Are You Sure?

Let me start by asking a question for today’s blog. Have you ever heard someone say something or make a definitive statement and you either think to yourself or even ask out loud…Are You Sure? Second question: have you ever heard anyone follow up with “no, I’m not sure”? Of course not, everyone nods and pretends that it is a GREAT idea when the reality is sketchy.

Another version of that is when you know someone really well and they come to you and tell you a big decision they have made, and you get a look on your face akin to a dog that suddenly smells something funny and tilts his head and looks at you with a look that says…Are You Sure about that? Like a person that has trouble with authority suddenly decides to join the armed forces or someone that barely can play the guitar decides to quit his job to start a band and make a living as a performer? You hate to be “That Guy” but you just don’t have any peace about this, but you don’t want to tinkle in their Cherrios (technical term) and kill their buzz. What do you do? What should you do? Let me tell you what I did.

I was about 20 or 21 and finishing up school at THE University of Akron. I was as close to broke without being technically broke putting myself through college. I had a dear friend (the names have been changed to protect the guilty) who had just ended a marriage (her first) after just a few years. She had started seeing this guy that none of us knew and all the sudden we get word that she has decided to get married. Are You Sure?

At this time, I was still forming some of my major spiritual beliefs and I had not truly understood what getting married really meant. During this period, I thought if two people wanted to commit to each other and they loved each other, that was great. Go for it. My belief now is that a marriage covenant is a sacred promise to God and others that the couple are committing to each other for a lifetime for better or worse. It is not to be taken lightly. Those that attend the wedding are actually giving witness that they approve of the wedding and are also making a commitment to do whatever they can to help the couple succeed. The ultimate goal is to glorify God in all they do.

As I got the news from my friend, I got a bad feeling that this was a rushed decision and that I didn’t think it was a good idea. It felt like a rebound relationship and also wanting to stick it to the ex. You ever been to a wedding and thought to yourself “this has no chance?” That was the vibe I was getting. The counter of course is that you want your friend to be happy and you can justify your negative thoughts with a ton of excuses including “it is not any of my business.” I would not do that now but back then I certainly did.

On top of that, my friend asked me to be in the wedding as a groomsman. I had never even met her fiancé and couldn’t pick him out of a lineup and my very limited funds were now going to be stretched even farther when I had to rent a tux ($100 back then might as well been $1,000). Yet another red flag, why wasn’t he asking me and/or why doesn’t he have enough of his own friends or family? Again, Mr. Softie Bleeding Heart (me) says “I would be honored to!” I suck at lying.

I get home and I’m talking to my parents and my fiancé Michelle and guess what they ask me? You got it, Are You Sure? Now I’m in one of those commitments that you can’t wait to be over and wish you had the castanets to say what you should have said, but alas, I’m in for the whole trip now so let’s make the best of it.

As the big day drew closer the wedding plans starting to accelerate and before you know it, it’s showtime! On the evening of the rehearsal, we met at the church for a walk through and I got to meet the groom for the first time. Instead of being pleasantly surprised and ashamed that I thought these negative things about this fella, it confirmed them. Are You Sure? Now it seems like it’s too late to say anything, so I just smile and shake hands and smile for the pictures.

Just when I thought I couldn’t feel anymore awkwardly about this, Red Flag #2 shows up. I meet the priests that are going to be officiating the wedding. There was the older established priest that looked and acted like you would expect a priest to present himself and then there was the second priest who reminded me of Chris Farley’s character of the motivational speaker who lived in a van down by the river! This guy apparently was the part of the new generation of priests. I was not impressed.

Have you ever been in a room of people you don’t know and the only person that you do know is off talking to everyone else? That’s where I was at the rehearsal. Uncomfortable, awkward and really wanting to flee. But I honor my promises so I gut it out. As I am observing the interactions I hear Chris Farley over with the bridesmaids and my friend. Apparently, they had a WILD bachelorette party the night before which the priest attended (I kid you not). They were reliving the debauchery and having a big old laugh about it. Yikes. Are You Sure my dear friend? I love you and care about you, but I think you are about to drive off of a cliff. What did I do? Nothing, that’s what. To my forever shame.

Mr. Farley was a Lutheran priest. I didn’t know anything about the Lutheran view of faith, but I was a bit taken back that he was promoting drinking and shenanigans versus warning against such things. I grew up with a lot of Catholic friends and family and was not too shocked that priests drank even with their collars on, but this guy was hammered every time I saw him. Are You Sure, bro?

So, buckle up as today’s blog will be about the ill-fated wedding that turned out even crazier than I thought it would be with an ending that you will either gasp at or shake your head and say to yourself, “That seems about right for Markus!”

But First…A Joke:

On Father’s Day, a little boy decides to make his dad breakfast in bed. He makes scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. He brings it to his dad, hands him a cup of coffee, and says, “Try it, Dad!!” The father takes a sip and nearly spits it out because it is so strong. The little boy asks, “Dad, how do you like it?”

Trying not to hurt his feelings, the dad replies, “This is…something else, I’ve never tasted coffee quite like this before, son.” The little boy smiles from ear to ear and says, “Drink some more!”

As the father is drinking, he notices two plastic army men in the bottom of the cup. “Hey! Why did you put army guys in here?” The little guy again smiles and sings, “The Best Part of Waking Up Is Soldiers in Your Cup!”

A Verse to Contemplate:

When you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave in the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do. - James 1: 6-8

Have I Told You This One?

The wedding day arrives, and I get into my tux, pick up Michelle and head for the church to get my friend hitched hoping for a quick wedding and as soon as my responsibilities are completed, I am out of there. Not a great attitude to have for a good time, right?

Michelle is less than thrilled as well because the only person she knows is me and I have to sit at the main table most of the night, so she gets to have small talk with complete strangers until I am released from my duties.

I try and be helpful to this complete stranger I am standing with at the wedding and go by and try and give him some encouragement. He looks at me like it was the first time he has ever seen me because it is! I shake his hand and congratulate him and introduce myself. He gives me a dead fish handshake which I HATE and mumbles something I didn’t comprehend. I realize this guy is never going to win me over and I slip into the background and start thanking God that these folks were not Catholic so the service wouldn’t last for hours (Sorry, to my Catholic friends and family but your weddings are long).

The music starts and we enter two at a time walking that wedding walk like we are on a fashion runway in New York City, smile for the photographers and take our places on the stage. The groom and the priests come in next and take their places. Chris Farley is hammered and waving at all the bridesmaids and ladies in the front row as the older priest elbows him in the ribs in an effort to get him to be a tick professional. I’m even less impressed now, shows up drunk to work. Are You Sure?

I locate Michelle out in the crowd, and she gives me THE look. Not A look, THE look. I shrug my shoulders as if to say, what can I do about it? We smile at each other and settle in for the nuptials. Thankfully, it is a nice quick ceremony and my friend looks beautiful and seems happy. The groom looks like he’s late for a plane. Are You Sure?

We sit up at the main table and we eat, dance, cut the cake, etc. All the normal things in a wedding. They take the final pictures, and I am set free to be with the most beautiful lady in the room…FINALLY! I am ready to catch up with her and slowly slip away when the time is right but she has some news for me that I was not expecting but probably should have been.

I look at her and can tell that she is not happy. I ask her, “What’s wrong?” and she informs me that Priest Farley has been hitting on her and will not let up. “Every time I turn around, he is right there!” she says. He is invading my personal space, and he is hammered. For the record, I have not had a drink and am completely sober. I am 20 or 21 and still full of you know what and vinegar, and I still like to fight a little bit. I am used to defending her honor because she is so pretty but I NEVER thought I would have to do so with a priest! So now it is my turn to ask the dumb question and I look at her and ask, “Are You Sure?” I immediately knew that I had made a mistake. She said “Positively!” For all the guys reading this, that was the minute that I knew that all women KNOW when they are being hit on, so if they say it, you can believe it.

