyes met, he got up and came running over to me. He could hardly communicate and basically grunted and shouted at me. I was running late for the movie so I didn’t stop to talk with him. I had this feeling that I had really messed up that I couldn’t shake. I thought to myself, I’ve come halfway around the world to be a “missionary” and the time I get to actually be one I don’t because I’m late for a movie?! Matthew 25:40 states “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” I was disappointed in myself for choosing the good over the great.

During the movie, one of the missionaries was told by our local advisor that a traffic strike was going to happen the next day and that if we did not leave immediately, we would be stuck there for several days or perhaps a week.  Our flight home was scheduled for the next day, so we ran out of the theater, packed our bags and went looking for a driver to take us down the mountain. We were fortunate enough to find a hotel for the night through our local advisor at the bottom of the mountain.

We start down as dusk slips into darkness. His driving was so intense that I was positive that I was going to vomit from car sickness at any minute. I was sitting in the front death seat and this guy had two positions on the pedals, all the way down on the accelerator and barely touching the brake. I was experiencing total sphincter damage, and my nails were two inches deep into the dashboard. I’m not sure I took a breath all the way down! No guard rails, lights, etc. We saw one car overturned and people hurt, and we had to let trucks pass coming up that put us way too close to the edge several times. Tom was sitting behind me and could tell I was not having a good time and he reached up and squeezed my shoulders and started to say something smoothing. I turned around and threatened his life if he didn’t remove his hands from me!!

Mario Andretti got us down to our room for the night.  He asked us if we were going to need a ride the next day to the airport. We said yes and he slept in his car in the parking lot all night just to get our fare the next day. We got up in the morning and sure enough he was still there. We noticed that the traffic strike had indeed happened, and we did not know if we were going to make it to the airport. Mario told us to hop in and not to worry about it.

As soon as the tire hit the road a very angry military guy came over and started arguing with Mario. They would yell at each other and then look at Tom and me and eventually they let us go. At this point, I’m sure we are not going to make the four-mile trip to the airport. Thankfully we did make it to the airport, and we had four or five hours now to kill before the flight.

Once it was time to go through security, I put my bag on the conveyor and no issues. Then Tom tried and they stopped the belt and ran it again, then again, then again. I’m no help as I start making jokes and now Tom doesn’t want to be messed with. They keep looking for something and it starts to become entertainment for the entire airport. They totally empty Tom’s bag until they find this small lotion for cuts in a first aid kit that was wrapped in aluminum and was shaped somewhat like a bullet. He repacks in seconds, and we scramble for the plane and buckle up for the long trip home. Heavy exhale.

We broke up the flight home with an overnight stop in Brussels which was very cool. Once we got our hotel we jumped on a train and went to Bruges. Europe has the best train system I have ever seen. As I was a clueless American, I paid for general admission and got on the first-class section which the conductor immediately shooed me back where I was supposed to be. Can’t blame a guy for trying! We did some sightseeing and decided to get lunch on the town square which was awesome. Then back to Brussels and then back to home via New York.

I got to serve which I enjoy but this trip taught me to keep my focus on Him and to pay attention to what is going on around me. Hopefully, I never forget that lesson.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I admit that I often take on too much. Prompt me to bring all my burdens and anxieties to You. Teach me how to rest in You.

Book Recommendation:

Timeless - 10 Enduring Practices of Apex Leaders by Brian K. Dodd (2018)

Music Recommendation:

A Baker’s Dozen of Great Live Albums:

1. The Allman Brothers at Fillmore East - Allman Brothers (1971)

2. Live From The Royal Albert Hall - Joe Bonamassa (2010)

3. At Budokan - Cheap Trick (1979)

4. Made In Japan - Deep Purple (1973)

5. Once in a Livetime - Dream Theater (1998)

6. Live - Foghat (1977)

7. Frampton Comes Alive - Peter Frampton (1976)

8. Songs In the Attic - Billy Joel (1981)

9. Rock n Roll Aninimal - Lou Reed (1974)

10. Live! You Get What You Play For - REO Speedwagon (1977)

11. Live at the Agora Ballroom, Cleveland, Ohio 1978 - Bruce Springsteen & the E-Street Band (1978)

12. Back Stage Pass - Michael Stanley Band (1977)

13. Strangers in the Night - UFO (1979)

Tijuana Taxi

Once I graduated from THE University of Akron in 1983 the hard part started, trying to find a company that would take a chance on this handsome and completely green Zip fresh out of school. I looked for six months in my hometown of Akron, Ohio for just that very thing. The Rubber Capital of the World was going through a massive transition from a manufacturing center for the automobile industry to something else. It didn’t seem clear to me what the “something else” was going to be and to be honest it was probably one of the worst times in history to be looking for a job in Akron. Most of the tire companies were heading out of town and many people were finding themselves unemployed. I had been married for about a year and a half and it was time for me to fish or cut bait (as my Pop used to say).

Michelle and I did a lot of research and we decided to move to Atlanta, Georgia in early 1984. Atlanta was the total opposite of Akron at the time. It was a bustling boom town with tons of jobs and growth like I had never seen in my life. I found a company to take a shot on this “wet behind the ears” business tycoon with absolutely zero experience. I started work in February of 1984 at American Appraisal Associates which was headquartered in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and had about 1,000 employees worldwide. The office in Atlanta was one of the bigger satellite offices and we had about 50 or so appraisers performing valuations all over the United States and various spots around the world. I had never been anywhere prior to getting this job so it was pretty cool to be jumping on planes, staying in hotels, visiting big cities, seeing the country and realizing that people are the same everywhere you go. Unlike me, most of them had not heard of Akron, Ohio which was astonishing to me.

During my first month on the job, the company got a huge engagement in San Diego, California for General Dynamics, a defense contractor, and needed to put a team of about 100 folks to work for about six months. I had only been employed for about a month and now I had to go back to the apartment and tell Michelle that I was heading for California for the next six months. she had only been in Georgia for a few weeks. She took it like a champ and the next thing I know I’m on a LT11 heading for San Diego. Every third weekend I could come back home for three or four days and then I had to be back in California. Thankfully, she had her mom and sister come up and live with her while I was gone. They had found work as well so that part worked out a LOT better than I thought it was going to.

Once I arrived in San Diego, I found out that I was going to be living in a corporate apartment on Coronda Island. If you have ever been to Coronado, you know how beautiful it is! I was in a room with a guy from Minnesota that I had never met. We worked different shifts so both of us basically had the place to ourselves. After growing up in a smokestack city and now living on an island in the Pacific Ocean across from downtown San Diego was pretty heady stuff for a tire builders’ kid. To quote some scripture, It sucketh not.

I soon found out that most of guys there did not look at this assignment as a great opportunity but rather a pain in the rear that felt like a demotion. What did I know? I was having the time of my life and I was so new that I had no clue that this was not a GREAT gig but a mind numbing horrible assignment. I was new to the company and was looking at this as a way to show my new employer that they had made a wise investment in the Rutmachine. I hustled and this really torqued off the more senior guys because they were catching hell for being out worked by an FNG.

I met some guys from the home office in Milwaukee that became good friends and they decided to take me under their wings and keep me out of trouble (good luck with that!) and we commuted back and forth everyday from the apartments to the massive GD plants on the other side of the bridge.

Today’s blog will be about my first adventure in a Tijuana taxi and the adventures of your favorite tire builders’ kid on my trip to the lovely oasis of Mexico just across the border.

But First…A Joke:

About to have a blood test, this simple soul of a human nervously waited while the nurse tightened a tourniquet around his arm. “I understand you’re from Michigan,” she said. “Are you a Wolverines fan?” “Absolutely!” this simple fool replied. “Well,” she continued as she raised the needle, “this may hurt a little. I’m from Ohio, Go Bucks!”

A Verse to Contemplate:

“Blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man” - Luke 6:22

Have I Told You This One?

Have you ever been in a situation and you quickly realize that the world was a LOT bigger than you thought it was? That’s exactly what was happening to me. Our assignment took us into these huge manufacturing and engineering facilities. In one plant they were making cruise missiles. I walked in and I saw a million square foot plant stocked with these missiles stuffed together like people in a wedding reception. Another plant had a B-52 bomber that they were installing controls in. A third plant had a Saturn rocket being constructed. The machine tools that made these things were massive and I was in awe. Of course, we had to act like we saw this kind of thing on a daily basis but I’m not sure I pulled that off.

We worked six days a week and had Sundays off. They were long days but since it was so new to me the time flew by. After a few weeks the older guys were bored to death and wanted to do something other than work. My new buddies were over at my apartment one evening for dinner and they look at me and ask, “You ever seen a bullfight?” Not only had I never seen one I was so naive that I didn’t realize they still did those types of things. I thought that maybe in Spain, but I had no idea that they did it in Mexico. So, we decided we were going to check out the bull fights in Tijuana when Sunday rolled around.

We had a rental car for work and didn’t think it would be a good idea to risk something happening to it in Mexico, so we drove to the border and parked it and then walked across a bridge into Tijuana. As we go into the city, I kept seeing these young mothers with four or five little ones around her and they were begging for money and food. My older buddies advised me to not give them any money because they would be hitting us up the rest of the day. I thought that was awful and gave this cute little kid a quarter and immediately realized they were right. The kid army had found a softie and they wore me out all day.

The next guy to wear us out was the taxi drivers. We obviously didn’t look like we were from there so they would hit us up every 10 or 15 minutes for a ride anywhere. We had planned on shopping around the main strip for a while and then we were going to go to the bull ring for the matches. Back in 1984 when we walked down the strip there were stores everywhere and every price was a negotiation. I am not a fan of negotiating but my friends loved it and they worked hard to get the lowest prices possible on stuff like shoes, shirts, souvenirs, blankets and just about everything. Even the taxi rides were a negotiation. The dollar was really strong back then and you could get a good amount of stuff for not much. I started to wonder if we were being tracked as “ugly Americans” but it appeared as if this was the way it worked.

Another group of “interesting” people were the “gentlemen” working out in front of the seedy bars. They reminded me of the guys at the circus boardwalk trying to convince you to come in and see the tattooed lady or wolf boy. One guy literally grabbed me and tried to pull me into a place and he and I had a staring contest for a bit. Other than that it was a cultural experience that has stayed with me.