Anyway. The music is thumping, and everyone is having a good time except me because now I have decided to confront a priest that has been making me angry for several days now. So, I walk over to Chris Farley, and I ask him this “Excuse me, could I have a word with you father?” So, he stagers over and asks me, “What can I help you with my friend?”

Me: First of all, I am not your friend.

Him: I’m sorry, what?

Me: I point to Michelle and ask, Do you see that woman over there in the black dress looking at us?

Him: Yes, she is very pretty.

Me: That is my fiancé and she tells me that you have been hitting on her while my back was turned.

Him: I can assure you that is not the case.

Me: You have this all wrong, sir. This is not a conversation or a debate. I am talking and you are going to listen. I want this to be crystal clear to you.

Him: Okay.

Me: If I see you anywhere near her for the rest of the evening, I am going to knock you out. Do we understand the conditions?

Him: Uh huh.

Me: Are You Sure?

I eyeballed him the rest of the evening and he didn’t try his luck. There was a part of me hoping he would try me but at the same time I didn’t because I might have had a hard time explaining to my friend why I ruined her wedding by knocking a drunk priest out.

Not surprisingly, the marriage didn’t last a year and I felt horrible for them. No one had the guts to speak up or if they did, she wasn’t listening. The good part of the story is that hubby number three was a great guy, and they had a great marriage. I wasn’t invited to that wedding, I wonder why?

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I give You the reins of my life. Turn my eyes back to You when I begin to sink because I am looking around instead of looking up to You.

Book Recommendation:

Radical - Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream - David Platt (2010)

Music Recommendation:

Bad Company by Bad Company (1974)

Buried Treasure

I was sitting in my living room the other day reading and my mind kept drifting. It felt like I had read the same page about twenty straight times, and I was not getting much out of the book. When I’m reading, I do a mental exercise at the end of each page and quickly quiz myself to what I just read. If I can’t recall, then I try again. I think the problem was the overcast gloomy day and that my inner beach bum was yearning to be at a warm sunny beach listening to the surf roll in. I put the book down and just sat there thinking about all the great times at the beach and trying to pick a story to share with you all today. A real cool one came to mind, and I hope you like it.

But first you need a little back story for today’s trip back into Mark’s fuzzy memory.

I met my late wife Michelle when I was in 10th grade and she was in 9th back in the early 1970’s at school. To be honest, I was looking for a date to go to the upcoming Valentine’s Day dance at school. I called her up randomly and asked her to go to the dance and after I met her parents we were allowed to go. It kicked off a life-long romance and my life was never quite the same.

After high school was over her parents moved to south Florida and she decided to stay in Akron and move out on her own at 17. Her dad was NOT A FAN of the decision but relented. Michelle moved into a small apartment with a few friends, and they made it. She found a job to support herself in downtown Akron at the Akron Bar Association and later at the Probate Court.

I was putting myself through college and was living at my parent’s house. Our relationship continued to mature, and it seemed pretty obvious that we were going to get married, the only question left to answer was when. I had very little and was not ready to take on the financial responsibility of leading a family but I loved that woman with everything I had. We talked a lot about it, prayed about it, talked with others for advice and started to believe we might be able to get by until I graduated from school and was able to find real work and get our life together going.

One day in 1980 a peace came over me about this and I headed up to the local mall to look at engagement/wedding rings. My total life savings at the time was $300 (about $1,000 in today’s money). I had less than zero idea about buying jewelry, especially this kind. I found a nice saleswoman and told her my story. I was honest and said “I have $300 and that’s it. Not $302 or $395…$300.” So, if you’re going to try and upsell me, you are wasting your time. She grinned and took me to the far end of the counter to have a look. I eventually picked one out and if you held it just right in the bright sun you MIGHT be able to get a reflection off the incredibly small diamond in the setting. I think it was rated as a .00000001 karat!

When I got home I called Michelle and told her I wanted to pick her up and go for a hike in Goodyear Metro Park. This is where we hung out a lot and I thought it would be a great place to propose. She was indifferent about going so I had to do a hard sales job to get her to go but I think she was wondering what was up.

As I headed out the door my mom was in the kitchen and asked, “Where are you going?” I told her “To propose to Michelle, be back later!”  She nearly fainted and grabbed me and started asking me a ton of questions that I had given very little thought to like, “How are you going to provide?”  We talked it out and I told her that “it was time” and I thought it would work out.

I put this big ring box in my shorts and tried to keep to the right of Michelle when we were walking so she wouldn’t notice. We sat down at this bench inside the park, and I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. I was hoping she would like the ring since we did not discuss it beforehand. I knew it wasn’t the biggest or best, so I was a little apprehensive. When she saw it, you would have thought it was worth a million bucks! She said yes (spoiler alert), and we were one step closer to being an official couple.

We were married in August of 1982 as I finished up my last year of school. I moved into her duplex, and we started the newest version of Rutmachines! Best decision I ever made.  I always thought that once we got going and had some money saved back that I would buy her the ring she deserved.

Today’s blog is about that journey and how we found buried treasure in a pretty unbelievable way several years down the road.

But First…A Joke:

A psychiatrist had to have a talk with his receptionist recently after overhearing some conversations in the lobby. “Just say that we’re very busy, “he said. “Please stop telling people that it is a madhouse in here.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous, so that He will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness - 1 John 1:9

Have I Told You This One?

My new bride wore her new ring proudly and it made me proud that she didn’t complain when others would show their rings which were obviously bigger, better and more expensive. She would show hers off with the same intensity. But I knew she deserved better and was trying to get her an upgrade. 

If you have ever been married for any length of time and have kids, you know that there is always something that needs to be addressed financially and there isn’t always “extra” money for things like ring upgrades. The transmission goes out on the car, the kid’s tuition is due, the washer and dryer need replaced, you get the idea. My heart was there but the checkbook was not. Time flies by when you’re having fun!

Before I knew it our twentieth wedding anniversary was coming up in 2002 and I was determined to fulfill the promise to myself and surprise her with that new ring. This time I went to a swanky jewelry store and bought her a nice ring that took up most of her finger! I did get upsold this time and I was glad it happened. The lady salesperson even kept apologizing to ME. I told her to relax and that I was happy with my purchase. Somehow, she could tell I couldn’t afford it.

Being a hopeless romantic I thought I would give it to her where I proposed to her, at Goodyear Metro. I told her that I had a trip planned for our 20th, but I wasn’t going to tell her where it was and to pack a bag and if she needed anything we would buy it there. My idea was to make a stop in Akron and then we would jump on another plane to New Orleans. I had the ring mailed to my dad in Akron. When we got to the airport she was all excited about the trip but it was killing her that she didn’t know where we were going. Once we got to the gate and the sign said Akron, Ohio she kind of side-eyed me. Well, to be truthful she hit me and called me names. But ever the trooper, she got on the plane and we were off to the Rubber City!

Once we got to Ohio, we stopped and sat with my parents for a tick and then I told her that I wanted to go the park. Reluctantly she went and at the top of hill on the bench I got back down on my much older knees and asked her if she would marry me again. It turned out great and she was happy. She was even more happy when I told her we had to go to the airport in the morning for our trip to the Big Easy. We had a bunch of fun in New Orleans and her ring glistened in the neon. I felt great because I finally got her the upgrade she deserved. But to be clear, she would have worn the original her entire life and been happy as well. I don’t know what I did to deserve her but if I ever find out I’m writing a book.

Once we got back to Atlanta, life started happening quickly once again and the years seemed to be blowing by like a twister. Her dad passed away in 1991 and he had his ashes placed in the Gulf of Mexico just off of Pensacola Beach. She hadn’t been back down there for a while, and we decided to take a weekend and go to our favorite beach for some “r n’ r.” It was an absolutely perfect weekend, and she was enjoying the sun in her chair. She wanted to get a tan on her back so she took the towel she was laying on and placed it on the sand so she could lay down.

A few minutes in I hear, “Where’s my ring?” Her voice was very troubled, so I knew there was a problem. She remembered too late that she had taken the ring off because she was concerned that it might slip off due to the suntan lotion and put it on the towel. When she got up and shook the sand off the towel, she simultaneously sent the ring flying and we had no idea where it was. We rooted through the sand in the immediate area with no luck. I went to some people around us and asked to use their sand toys to sift through the sand. We did this for what seemed like hours, but still no luck. I looked up and there was a bad storm headed our way which put more stress into the situation. I told Michelle I would look for someone with a metal detector and started searching up and down the beach. I couldn’t find anyone. I came back and she was distraught. I put my arm around her and told her that I was sorry and that I would get another one once we got back to Atlanta.

She snaps up and looked at me and said “I am finding this ring, I don’t want to come back here with another sad memory.” “Okay sweetie, I hear you.” So I headed the other way down the beach looking for a metal detector. As I was about to turn around and head back again, I spot this young man that was there with two lady friends. I walk over to him and ask, “Hey my friend, would you like to be a hero today?” He asked, “What do you mean?” I told him the situation and he told me that he had just got this detector and was trying to figure out to work it. What a better way to start! Thankfully, he came back with me and by the time we reached Michelle she had half the beach digging for that ring. I introduced her to my new best friends and they started searching for it. We expanded the search area a little bit and after a few false alarms with pop can tops and other non-ring material, we hear, “I think I found it!” I was skeptical but sure enough there it was! Michelle broke down and hugged and kissed this young guy and cried. Poor kid didn’t know what to do next, so I rescued him and thanked him. I got his address and sent him some gifts and money for his help in finding the Buried Treasure!

That ring meant a lot of all of us but especially Michelle. More than I thought, actually.

After she passed away the hospital returned the ring to me along with a few other personal items. The ring was in a small Ziplock bag. I took my wedding band off and placed it in there with her ring where they will be until it’s my time to go.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, it’s hard to believe that You are always available. Thank You for allowing me to come to You with the same requests over and over. Give me faith to trust You even when I don’t understand.

Book Recommendation:

12 Strong (Horse Soldiers) by Doug Stanton (2009)

Music Recommendation:

Framed by The Sensational Alex Harvey Band (1973)

Hi! I’m Alice from Akron

I was recently thinking about one of sweetest women I have ever known, my grandmother on my dad’s side, Alice Josephine Rutledge, or as she would introduce herself…Alice from Akron!

It’s somewhat of a risk sometimes to talk about people that are near and dear to your heart but unknown to others outside of the family. It can be something like showing your home movies to strangers. They will usually not get it, but you might be laughing or crying like a crazy person. But I’m going to risk it because I think you will love this lady as much as I do. If not, just pretend and go along for the ride.

My dad’s side of the family was from the Wheeling, West Virginia area and immigrated to Ohio in the 1930’s to seek their fame and fortune in the burgeoning industrial revolution that was taking place in the Midwest United States. Grandpa Rut came to Akron to work at the tire plants to escape the coal mines in West Virginia. My family was hard-working, down-to-earth and quite rough and tumble. I’m sure we were not being invited to the high social teas or vacationing in the Hamptons but if you wanted to have fun and laugh too loud, we were the ticket!

Grandma Rut’s family was from the Steubenville, Ohio area and I believe she was an only child of her parents. They moved to the Akron area for the same reasons and my Grandma Rut was born in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio in the later part of 1915. She met my grandpa, and they were married when she was 20 in Wheeling in 1936 and my dad was born in 1937. They had two more sons and one daughter and grandpa worked for General Tire and Rubber Company until his death in 1973. As you can see, my roots were similar to many in the Akron area at that time. It’s a story told by many.

Growing up I don’t remember spending a lot of time with them, but we would see each other on the holidays and special events. I do remember that she did not have a driver’s license, never had a car, took the bus everywhere, and was a stay-at-home mom and raised the family while grandpa went to work in the tire factory. Pretty standard at that time.

Grandpa died when I was 12 years old, and my dad and uncles took over the responsibility of taking care of her. She was very feisty and very outgoing. She loved being the center of attention and always had stories to tell and could spin a web (Hmm, sounds like someone I know!). She was highly independent at the same time and would ride the bus everywhere she needed to go. When her health and memory started to struggle, she moved into a high-rise senior citizen tower near downtown Akron. She did not go easily into that one. She fought hard to keep her independence but ultimately relented.

One story told is that she was waiting for a bus outside of her place with a friend, some young person came up and tried to mug her and her friend. Boy, did that guy pick the wrong lady! My grandma Rut beat this kid into the bushes with her cane and got on the bus. My dad freaked but she was a tough old girl and felt she could handle herself.

Another story that I remember was that she was struggling with high blood pressure and the doctor asked her if she was under any stress. She said that she always is because she was always trying to be nice. The doctor gave her “permission” to not be nice when someone was stressing her out. When she got home she was a different woman. She was lighting everyone up. My dad would just come home and shake his head and say stuff like, “You won’t believe what she said to me today!” Please tell me dad, PLEASE!

As I got older and was traveling a lot for work, I would try and plan some trips back to Ohio and see everyone. On one of those trips home, I called her and told her that I was coming into town and that I wanted to take her out for a real swanky dinner date. She could pick ANYWHERE she wanted to go. We would get dressed up and I was going to show her a night on the town. I arrive at her place, and I still have my suit from work on and I head up to her apartment and she is all dolled up and ready to go! I ask her, “Grandma, where have you decided to go tonight? I’m really looking forward to this!”. She informs me that she has given it a lot of thought and she wants me to take her to….wait for it….Denny’s. I bite the inside of mouth so that I wouldn’t laugh, and counter with, “Grandma, I make enough money now, we can go ANYWHERE you want. It is my treat, please don’t worry about the cost.” She lets me know very clearly that Denny’s is EXACTLY where she wants to go. Okay, Denny’s it is grandma, let’s go!

We drive less than a mile to Denny’s and I open the door for her and put my arm out for her to hold on to and we enter Denny’s for a night of unabashed food delights. She walks into the place like the Queen and she waves at all the people she knows and they all stop eating their All-Star Special and wave back and check out the eye candy Ms. Alice has shown up with! Now I know why she wanted to go here! What a riot.

Well, we enjoy our Senior Citizen Special and some conversation and Grandma is in her glory. She didn’t stop smiling and looking around the entire evening. So, I milk this for her for and hour and a half or so and suggest we get back before they send a posse to find her. She agrees and right before she gets up to leave she dumps ALL of the condiments and other stuff on the table into her purse and says, okay, I’m ready! I say quietly to her, you can’t take all of that stuff. She looks at me and lets me know that it is free and she does this “all the time”. I see that I’m not going to win this one, so I throw and extra $10 on the tip and take the Queen back out to her chariot.

It was hilarious. She was so much fun.

Today’s blog will be about the time I flew her down to Atlanta and introduced her to my friends and family and got to listen to her say, “Hi! I’m Alice from Akron!”