It was time to head to the bull fights, so we found the taxi driver that had been working us all day. we made his day when we said okay let’s go. He leads us a couple blocks off the main strip and we pile into this old beat-up Ford LTD that looked about 50 years old. My two buddies got in the back, and I sat in the front passenger seat. You ever aimed your backside to sit in a chair and once you sit down you realize the seat has no cushion whatsoever? I take my seat and immediately sink to the floor to where I am at eye level with the door lock. The guys in the back are laughing and as I turn to see them I realize I can’t see them since the head rest is blocking my view! I look over at our Tijuana taxi driver and he asks if I am comfortable. We have a good laugh which changes to concern as he starts driving us through some really rough areas as we head to the Bull Ring. I start hoping that this guy didn’t take offense to the business we were giving him all day. If he pulls into one of these side streets we are toast.

We are fortunate and he not only takes us to the arena but gives us a guided tour of the city as we traveI. I missed it, of course, because I needed a ladder to get up to see out of the window. Once we arrive, he says that he will wait for us and take us back! Are you kidding me?

We go and find a ticket booth and suddenly realize that we are gravely under dressed. We had shorts and t-shirts on, and these people were dressed to the nines! The young women were beautiful and dressed in sun dresses and the guys looked like they were going to church and not to see a death battle between man and beast. It was very impressive. The next thing we did wrong was pick a seat on the sunny side versus the shady side. We soon found out why the sunny side seats were so much cheaper.

We take our seats and find out that there will be six separate contests. I thought that was a lot for what we paid. So far so good! The first match starts, and it really was not what I thought it was going to be. I envisioned that it was this battle between the bull and the courageous human fighter. Eh, not so much.

Before the fighter even comes out the bull comes into the ring with several blades already in its neck to keep its head down. These other guys come in a chase it around and throw about a dozen more swords into the bull and then these guys on horses with mattresses hanging off them so the bull can’t gore them corner the bull and then one of these dudes drives a huge post into the bull which nearly kills it. THEN the brave fighter comes out and does his thing. I was not impressed. The bull never had a shot…this is rigged.

After seeing the exact same thing a few more times, we decide to take our sunburn and head back. True to his word, our taxi driver was waiting for us exactly where he said he would be. He loads us in (guess where I sat?) and we head back to town. We tip him nicely and thank him for his help and we start heading back for the border.

The only thing I really wanted was a wool blanket. Every shop had them and they were advertised for $10. They seemed more than reasonable for me, so we went into a store, and I started to buy one and my buddies from Milwaukee come in and start negotiating the store owner down. Thirty minutes later the shop owner gives up and gives it to us for $5 each. I take mine and put it under my arm and take my victory lap around the corner only to find out that this entire road of shops was advertising them for $4!

We head out and cross back over into the U.S. and travel back to Coronado. It was amazing to see how much life is different just twenty miles from one another. I passed at least a dozen more women and their kids begging for money and realized that this was the way they made their living. When we got to the car I put my $5 blanket in the trunk and headed back to the apartment thankful for an interesting day but also thankful for the life I get to lead.

Thank you, Lord, and please remind us all how much you love and care for us.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I pray for those who misunderstand me to know my true heart. Help me to love the unlovable and those who hurt me. Please give me strength to remain silent and wait on You.

Book Recommendation:

Crucible Of Hell - The Heroism and Tragedy of Okinawa, 1945 by Saul David (2020)

Music Recommendation:

Black and White by Tony Joe White (1968)

Planes, Trains & Fake Cheese

Stories about traveling are always a good time. Everyone that has ever traveled has one, I’m sure. I have quite a few due to my forty years of traveling primarily in the U.S. I would like to share a few “adventures” with you today on this version of my blog.

Story 1

One of my all-time relatable movies was Planes, Trains & Automobiles with Steve Martin and John Candy. It came out in 1987 and was a comedy about two very different guys trying to get home for Christmas and the misadventures they endured while traveling.

My son-in-law Alex and I decided to plan a trip to Columbus, Ohio last fall to see an Ohio State football game at Ohio Stadium (The Shoe). Alex is a Florida fan and we have had fun over the years giving each other the business about our favorite teams. The Big 10 versus SEC stuff eventually comes up as well. I wanted to take Alex to a game BIG 10 style and some day he is going to repay the favor and take me to The Swamp to see a game. I got us some tickets to the Maryland game in October and we set out on a Friday morning to be sure we made it to Ohio prior to the noon kickoff on Saturday and then would catch the first flight back on Sunday morning.

Alex requested to take the 6:00 am flights up and back. I looked at him very strangely and asked “Are you sure?” He said yes and so I booked the early flights. To catch that flight, I was going to have to be rolling toward Hartsfield no later than 4:00 am. Not my first choice but okay. So off we go, He looks at me when I pick him up and asks, “Why are we leaving so early?”. I reminded him that it was HIS idea and not mine for which he immediately claims amnesia. Oh boy.