But First…A Joke:

A woman had a dream, God appeared to her and said, “I’m going to grant you another 40 years, 8 months and 22 days of life.” Well, she woke up and she was too excited. And she thought, If that’s going to happen, I’m going to get a little bit of work done.

So, if you could nip it or tuck it, push it or pull it, she had it done. Man, she was looking GOOD. So, she decided she was going to take herself out for a night on the town. she was downtown walking across the street and a car ran a red light. Bam! Hit her, killed her instantly.

She woke up in heaven and said, “Now, God, I don’t understand this. You said you would grant me another 40 years, 8 months and 22 days of life, and here I am standing before you. What’s up with that?”

God looked at her and said, “I didn’t recognize you.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

I keep my eyes always on the Lord, with him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. - Psalm 16:8

Have I Told You This One?

So, after our big night out on the town, I took her back to her apartment and we visited for a few more hours and I told her I needed to go but I had an offer for her. She sat up in her chair and asked, “What is it?” I told her I would pay for her flight to Atlanta, and she could stay with me and Michelle and that I would show her all around Atlanta and then fly her back home. No charge, just come down for a visit.

I hoped she would take me up on it, but she basically had not been anywhere outside of Akron very much and I thought this might be too much of an ask, but much to my surprise and delight she said she would love to do that. Awesome! I told her I would work out the details with dad and we would set a date for the big trip south.

I set a date and buy her a round trip ticket on Eastern Airlines (dating myself) and asked dad to make sure she gets on the flight in Akron, and I will pick her up in Atlanta. The big day approaches and my dad keeps asking her if she still wants to do it and she doesn’t back down. She had never been on an airplane before, so this was a pretty big step for Alice from Akron.

Back then the Akron Canton Airport was a much smaller airport and when you boarded you had to walk out on the tarmac and then up the stairway. Dad was watching her and she started out strong but when she got about halfway to the plane, she stopped. Dad thought this was where she would finally bail but she steadied herself and got on the plane.

I put her in an aisle seat because I wasn’t sure if she would want a window seat. I also had a note on her ticket that this was her first ever flight and to keep and eye out for her. The flight attendants were great to her and gave her a set of wings they usually give the kids and made sure she was comfortable. As they went through the safety announcements at the beginning of the flight she raised her hand when it finished and asked “Where are the parachutes?” They told her kindly that there weren’t any and that anything serious would happen that she would make sure she was taken care of. I’m sure she was talking non-stop to them to aid her fears and nervousness as well as getting to know her new best friends.

Right before takeoff, she asked the flight attendant if she could move to the window. It was a Saturday morning flight that had a lot of open seats, so they told her that was fine. She moves over to the window and the plane takes off. As she leans over to look out the window the plane banks in the same direction which she thinks she caused. She sits back up and the plane levels out. Again, she thinks she has much more control of the plane than she does.

We pick her up at the gate (pre-September 11), ride the plane train to baggage claim, ride the big escalators, pick up her bag and head for downtown for a lunch at the Sun Dial Room on the top of the Westin Hotel (the largest hotel in the South). She is blown away by the traffic and sounds of the big city. Once we get to the restaurant, she gets this odd look on her face and she asks, “are we moving?” “Yes, Gram this is a rotating restaurant, 75 floors up.” We have our lunch and she is having the time of her life. Michelle and I feel really good that we can give her this experience.

The next day, my Company was having our annual summer picnic up at Allatoona Lake. I alerted them that I was bringing a very special guest, and all my friends and coworkers went out of their way to make her feel welcome. As I introduced her around, they would say their names and ask her some questions and then she would reply with “Hi! I’m Alice from Akron!” For years my coworkers and managers would ask me how Alice from Akron was doing. She was a hit! I never had any doubt.

When the week was over, we reversed the process and took her to her plane at Hartsfield and walked down to the gate with her and she jumped on the plane like a pro. Dad picked her up and he said she didn’t stop talking for a month. He did call me later to say thanks but it was my pleasure. He said, I don’t know what you paid for those tickets but to her it was priceless. He told me he would catch her telling her friends at the tower stuff like “On my latest flight down to Atlanta” and “Did I tell you that I had lunch 70 stories in the sky?”

Dementia took her away eventually and she passed in the early 1990s. It was hard to see her go out like that and ultimately, she didn’t know who I was or anyone else for that matter. That is such a cruel way to leave. I’m glad I got to know her better and that we had this experience.

It was the best $138 I ever spent.

A Prayer:

Father, help me not to lose sight of Your deep love for me in the midst of my struggles. I invite Your Spirit to work in and through me to overcome the struggles and obstacles I face.

A Book Recommendation:

A Grace Disguised (How the Soul Grows Through Loss) by Jerry Sittser (1995, 2021)

A Music Recommendation:

Blues of Desperation by Joe Bonamassa (2016)

The Slow Fade

According to my research on the Internet, grief fatigue is a common experience for those navigating loss. When we think of grief, our minds often go to the physical death of a loved one, but grieving can occur after any type of loss, whether it’s related to a job, a relationship, or saying goodbye to a cherished place or thing. The emotional weight of grief can take a toll on our bodies, leading to feelings of tiredness and exhaustion.

Grieving is hard work, and it has taken a toll on me and I’m sure my family as well. I have a strong personality which kicks in when things get difficult and I go into protector mode and try and be a leader in the situation. Sort of like when you’re on a plane and the turbulence starts getting wild. I immediately look at the flight attendants. If they are not afraid, it calms me down. But if they are stressing, I pull the seat belt a little tighter. Whether it is true or not, I feel like people are expecting me to step forward, so I do. I don’t want them to be alone or afraid.

There is a stress scale that was developed by two psychiatrists named Holmes and Rahe in 1967. They studied medical records of about 5,000 people and came up with a points system for 43 stress events in a person’s life. It ranges from 100 points for the death of a parent/spouse to 10 points for small violations of the law like a speeding ticket. You identify how many of the 43 apply to you and add up the corresponding points and if you score 300 points or more there was good correlation that you would become ill. I don’t even want to take the test because I know that over the last decade I would easily top 300. Somedays it feels like a could set a record for high score.

I’m not different from anyone else and at this stage of life the point totals are adding up. Over the past decade I have lost my dad, mom, wife and now brother. I have gone through many stresses with my kids and grandchildren. I retired from work and recently ended a three-year odyssey with the failing health of my brother up to his death last Saturday.

I know it is taking a toll on my health. I have a lot of things that need to be treated and dealt with and if I don’t get it under control it is going to turn (more) serious. As I reflect back on how I got to this point it really has been a slow fade over time. Mental health is the same thing. You can be strong and feel like you got a handle on things and then one day you realize that you have some issues that aren’t going away and you need to talk to someone about it. There are a ton of excuses not to do it but the longer it goes, the slow fade turns into a much bigger problem. Over time this results in grief fatigue and it is exhausting!

I was listening to the radio and a song came on that I had not heard for quite some time. It is called Slow Fade and is done by Casting Crowns which is a Christian rock band out of Atlanta. The lyrics are as follows:

[Verse 1]
Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings
Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow

[Chorus]
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade

[Verse 2]
Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise,
The end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray

[Chorus]
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day.

As I looked back on my brother’s life (or anyone else for that matter) it is easy to be critical and ask questions like why did you do that? or why didn’t you do this instead? Others could do the same of my life. I was speaking with a counselor and a tool that they use is to get a client/patient to write a letter to their 11-year-old self.