Our next issue is that we pull into the offsite parking lot and they don’t have my reservation. They take twenty minutes and say “Here it is!” You are at the other lot a mile down the road. We hurry toward that lot and once there we can’t find any open spots and burn another half hour looking for a spot and waiting on the shuttle bus. Once we get to the airport we go through the doors and the end of the line is right there. There is no way we are making this flight, and we do not.

We try to make the gate anyway but the plane left us in Atlanta. We are placed on standby for the 8:00 flight and long story short, we don’t make that one either. We head toward the Sky Club now to get an early lunch and I get us put on “guaranteed standby”, whatever that is, on the noon flight and we get placed in some lovely middle seats for the two-hour flight to Cleveland. I end up on the last row on the plane or what I like to call Le Palace de Poo Poo (more on that later). The flight is thankfully uneventful, and we land and get on the bus to go to the rental car lot. It takes us another hour to exit since the car rental place apparently assumed one trainee was enough for a Friday afternoon. The original idea was to do a little sight-seeing before heading down to Columbus. That had to wait since we got in so late and had plans for Friday evening in Akron. We end up staying the night with my nephew and his family and enjoyed our stay and sharing the couch with their two dogs. Traveling can be so glamorous.

Since the game is a noon kickoff, we get up yet again at “0 dark 30” and head for Columbus. It’s a perfect Ohio fall day with a little nip in the air but sunny. I look at my wimpy son-in-law from Florida all wrapped up in a parka with gloves and the works. I tease him un-mercilessly and remind him that the Ohio folks are pretty hardy and prepared him that he may look out of place. We easily find a parking spot that didn’t cost $50 and go there in time to tour around and check out all the stuff going on outside the Stadium. We head to our seats in C deck and get ready. I am sitting next to a now famous “STEP” on the aisle. It must have been made an inch or two higher than the rest of them because almost everyone trips as they are heading up the steps. It is like watching a toddler walking around with an open cup and just waiting for them to topple over and spill it with the exception that it is going to be spilled on ME. Alex has a big laugh until the inevitable happens. A lady is walking up the steps holding nachos and a thing of fake cheese to dip them in. As she rolls by me, she trips and balances herself on my shoulder and as she regains control, she bends down to say something to me which I thought was going to be “I’m sorry.” I was right but she added “I’m sorry, I just spilled all this cheese all over the back of your jacket!” Awesomeness.

The Best Damn Band In The Land comes out and does their thing which is great and then the Bucks come roaring out for the game. During the game, we get all four seasons of weather. We got rained on three times. Then the sun came out and dried everything up and then it got cold and then it got windy. Now Alex is comfy warm in his parka and I’m freezing my rear end in my light jacket! He just smiles and I can’t look at him.

The game is close into the third quarter, and I threaten Alex that if they lose this game, I’m never bringing him again. They pull away late and we get a victory for our troubles. We head back to Cleveland but make a stop back in Akron. I told Alex that he had to try out my favorite places to eat in the old hometown, Stricklands Custard and Luigi’s Pizza. While at Luigi’s we had to wait at least an hour outside and then we were seated. As soon as I got comfortable a very inebriated lady decided to fall into ME and knock all the stuff on our table to the floor and then stagger away. Awesomeness.

The next day we get up early again and head back to Atlanta on another 6:00 am flight. I think we slept ten hours total the whole weekend but had a memorable time.

Story 2

I travel a good bit and I belong to a number of frequent customer programs that give you “free” stuff after you use their stuff a certain number of times. One of my favorites is the free upgrades on Delta Airlines. It doesn’t happen every flight but once in a while I will get moved up from my coach seat to a Delta Comfort or a First-Class seat. It certainly makes the trip better to sit in bigger seats with more leg room.

Michelle and I were traveling back to Ohio together and as we are sitting and waiting for the flight to board, I got a notice that I had been upgraded, just me. I started teasing her that I hope she enjoys the back of the bus while I will be relaxing in my upgraded seat. I was kidding of course and offered it to her. After my teasing she would not have taken that seat if it was the last one on the plane. So, I talked myself into this seat and Michelle claims that she is….FINE! I know she isn’t but now she has leverage on me and when they call for my section to board, she insists I get on. I get on and I have a window seat. I usually sit in aisle seats because they are more comfortable, but I figure it should be fine. It wasn’t. A man and his sister are sitting on the aisle and middle seats. He is 400 pounds if he is a pound, and the lady is 250 easy. I am now completely squashed up against the window and have half a seat to park myself in. As the coach section is boarding Michelle takes a look at me and my new friends and starts to hysterically laugh. I look at her with the “I hope you are enjoying yourself” look on my face. It made her day for sure.

This fella is so big he can’t buckle his belt even with an extension and the lady is sitting sideways in her chair to try and fit. You may have noticed, I’m not a small guy either. She looks at me and says, “I’m sorry” and I tell her that I’m sorry for her and having to be stuffed in between us. When the flight attendants come by with snacks, he orders three Bloody Mary’s and three of each snack for himself. He can’t place the tray back flat, so he just puts it on his stomach and sister’s tray.

All the while, I hear a baby screaming for the entire flight. Not crying but screaming like she just got put into scalding water! So far, the trip is fantastic. We land and deplane and I wait for Michelle to rub it into my face about my new besties. She looks at me and asks, “How did you enjoy your flight?” I say that it was miserable, “How about you?” She lets me know that the crying baby was her row mate. We were both VERY glad to be off that plane.