As I thought through that I gave a lot of focus on what I would tell myself at 11 to keep me from making really bad decisions and what would I tell me to do to make my life better and fulfilling. There is a ton! I’ve met people that say they don’t regret anything and would do everything exactly the same because it made them the person they are today. Man, that’s not me. I have had a tendency to over think everything, and I am a pretty hard critic on myself, and I think it would be awesome to be able to go back and get some “do overs” based on what I know now.

As I reflected on my brother’s long battle with sobriety and its impact on me and others as well as my own struggles in life, I came up with a few things I would love to have another chance at getting “right.” I would like to share some of those with you in today’s blog.

But First…A Joke:

Being a great father is like shaving. No matter how good you shaved today, you have to do it again tomorrow.

A Verse to Contemplate:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest - Matthew 11:28

Have I Told You This One?

As we got older my brother Allen always teased me when our birthdays would roll around. He loved to jab me that I was the oldest and he was the younger good-looking brother.

Allen passed peacefully last Saturday morning in his sleep. I had come to visit him several times this year in Ohio because his health was failing, and it looked like the end was close. I tried to be there because I didn't want him to be alone. My last visit around Christmas I knew it was going to be the last time before he moved on to eternity. He was heavily sedated, but I hugged him as hard as I could, I kissed him on the top of his head, and I told him I loved him and that I would take care of things.

We could not have been any different. He was very happy to be by himself or around just a few friends and I wanted it to be a big party with a lot of noise. We both looked at the world and approached it in completely opposite directions. We would both wonder out loud which one of us was adopted since there was no way we could be from the same parents, but we were, and we were both proud of it. 

I was bigger and older and always wanted to protect my younger brother. I could beat him up (and did) but you better not lay a hand on him, or you best be looking for me to finish it. One time when we were much younger, I pulled in the driveway, and he was on the porch and looked all beat up and I asked him what happened, and he told me he got jumped by some guys in a car. I told him to get in my car and we went looking for them. We found them and I jumped out of my car and dragged the driver through the window and kicked his ass. You do not mess with him...EVER. 

Our relationship was complicated but there was a love there that ran deep. When we were very young, we were inseparable and did everything together. Once high school started, we seemed to go into different directions. Underneath, we were always brothers even if we were not speaking. I hope he knew that I always had his back. 

We did have many things in common. Our love for the Buckeyes, Browns, Indians, Cavs. Dad ingrained music deeply in us and it was always amazing to look at his music collection and see so many similarities.

Three years ago, we were called three separate times to tell us that he was not going to make it. He was in ICU and on life support for two months. He was spared by the Almighty and given life back. I am convinced of it. That additional three years was so beneficial to me and to many of us that loved him. They were not easy years for sure and there were many challenges. He came and lived with me in Georgia for 8 months and we got to catch up on the 40 or so years that we had been apart. I loved it and hated it at the same time because I knew his time was short, but he fooled us all and got three more years. He was one tough little guy.

As a big brother I cared about him very much and wanted the best for him. I'm sure some of the ways I tried to show that were not accepted as that. It was frustrating because there were things I couldn't beat up and keep from his life. His battles with sobriety just angered me so much and I was sad that we couldn’t have a relationship like others I knew. I wanted to be close and do things together, but I just couldn’t do the things he did, and I wanted him not to want to do them anymore. I always lost that battle.

I'm proud of the way he fought and I'm proud to have called him my brother and yes, he knew how to push my buttons better than anyone. One of the greatest things to happen in the "overtime period" was that he asked Jesus Christ into his heart. That is such a relief to me, and I hope Mom, Dad and Michelle were the first to give him a hug and welcome him to eternity.

As I could list hundreds of things he could have done better that I believe would had made his life (and mine) a whole lot better, I turned the mirror on myself and asked the same questions. What would I tell my younger self to do better? DO THE HARD STUFF, MARK!

One of the main things I would tell myself is to be aware and cautious of the Slow Fade. Life experiences and decisions add up and impact us forever. The slow fade is so stealthy that you won’t realize it is going in a bad direction. Guard yourself with wisdom and have good people around you that will love you enough to have the hard conversations with you and do what they say. Do the hard stuff, Mark.

I would tell me that work is not who you are it’s just what you do. Don’t sacrifice so much for a company that will replace you in a week. Manage your time with the right priorities in place. Do the hard stuff, Mark.

I would tell me that trying to make everyone happy is never going to happen. Learn to have hard talks with people in love and kindness but it is impossible to make everyone like you. Do the hard stuff, Mark.

I would tell me that God has a purpose for me and has gifted me to do it. Don’t worry about tomorrow because today has enough of its own troubles. Live in peace with the Creator. Do the hard stuff,
Mark.

I would tell myself that I am blessed to have a brother and that the relationship was going to be challenging and to prepare to be pushed to the limit sometimes. I would tell myself that God has a plan and purpose for him too and that I need to be encouraging instead of controlling. Do the hard stuff, Mark.

I'm happy you are no longer in so much pain and are eternally free to enjoy life. I bet the music is awesome. See you soon brother, I love you buddy.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I trust You when I face the unknown and praise You for walking with me through the valleys of life. Thank You for leading me to still waters where I can rest in You and restore my soul.

Book Recommendation:

The Men We Need by Brant Hansen (2022)

Music Recommendation:

The Altar and the Door - Casting Crowns (2007)

Free Girl Scout Cookies!

It’s that time of year again! Girl Scout cookie ordering time. Throughout the years I think I’ve put a few kids through college with the boxes of cookies I bought from those precious little entrepreneurs. I can’t (or won’t) say no to them. I’ve bought them from every boss’s kid in my 40 years of working, every neighbor’s kid, every one of my nieces that sold them, stranger’s kids outside of Walmart and the one little girl who chased me through a parking lot at the grocery store that wouldn’t take no for an answer. I told her I didn’t have any cash on me, so she followed me to my car and asked me “How about now?” OK kid, you win! Enjoy your career as a shake down artist!

The best one I have heard about lately is the little genius that set up outside of a “dispensary” in Oregon after folks were buying their CBD products and other “medical” needs. I think she won the national contest for the most boxes sold and bought a house in Maui with her earnings.

Michelle used to give me the side-eye when I’d come rolling in the house with a bag full of those lovely morsels. You know the one, the one where she doesn’t say a word, but you hear “Those are the last things you need big boy.” Regardless, I keep buying them because I like to do my part to help those sweet little girls out, you know…I’m a giver that way!!

So, my favorites are the following in order of enjoyment: (1) Samoas, (2) Thin mints, and (3) Do-si-dos. They are each about 70 - 100 calories per cookie and I’ve never seen anyone each just one. When my doctor looks at my blood test results, he just looks over the top of his glasses at me and says, “put the rest of them in the freezer.” I look at my shoes and say, “rest of them?”. He shakes his head and chews me out, but I tell him to hurry up because the thin mints are melting in my car in the parking lot.

One of the coolest parts of my work coming up through the ranks is that I got to value a number of very interesting businesses over the years. One of the most memorable was a commercial bakery in Augusta, Georgia that made Girl Scout cookies. There are many across the U.S., but this one was one of the biggest and highest producers. I wish I could remember the name now, but it was back in the late 1980’s and I just can’t remember but I do remember a lot about that valuation.

As with most valuations I performed, we would arrive at the plant and talk with those in charge and meet the management of the company and the heads of each department to let them know who we were and what we were doing there and what information we would need. Once that was handled, we would go for a detailed plant tour and get a firsthand look at how the process worked for each respective facility.