Traveling is so much fun though!

I have one more story to relate that is an all-timer.

But First…A Joke:

Several men are in the locker room when they’re startled by the sound of a cell phone on a bench ringing. A man answers on speakerphone. Everyone else in the room can’t help but listen.

Man: Hello?

Woman: Honey it’s me, Are you at the gym?

Man: Yes.

Woman: I’m at the mall now and found this beautiful dress. It’s only $1,500. I really like it - can i buy it?

Man: Sure, go ahead if you like it that much.

Woman: I also stopped by the Audi dealership and saw the new models. I saw one that is just perfect.

Man: How much?

Woman: $60,000.

Man: Okay, but for that price I want it with all the extras.

Woman: Great! Oh, and one more thing. The house we wanted last year is back on the market. They’re asking $950,000.

Man: Well, go ahead and make a bid, but just offer $900,000, and negotiate from there.

Woman: Okay, I’ll see you later! I love you!

Man: Bye. I love you, too.

The man hangs up. The other men in the locker room are looking at him in astonishment. He smiles and asks, “Whose phone is this?'“

A Verse to Contemplate:

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied - Matthew 5:6 (NASB)

Have I Told You This One?

Okay, last story for today. Unfortunately, I have a bunch of these to share.

On a trip back to Atlanta some time ago provided by our good friends at Southwest, I got the privilege of riding in seat 31F. Do you know how many rows are on a Boeing 717-200?...that's right, 31. Want to guess what the last seat in each row is...Right Again...F. So 31F is literally the last seat on the plane.

However, It is a "special" seat because it is a window seat that does not have a window. That's right...it is the crappy seat BEHIND the seat that has a window that looks directly at the engine. So, when I asked this morning what seat they put me in...the ticket agent couldn't look me in the eye (she was so ashamed) but offered me the Crisco upgrade. Curious, I asked what that was and she said for $25 they would grease me up with Crisco and slide my 6'1 250ish pound body into a seat designed for a 5'1 100 pound woman. I passed but shouldn't have.

So 31F, or what I like to call Le Palace de Poo Poo is jammed into the back bulkhead so I can't recline my seat, but guess what? That's right, the person in front of me can! So now my seat capacity has been cut in half and I can't put my tray table down without slicing my abdomen in two. What else is great about good ole 31F?...I get to see and meet everyone on the plane because I'm right next to the bathroom. We can also figure out what they had to eat recently thanks to the pungent aromas wafting from the lavatory. But that's not all!..It is so loud that I thought I was at a Deep Purple concert (my hearing is expected to return sometime over the weekend).

After a lovely breakfast of Bischoff biscuits and Diet Coke I got to know the two gentlemen beside me in 31D and 31E (they refused the Crisco upgrade too but shouldn't have). The first gentleman must have been very tired since he used my shoulder to sleep on in between sucking the rivets out of the walls with his snoring (poor baby). The other gentleman must have a bad digestion track since he decided to share his premature bowel movements with the rest of us in Le Palace de Poo Poo.

At the end of the day, all was not lost because I got to pay full fare for this joy ride. You know, the price business travelers have to pay, not the fare that they give out to families taking the neighborhood to see the mouse in Orlando. To top it off, I got to watch another fellow traveler try and jam a mattress and a dead yak in the overhead that I had placed my recently pressed sport coat. Guess what that looks like now!?

There I am done. Please place your seat backs and tray tables in the upright and locked position as we get set to leave this thrill of a lifetime.

Love and Kisses, Mark..

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, help me to praise You during my tests and trials, knowing You are with me in the middle of them with me. With each test I face, teach me to trust You more.

Book recommendation:

Finishing Well (What People Who Really Live Do Differently!) by Bob Buford (2004)

Music Recommendation:

461 Ocean Boulevard by Eric Clapton (1974)

Son Of a Rutmachine

I am the oldest son of Mr. Wayne P. Rutledge, and I am proud of that fact. Dad was a fascinating person and I think he was a great Dad. He was a hard-working tire builder, second generation. By today’s standards he would not be considered “PC”, which I also admire. He married my mom in 1959 and stayed married until he passed in 2012. He worked at General Tire Rubber Company from 1961 until they shut the plant down around 1986 and moved all the jobs to the southern U.S. and eventually offshore. He was a union man (reluctantly). He bought a house in Ellet on Stevenson Avenue in 1959 and never moved. He wasn’t crazy about change and didn’t do it very often. What you saw was what you got.

In my youth, he was a lot like the dads of my friends growing up. Men who got up early every day and went into a hot and dirty tire plant and worked their shifts and came home to a family of 3.2 children. He bowled, played softball, loved to fish, enjoyed cars and going to the drag races, did a lot of camping, went to church on Sunday, mowed the yard on Saturday and loved going to the numerous drive-ins around town for hamburgs and onion rings. He loved music and had a diverse taste in music which he passed on to me and my siblings. We got pizza from Fiesta and wore out the local Lawson’s convenient store for chip chop ham, potato chips and R.C. cola in glass bottles. He liked building car models and hated going to the grocery store or shopping mall. We all had to eat dinner together and we didn’t start until he sat down. Dad was a good-sized fella with strong forearms and hands. Once he grabbed me, I was not going anywhere.

He was very funny with a great sense of humor combined with little to no patience and a short temper. He knew everybody! Everywhere we went he would know someone and chat them up and exchange horrible dad jokes. He always went into the bank so he could flirt with the tellers. If he didn’t get to see the doctor at an appointment within 15 minutes he was out of there and they would chase him down in the parking lot. He actually had a note in his files that said he was a “flight risk.”

He was tough on me when I was growing up and he was a totally different person with my kids. Deep down he was a softie, but I would not recommend that you tell him that to his face. Before technology made its way into home electronics, I was his remote control. He would call me downstairs and then tell me to turn the channel and laugh as I grumbled and walked back upstairs.

Like many in my community, he was not someone you would want to mess with but as a young lad I had to try him. In fact, I tried him A LOT! Between my brother and I, we worked him over pretty good sometimes. I would always be doing a cost / benefit analysis mentally if I was thinking about doing something stupid or risky. Was it worth it? Usually, I rolled the dice and went for it. I also spent a lot of time looking at the four walls of my room (or running for cover!).

There are SO MANY stories to share about me and the Big Guy. I called him “Old Man” once……..ONCE. He didn’t care for that and let me know in no uncertain terms. But in a house of a dad and two sons, the alpha male stuff started in my teen years. He won, of course, but I have some funny stories to share of when I won a few. Since he is passed now, I feel safe in sharing them!

But First…A Joke:

A little girl notices some strands of her mother’s hair are turning white. “Mom, “ she asks, “Why is your hair turning white?”

Annoyed, her mother responds, “Because I have a little girl who is constantly making trouble and causing me to worry.”

The little girl thinks about it for a few minutes and says, “So why is Grandma’s hair all white?”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Romans 8:35

Have I Told You This One?

My brother Allen and I used to fight all the time and my dad got tired of breaking it up. Since I was older, bigger, stronger he would warn me to knock it off and leave Allen alone. My brother used this to his advantage and would start stuff with me thinking I would not retaliate. He thought wrong! One time I had Allen pinned to the floor in the living room and was working him over pretty good and all of the sudden I could hear dad charging up from the basement. I’m sure it sounded like we were coming through the floor. He looks at me and says “You can fight me if you want to fight someone!” I didn’t think it was strategically a good time to backfill on the reason I was over top of my brother and instead rolled off and got behind a chair that had a high back. Dad was trying to grab me, and I kept dodging him and eventually rolled out and ran out the front door and up the street. He is standing in the front yard and yells “I know where you live!” He had a point. I stayed out a few hours until he calmed down and snuck back in the house later that day. I got the message.

The next story is somewhat similar. It starts out with my brother and I fighting in the living room but ends with us working as a team. Dad had this stylish chair back in the 70’s. It was low to the ground and shaped like a horizontal “s.” When he came home from work he would pick the paper up and drop into it and read the paper and relax some before dinner. Well, when Allen and I were going at it, I picked him up and body slammed him into the chair and the frame and springs broke into multiple pieces. Allen and I instantly became best friends and tried to figure out our next move. I held up the chair and told Allen to put everything back under the chair and I would place the chair back on top and when the next person sat in it, well you know. Dad comes home like clockwork, picks up the paper and drops into the chair and the pieces go everywhere and he rolls out into the middle of floor and has a very surprised look on his face. Allen and I look totally surprised and say to him, “What did you do to the chair Dad?” and then we went outside only to hear him telling mom what a lousy chair it was. Sorry Dad. It was pretty funny though.

Dad made most of my baseball and football games but I didn’t always know he was there. He didn’t make himself stand out during the games. He told me when I started playing sports that he was not going to do any butt kissing of the coaches and if I was going to make it, I would have to make it on my own. I was good with that. One summer in high school, I was playing on a travel team and we were playing on the high school field which was a big deal to me. I was pretty cocky back in those days and I was on first after a single. The next batter up got a hit and I tried to go first to third and was thrown out at third, but I thought I had beat the tag. I got up and was kicking dirt and threw my helmet and reluctantly went into the dugout. My teammates didn’t say much because they knew I was mad. All of the sudden I hear dad’s booming voice from the other end of the dugout, “Mark! Get over here now!” So now I have to walk past my teammates and this time they have plenty to say. “Hey Rut, looks like your dad’s here, tell him I said hi! and “I wonder what your dad wants.” I get to the other end and dad lights me up and let’s me know if I do anything like that again, he was going to pull me out himself. “Yes sir” was all I could come up with. Then I got to walk past my teammates again. “How was the talk with your dad?” and “Your dad looks good in jeans”. I mumbled “shut up” and took my place on the bench. Dad won that round.

We used to wrestle a lot when I was growing up. I had started to play football and lift weights and I was getting stronger so I thought I would try my luck with Wayne P. For the first time ever in one of our matches I got leverage on him as he was laying in his bed. The bed was up against the wall and I had him pinned against the bed and wall and started stuffing him in the ever widening crack. He was trying so hard and I was just laughing at him. Mom heard us and came running in and says, “Don’t hurt your dad, Mark” This did not sit well with dad and I said “Okay, dad I guess I have to stop kicking your butt, your wife wants me to stop!” I laughed as mom dug him out of the crack. That one goes to me!