In this particular case, I was to see my first ever large-scale baking operation and we happened to be there when they were pumping out TONS of Girl Scout cookies. I tried to maintain my composure, but I had to admit this was pretty cool for a tire builder’s kid from Akron. I was on a team of guys that had done many of these kinds of operations, so I was excited to learn. The very first thing I learned was that you NEVER wear a dark blue suit to a bakery. Why this didn’t occur to me BEFORE I got there is still a mystery, but my “team” thought it would be funny to see the new guy covered in flour and sugar.

Speaking of “new guy”, that’s exactly what I was at the time. The firm had an apprentice model, and I went and gained experience by following these guys around until I could prove to them that I could do it by myself and run a team of my own. I was referred to as the “FNG”. N stands for new, G stands for guy, and I will let your imagination figure out what the F stands for.

The process in a nutshell is as follows: The products being baked are mixed to the recipe’s standards in massive big amounts. This is not the corner bakery we are talking about here. Once the dough is ready it is placed in pans or molds and sent to the ovens. The ovens are called circular ovens are range from 10 to 15 decks high. Once they come out of the ovens, they are cooled in enclosed conveyors that typically are 300 to 400 feet long. At the end of the cooling conveyors, they are packed in boxes, loaded on skids and forklifted into the warehouse or onto the delivery trucks.

After the tour, our team gathered in a conference room that we were going to use as an office until we had completed our work, which consisted of getting all the information we could on the operation and once we were done, we would head back to the Atlanta office and finish up our valuation after doing our research. We would then put a large descriptive report together and send it to the client.

I had been around enough that my supervisors were getting comfortable with me and decided that they were going to give me more responsibility on this valuation, and I was to be in charge of listing and valuing the 10 baking lines in the plant. I was excited and nervous at the same time and definitely did not want to blow this opportunity.

Today’s blog will let you in on how that all went and how I was able to get free Girl Scout cookies!

But First…A Joke:

There was a housepainter who was always looking for a way to save a buck, so he would often thin his paint to make it go further. One day, a local church decided to do a big restoration, and the painter put in a bid. He got the job because his price was so competitive.

Just as he was finishing the job, the painter was up on a scaffold when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder. The sky opened and rain poured down, washing the watery paint off the church and knocking the painter down onto the lawn, surrounded by puddles of thinned and useless paint.

Fearing this was judgment from the Almighty, he got on his kness and cried, “Forgive me! What should I do?”

And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke: “Repaint! Repaint and thin no more!”

A Verse to Contemplate:

But seek first His Kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well - Matthew 6:33

Have I Told You This One?

As I mentioned before, I really like the Samos, Thin Mints and Do-si-Dos. Well, as luck would have it, the first three lines of the 10 total lines were making these cookies. Alright, Alright, Alright!! So, I am writing down the information I need (size, capacity, speed, materials of construction, etc.), taking pictures, watching the whole process from beginning to end. I’m also looking at all the support equipment and control systems. It was very impressive. As I followed the process through to the cooling section I was impressed how slick the process was and how uniform the cookies came out at the end. It was pretty cool.

I repeated my process for each of the 10 lines. Thankfully, they were all almost identical, so it made it relatively easy to describe and list, which is probably why my supervisors were willing for me to take a crack at it.

Well, it’s getting to almost lunch time, and I have been smelling these cookies baking for several hours now and I’m starting to get a bit curious about how these babies taste right off the conveyor. So, I go back to line 1 that had the Samoas (my favorite), and I slowly get close to the conveyors and while trying not to be too obvious I pick one of them up and take a bite. Oh Lordy! It was VERY good.

So, I head on over to the thin mint line and was not able to resist those either. I picked up a couple and scarfed them down (they are smaller you know)! Lordy, those lacked “suckiness” too. Am I in heaven? Nope, but I am on a roll.

No one is saying anything to me, so I decide to do-si-do over to the Do-si-Do line. My willpower wasn’t any better there either as I helped myself to those too. I mean, as a professional I have to be thorough in my research, right?

I head out and take a look and some of the other equipment and control systems and every once in a while, I head on back to the first three lines and help myself to some more of those delicious little delights. What a job I have! I complete my work and I’m about to go back for another round and I hear my name being called over the PA system. “Mark Rutledge, please come to the general manager’s office for an important call". By the by, I’ve never heard my name called over a P.A. system that turned out to be good news, have you?

I go by the conference room and drop my stuff off and head to the general manager’s office. As I walk in there, I notice that he has about 10 boxes each of the Samoas, Thin Mints and Do-si-Dos on his conference table and he asks me to please have a seat. I do as instructed and I’m starting to get a little worried about who was calling me. The GM pulls up a computer screen and asks me a few questions. The first being that even though he just met me he has learned a few things about me. Like an “FNG”, I go “Oh, really, what are they?” He says that he is positive what my favorite cookies are while he starts a video of the lines and an incriminating replay of me raiding the lines. I’m not sure if I should laugh or apologize and he saves me by telling me that these 30 boxes of Girl Scout cookies are mine to keep on one condition. I exhale and say, “What is that?”. He says, “Stop taking cookies off the lines because you are making the packers at the end very angry because you are screwing up the counts. There’s one missing, then 2 missing, etc. I sheepishly look at him and start to apologize when the rest of my team comes in laughing and pointing at me.

The GM was a great guy and let me know that I wasn’t the first and will not be the last to give in to their urges.

When I returned home with 28 boxes of cookies (hee-hee), Michelle again gave that famous side eye and I just said I need to tell you a story and it will all make sense.

That’s an odd way to get some free cookies but I’m a pretty odd guy!

Does anyone know where I can get me some cookies this year?

A Prayer:

Thank You, my gracious and sovereign God, that You have been with me and carried me from the day of my birth until today…that You have known my whole life, from beginning to end, since before I was born…and that You wrote in Your book all the days that You ordained for me to before one of them came to be.

Book Recommendation:

Heaven by Randy Alcorn (2004)

Music Recommendation:

Belly of the Beast - Joe Lynn Turner (2022)

My Love Affair with a Gray Old Lady

The title of today’s blog may be a bit misleading. If you thought I had some weird thing going with a senior citizen at a nursing home…SHAME ON YOU! Today’s blog is going to be about a few of my memories spent up on Lake Erie in Cleveland, Ohio at a place that was as perfect of a building as there could be for the city and teams that it served from 1931 until 1995. Of the 64 years she was around I got to fall in love with her for 35 years. She has been accused of being a Factory of Sadness but that was not her fault.

Growing up in northeast Ohio, I always felt like Cleveland was the center of my small universe. Back in the 1960’s when I was first coming on the scene, Cleveland was a major industrial city in the U.S. It was a major steel producing area, a major automobile manufacturer, a transportation hub and many other things which made it a 24-hour city. It was considered a “blue-collar” city. On average, there are 166 sunny days per year in Cleveland. The U.S. average is 205. While the average snowfall in the U.S. is 28 inches, Cleveland averages 54 inches. This creates some pretty tough folks. Along with a great work ethic, the people I knew worked hard and played hard. I hung out with kids that had parents that worked in steel mills, manufacturing plants, factories, and other similar places. They didn’t take kindly to whiny, weak people who had their feelings hurt very easily. They also were not very good at being “PC”. Tough city, tough people that needed tough teams to cheer on. Not air-conditioned stadiums with valet service but an open-air stadium next to a big ole lake!

We who loved our area of the world grew up with a chip on our shoulder because many liked to make fun of the city. It was the butt of jokes in Johnny Carson’s monologues. Some of it was deserved like the Cuyahoga River catching on fire from being too polluted to being one of a very few major cities to go bankrupt. It seemed like we always had to fight for respect which built an insecurity that is still there today. I heard a term one time that was used to describe the area as “unbeautiful.” Not ugly but definitely not some warmer climate city. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and I know many people that love Cleveland and you best be prepared to rumble if you want to start something.