I always knew dad loved me and was proud of me but once when he was getting pretty close to death I was talking with my mom, and I asked her “Does dad like me?” My question was one of curiosity. My personality and his were not the same and as an adult I was just curious if dad liked spending time together. He’s a quiet guy and I’m not, that kind of thing. Of course, mom freaks out and assures me that he does, and I told her that it’s okay. I know a little of me can go a long way sometimes. I was curious, not mad or sad. Next thing I know, dad is calling me on the phone. I can count on one hand the number of times dad called me “just to talk.” Guys of that generation usually didn’t say things like “I love you” and that sort of thing to their kids, especially the guys. He did say something that day that I will always remember. He told me that as a parent you know you aren’t going to get everything right and you just hope that you don’t screw your kids up too bad. He told me he was proud of me and then gave the phone to mom.

One last funny story about him for now. My family and I were up visiting at the house in Akron and as we were getting ready to leave, as usual, we were all out hugging and shaking hands and saying prayers for a safe trip back to Georgia. For reasons I still am not sure of, I told dad goodbye and then……kissed him on the lips and told him I loved him! Everyone just stopped and held their collective breaths. We waited to see what dad would say. I’m dumbfounded and have no idea what just happened. It had never happened before or since. Dad tries to brush it off and I just looked at him and said, “what’s the matter, you never been kissed by a man before?” Then he chased me around the yard.

I really miss my dad but thankfully I have a ton of really good memories. Once someone leaves you tend to focus on the good ones more than the bad ones but I’m glad I had my dad growing up and he still makes me smile just thinking about him.

See you soon Pop, tell mom I said hi!

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, help me to acknowledge my weaknesses so You can perfect Your power in me.

Book Recommendation:

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (2003)

Music Recommendation:

Up Tight by Booker T & The MG’s (1969) Contains dad’s favorite song - “Time Is Tight”

Hey there, What’s Your Sign?

As a child of the 60’s and 70’s, I can remember the tacky ice breaker from those days. Looking back sometimes, do you ever ask yourself, how did any of these silly things ever work? It always seems dated and laughable on so many levels. You see a lovely looking person and have an urge to get to know them or perhaps your idiot buddies are razzing you to go talk to them. You can say ANYTHING, and you come up with “Hey there, What’s your sign?” Pressure makes fools of us all sometimes.

But one of the “rules” of dating, as I vaguely recall, is to use whatever works if you really want to meet someone. Why would it matter on what date you were born? Your dad and mom got a bit amorous nine months before that date and here you are into the big old cosmic mix. What God designed you to be and what he decided to gift you with takes precedent over the month of the year it happened to be, but that’s just me.

As hard as it is to get up the courage to give it a go, I would much rather be the ask(er) versus the ask(ee). Ladies, I’m sure you have heard some Loulou’s. I respect those of you that let the potential Don Juan down easily, but it must be exhausting.

I had it pretty good in my short dating career. When I first started getting interested in the finer, beautiful young ladies I noticed in school it was much simpler. You could find out who her friends were, and they might help you discover if there was any interest. You could ask them to go to an upcoming dance. You could tell that one girl in school “Hey, you can’t tell anyone this, but I have a thing for so and so”, knowing full well that within the next hour the whole school would know. But overall, it wasn’t that hard if you had a little confidence. Nice hair didn’t hurt either, or abs, or dreamy blue eyes, or puppies, or enjoying long walks on the beach, or good cologne, or a car, or a job. The way the hormones were running around, you pretty much had to be able to fog a mirror and you were “in play.”

I, if nothing else, was full of confidence back in those days. I had a more direct approach. I had determined in my mind that I was going to set my target on the varsity and leave the junior varsity to some of the others. Now, before you get all mad and call me sexist let me just say….I know, that is very sexist, but may I remind you that we are talking about the 1970’s and things were MUCH different then, which is the entire point of my blog today. I was still a teenager and a rebel without a clue and to be honest, the ladies were just a clueless (in most cases). We were all trying to figure this out on the fly. One of the head scratchers for me as I compare current times with earlier times is that many do not seem to allow for changes and hold people to a different standard without considering that the times are not the same (but I digress).

I met the woman who would end up being my wife when I was fifteen and she was fourteen. Honest to God, I looked her up in the school yearbook and called her and asked her out to a school dance for Valentine’s Day. I had briefly met her at a football game before I started playing in them and remembered her. It was a total shot in the dark and we were together until 2021 when she passed. That usually doesn’t happen. I get it. As much as I would like to think I was all that and a bag of chips, I know, I hit a homer at my first at bat.

I had a THING for Linda Ronstadt back then and Michelle reminded me of her. Petite, beautiful, great smile could sing well. I found the girl of my dreams and my dating “career” was pretty much over at that point. I did date some other ladies from time to time, but I already knew that they were interested in me, so I never really had to do much searching.

Todays blog will be about a very interesting conversation I had with a friend who had lost her husband around the same time I lost Michelle and the notes we shared regarding dating in our 60’s. Not 1960, OUR 60’s and how things have changed so much since those “innocent” days of yore.

But First…A Joke:

A mad scientist made a clone of himself, but something went wrong - all the clone wanted to do was stick his head out of the 10th story window and shout obscenities at passersby on the sidewalk. The scientist, seeing no other option, pushed the clone out the window. He was arrested for making an obscene clone fall (It’s all in the delivery folks!).

A Verse to Contemplate:

It seems foolish to the Jews because they want a sign from heaven as proof that what is preached is true; and it is foolish to the Gentiles because they believe only what agrees with their philosophy and seems wise to them…But God has opened the eyes of those called to salvation. - I Corinthians 1:22, 24

Have I Told You This One?

Last summer I went back to Ohio for a high school reunion. It was my first time back since Michelle had passed away. It felt very odd to be there (or anywhere) without her by my side. At the party I met a friend who had unfortunately lost her husband around the same time, so we were both in the early stages of grieving losing our high school sweethearts. Not a club you want to be in, but none the less we were card carrying members at that point. I saw her and gave her a hug and told her how sorry I was for her loss, and she did likewise to me. I also told her that if she ever wanted to talk to someone to please know that she could call me anytime.

Around the holidays I was back in Ohio, and she noticed on Facebook and sent me a message asking if I would like to get together for lunch and have that talk. I was very thankful that she had reached out and we set up a time and place to meet.

We met up and got a booth and ordered some lunch. We had some small talk to catch up and then we started “comparing notes” on what it was like to lose a spouse and to go through the process of redefining who you were at 60ish. We had a lot of common experiences and concerns and it felt really good to finally talk to someone that was going through all the tough days as I was. Until you have to go through this you don’t realize how damn hard it is and how alone you can feel.

We talked for a couple hours and then she hit me with a question that honestly, I was not ready for at that time. She asked, “Have you started dating anyone yet?” It hit me straight between the eyes. My answer was “no.” I had not allowed myself to go down that road yet. Frankly, I didn’t know if I ever would.

I am a trained Stephen Minister. In Stephen ministry you walk alongside people who are going through difficult times in their lives. Not to provide solutions as much as to be a sounding board and to be someone who cares about them at a very hard time in their lives. One of the things I trained others on was that it is wise to not make any large financial or relational decisions for at least two years after losing a spouse or a divorce. At the time, I thought that seemed like a very long time, but now I see the wisdom in it. I told my friend that for the first year and a half or so that if I even would dare think of that, it made me feel like I was cheating on her. Technically I know that is not true, but that is the way it felt. I was what the Bible calls a one-woman man, and I had been for my entire 39 years of marriage.

I asked her if she had started dating and she told me that she had. I asked her how she met people and she told me that she had met this fella through on-line dating sites. I nodded my head but inside I cringed. Not at her, but at the thought of having to start dating in the electronic age as a 60-year-old. I had been out of that life (gladly) for fifty years. It sucks being alone, but is it worth it? She is a sweet friend and she encouraged me to think about it and give it a go “when I’m ready.” How will I know when I’m ready? Being alone isn’t all bad. I have a ton of autonomy and freedom that I have never had before. I am retired and have more time than I have ever had before. When I was younger, Michelle and I looked at everything as “ours.” We were building something together. We didn’t have 50 years of baggage to compensate for. Our kids were just that, our kids. Oh man, for a person that is an over-thinker this is a major hurdle for me.

I’ve seen in some of my friends that have lost spouses and have remarried that they are happy, and it seems to be working out great for them. Given that second marriages have a fail rate of around 70% that is quite an accomplishment.

I can’t see myself walking up to some 60-year-old grandmother of five now and asking her what her sign is! You know what I mean? I have a hard time seeing me going to one of these on-line dating sites. The ones I’ve been shown, a lot of the women apparently are buying shirts that are a few sizes too small which can’t contain their chest which is blowing out the buttons on their shirts. Let’s face it, I’m not going to be leading with the cards I used back in the day to see if anyone is interested in the Rutmachine either. This is all a brave new world for a guy who isn’t all that crazy about a ton of change in his life. I’m old fashioned and I try and live my beliefs. I feel like a lot of the world has dismissed people like me and gave me the finger as they passed by.

I think I’m getting ready to go back out and look. I’m not sure if what I really want is out there and it is a bit daunting. Relationships are extremely hard work to do it right. I feel I have something of value to give but I’m not sure what I value is all that valuable to many others anymore. I’m not saying that for a sympathy grab but just to point out that dating in 2024 is a bit different than 1974, which is not news to anyone, I’m sure.

Anyway, I am excited to see what the next big adventure is going to be. Let me ask a question, does writing on a piece of paper “do you want to go on a date?” with two boxes to check, either yes or no still work? Just asking for a friend.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, fill my heart to overflowing with Your love and open my mind to Your wisdom.

Book Recommendation:

When There Are No Easy Answers (Thinking Differently About God, Suffering, and Evil) - John S. Feinberg (2016)

Music Recommendation:

Ten by Pearl Jam (1991)