If Cleveland was in a beauty contest she would be like the girl with jeans and work boots on with a black leather jacket that says, “Bite Me!” on the back. She would have a bandana on and would roll up on a Harley, spit her cigarette out and ask “What Are You Looking At?” Those of us that knew her from the neighborhood would smile and sit back and wait for Miss Florida to start some crap. She would get fourth runner-up but the after party would be a blast!

I was born in Akron, Ohio which is about 40 miles from there and a lot of our people carry the same chips. You can tell someone from the area because they are the ones that will start throwing stuff out about the world-class Cleveland Symphony, world-class Cleveland Clinic, and other stats and information to back up the claim that we are as good if not better than any city you want to try and compare us to.

When the Old Gray Lady was first built, many thought she was so amazing that they described her as potentially the Eighth Wonder of the World. She was beautiful in her youth, but she lived a hard life next to the lake and she slipped away as we all do in time. She was one of the first multi-purpose stadiums to be built for baseball and football. They broke ground to build her on June 24, 1930, and she opened for business right before the fourth of July in 1931. The first event was a World Heavyweight boxing match between Max Schmeling and Young Stribling that drew 37,000 people.

She cost about $60 million in today’s dollars and could seat approximately 80,000 people. She was called a number of things in her lifetime including Cleveland Stadium, Cleveland Municipal Stadium, Lakefront Stadium, and The Mistake on the Lake. To me and my buddies it was just “The Stadium.” No Casino or Insurance Company sponsor, just forget that. The inside had all the beer and cigarette ads you could ever need.

The seats were all made of wood and the decks were held up with more I-beams that I have ever seen used in one facility. It was really hard not to get stuck behind one. To be honest, it wasn’t built great for either sport. If you were under the overhang, you couldn’t see punts or home runs. It was all concrete and not too much of the glass and other nice things you see in modern stadiums. But when the Yankees were in town you could get over 80,000 people in there which was pretty cool. In the men’s restroom they had trenches dug in the floor so you could just come and relieve yourself right in the floor. It always seemed to smell bad, especially towards the end.

Initially, the Cleveland Indians were the main tenant. They used to play at League Field before the Stadium was built. They played in 1932 to 1933 and then for several years they played at both locations until finally moving there on a full-time basis in 1937. This beautiful lady hosted the last MLB championship for the Tribe in 1948 and a World Series close call in 1954.

In 1945, the Cleveland Rams won an NFL championship there and decided to move to Los Angeles a month later (typical!).

In 1946 the newly formed Cleveland Browns starting using the stadium for football games. The Browns won the All American Football Conference (pre-NFL) championship from 1946-1949. In 1950, they moved to the NFL and won the NFL championship that first year. Over the next eight years they won two more NFL championships (1954 and 1955) and came in second four times. They were one of the dominant teams of that era.

I was born in 1960 so all of these events happened before I was born but I loved to sit at the knee of my dad and grandparents and listen to the stories of how great it was to go to the Stadium and experience all the big events that were going on in Cleveland.

I would like to share three stories that drew me into a love affair with this special gal and would love to hear yours.

But First…A Joke:

Patient: Doctor, my stomach is getting really big.

Doctor: You should diet.

Patient: What color?

A Verse to Contemplate:

He knows where I am going. And when He tests me, I will come out as pure as gold - Job 23:10 (NLT)

Have I Told You This One?

My First Game (1968)

My earliest memory of going to the Stadium was in 1968. I had just turned eight and my dad took me and the family up for a baseball game with the Tigers. I had just started playing little league and played for the Tigers, so I was fired up and very excited to go.

On the drive up I-77 North I saw some things that I had never seen before. As we got closer to the city we started traveling by the steel mills that you could see from the highway. You could look right into one of the gigantic furnaces. I asked my dad what that was and he told me that was how they made steel. I had no idea what that meant but the fire scared me to death. There were mountains of coal outside this plant which was used to fire the furnaces. It was apocalyptic looking for me and I began to wonder where the heck the stadium was in this land of stuff on fire. Once we hit East 9th Street we turned and headed for the lake. I have never been anywhere at this point and when the lake came into view, I thought it was majestic. I was told this was the smallest of the Great Lakes. WOW! We parked in a muni lot that was covered in cinders and crunched loudly as we were waved into our spot. My dad was always a nervous driver and didn’t care much for big places, so we got there well before the game was to start. He took us down to the lakefront and we looked at all of the huge ships and manufacturing facilities. We ate at a restaurant right on the 9th Street pier which was very amazing.

It was time to head in for the ballgame, so we walked toward the Stadium through the parking lots and across the railroad tracks over steel bridges that put us on the stadium property. As we headed up a small grade, I finally saw the Stadium for the first time. I saw the neon Chief Wahoo swinging a big bat and smiling as the sign underneath said Go Indians! We walked through the turnstiles and found our section. You walk up these big ramps to get to the seats and once you reach the top it opens up and I got my first view of the greenest grass I had ever seen and with the lake in the background it was nothing short of amazing. We found our row and the usher walked us in and wiped our seats off with his cloth. My dad flipped him a silver dollar and we sat down and I was about to explode. We could see right into the Indians dugout. There were my idols and they were so close I could almost reach out and touch them. I knew all those guys. They actually had a really good team that year with some fantastic players. Sam McDowell, Luis Tiant, Tony Horton, and many more. My dad got the vendor to get us some peanuts and he told me to enjoy and just throw the shells on the floor. Seriously!?

The Star-Spangled Banner is played, and dad tells me to stand and take off my hat and explains why it is important to do that. The game starts and the guys run out on the field. I’m cheering like a fool and dad just smiles. When the Indians came up to bat Tony Horton was coming up and dad tells me to watch closely because these guys are professionals, and I can learn something. Horton gets rung up and strikes out and slowly walks to the dugout. Dad leans over and says, “See how he handled that?” “Yes”, I say and as soon as I get it out of my mouth Horton steps into the dugout and fires his batting helmet into the wall and shatters it into pieces! I just slowly turn back at dad, and he is laughing and suggests we might want to watch somebody else today.

It was also the first time I heard guys yelling at the players for either encouragement or criticism. During the game they brought in Steve Mongori to be a relief pitcher. For whatever reason my dad did not like Mr. Mongori. The whole time he is pitching my dad is mumbling about this bum that couldn’t get anyone out. I don’t know why I thought that was so funny, but for years every time we were watching or listening to a game and Mongori came in my dad would lose it and I would chuckle. You could set your watch by it. I would poke the bear and say to dad “Hey they are bringing in Mongori what do you think of that?” He would say “Mongori’s ass, he couldn’t get me out!” I can still hear it.

I think it cost my dad $8,000 in concessions that day, but I had a ball. He took me to the bathroom about every time someone got a hit. We would get to the ramps just in time to hear the crowd erupt. But, hey I got to pee in the floor trench, so there’s that.

Ten Cent Beer Night (1974)

For my 14th birthday in 1974 dad took me, my brother and my friend Jeff to the Stadium to see the Tribe take on the Texas Rangers. What we didn’t know until we got there was that they were running a promotion for this weekday game, Ten Cent (unlimited) Beer Night (what could possibly go wrong!).

A little backstory. The teams had just played in Texas and things got chippy. Billy Martin was the manager of the Rangers, so you know he wasn’t going to let it go. The game started to progress, and the copious amounts of dime beers had started to take affect. People started jumping on to the field and running around and the cops would track them down and arrest them. Streaking was a thing then, so a LOT of people were running around naked, and the liquored-up crowd kept urging them to do more and more.

Meanwhile the game itself started getting heated with hard slides, bean balls and other niceties. There was a play at second and after a hard slide the players started to fight. People poured out of the stands and started fighting the Rangers players. It was NUTS! It was real fights and cops were trying to get people off the field, but it just kept getting worse. I looked over at my dad and it was the first time in my life that I had ever seen him afraid. So, this develops into a riot and the police finally get some order restored and then the PA announcer says that the Indians have been forced to forfeit the game and everyone needs to leave the Stadium immediately.

As kids, we just sat there thinking how funny this was not understanding how dangerous it was and then suddenly they turn the Stadium lights off, ALL of them! It gets real dark on the lake at night with no lights. Dad grabs us and tells us to hold each other’s hands and to stick close. We shuffle out and outside of the Stadium was Crazytown. Mounted police were going through the crowds at full gallop. Police cars, paddy wagons, officers chasing people down, people fighting, and more.

Luckily, we got out of there and got back to the car and made it back to Akron without any further problems. Needless to say, there was never another ten-cent beer night. But What A Night
That Was!! I don’t think dad ever went back after that.

World Series of Rock (1978)

I had just graduated from high school in June of 1978 and was all grown up and educated so I was looking to do “grown up” stuff. My friend Bob and I got some tickets to attend the World Series of Rock which were concerts held at the Stadium in the mid to late 1970’s. The concert we were going to attend was on July 15, 1978. Electric Light Orchestra was the headliner and Journey and Foreigner were the supporting bands.

So, these two 18-year-old rockers head up to the Stadium for a long day of rock n’ roll and other shenanigans. WHAT A SIGHT that was! We received quite the education that day. The music was great, and it felt really freeing to be there. We got seats under the overhang which was shaded and enjoyed the goings on. I’m not a doctor but I’m pretty sure many people were taking a LOT of medicine that day. Crazy sights.

Journey and Foreigner were just coming on the music scene, and they were really good. Journey had just released Infinity and it was taking off and Foreigner had recently released their first album and it was blowing up. ELO was a unique act. They came out of a spaceship which was lowered by cranes on to the stage. They were also using lasers which had just started to be a thing. They were firing them off of the light standards which really made it powerful.

The Old Gray Lady hosted her last Browns game in December of 1995 when Art Model moved the team to Baltimore and became the Ravens. The city fought hard to keep a team in Cleveland which included demolishing the Stadium and shoving it into Lake Erie to form a man-made reef. A new stadium was built on the same footprint and a new team started playing there in 1999.

My romance came to an end with this special lady. I have never been to the new one. It feels like I would be cheating on my girl.

I don’t get misty when they tear down old buildings like some, but this one stung a little bit. A lot of good memories were made in that place, and I haven’t lived in Ohio for forty years now, but that place was a big part of my youth, and I will never forget her.

It wasn’t a place for cheerleaders in skimpy outfits. The football team didn’t even have an emblem on their helmets. It was a tough old place for tough hard-working people. One final memory. Me and a few of my buddies came back into town for one last Indian game in 1993 because the team was moving to a brand-new modern stadium at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario. As me and the other guys in our early thirties were walking in for one last look, we noticed some graffiti on the outside of the building that they apparently decided to leave which read “Fxxx The Steelers”.

I just love that old girl.

Share some memories if you have any.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, You love me even when I am unlovable. Grow my capacity to be loved by You so I can grow in capacity to love You and others.

Book Recommendation:

Suffering by Paul David Tripp (2018)

Music Recommendation:

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars - David Bowie (1971)

On A Midnight Chevette to Georgia

As February rapidly approaches, it always seems to get me thinking about my life in Georgia. This February will be forty years since I left northeast Ohio for Atlanta, Georgia to seek my fame and fortune with my newly minted college degrees in hand and with my cutie pie. If you have a few minutes I would love to tell you our story. Sound good?

My story actually begins several years before February of 1984. In fact, it started back in my last few years of high school. I had a teacher for accounting named John Durham (“Mr. Durham” or “Coach”) for my junior and senior years. I had an interest in accounting and thought I might pursue that in college, so I was giving it a trial run. Mr. Durham was also the golf coach for Ellet High School, and he was a fan of the football team which I was a member of back then.

Coach was originally from Georgia and had a southern drawl when he spoke. Everyone thought it was different and funny the way he talked but for whatever reason Coach took an interest in me and seemed to spend a lot of time with me during class. One day he came to me and asked “Mawwrrk, what are you planning on doing once you graduate?” I told him that I was planning on going to college to study business, specifically accounting or finance and then as soon as possible I was heading for Florida. I was tired of the winters in Ohio, and I had heard recently that it was a law in Ohio that every Ohio resident had to spend at least a portion of your life in Florida, so I was willing to do my part as a law-abiding citizen of the great state of Ohio. He grinned and moved his chair closer and asked, “can I tell you something valuable?” “Absolutely Coach, what is it?” He told me that Georgia was the place to go, NOT Florida. Atlanta was booming and said that for what I wanted to do, that was where I should head. “No disrespect Coach, but isn’t Georgia what you drive through to get to Florida?” I had never considered Georgia for a second. Of course, I was only basing my decision on a few trips our family went on to Daytona Beach where my uncle lived, But still…..Georgia?….Seriously? He told me to think about it and not to reject it out of hand so quickly. Politely I assured him I would consider it but to be honest, I didn’t think about it at all until several years later.

So, I graduate from Ellet in 1978 with pretty good grades but not Ivy League worthy for sure. No one in my family had ever graduated from college and had not even attended for more than a semester or two prior to me trying to get someone to take me in and give me some “book learning”. I sat around with my buddies (which many were in a similar position) and in about 30 minutes we decided to go to the University of Akron. It pretty much went something like this: “Hey, are you guys going to go to college?”, “Yes”, “Where are you going to go?”, “Akron”, “What are going to study?”, “Business and Finance”, “Sounds good, I’m in.” That was the level of my in-depth study and research about my future.

I informed my parents about my decision and they thought it was a GREAT idea and were real proud of their sweet little want-a-be business tycoon. I’m thinking to myself, “that was easy!” I push on, “How much have you guys saved for my college?” “Um, that would be $0 dollars son.” We are behind all the way big fella, let us know how we can be of help. Now I know why the first part was so easy.

Well, I went and got a couple jobs and started working my way through school and in five years I had put in the work to graduate with degrees in Industrial Management and Computer Science and was at another crossroad trying to figure out what to do next, now that I was so smart and everything!

Michelle and I had been dating since the beginning of high school and we were also looking forward to moving our relationship to the next level. I had asked her dad and mom if I could marry her two years earlier and we were married in August of 1982. She helped support us and helped me pay tuition and I graduated in 1982 and 1983. Her family had moved to Florida a few years earlier (fulfilling their Ohio duty) and Michelle had been living with roommates in Ellet and I was living at home with my parents who allowed me to stay at home which helped a lot in being able to get through school with no debt. I moved in with her at her duplex once we were married.

I looked for a job for six months after I had graduated. I had no idea of how to do that which didn’t help since the job market was in terrible shape as most of the tire factories had started to close and move south. I was getting very disappointed and desperate. It was dubious to me as to why so many people were passing on their opportunity to secure the employment of the Rutmachine. I kept all of my rejection letters and I still have them today. Over 300 of the finest businesses in the world said no to yours truly. How could they be so dumb and still run those big corporations?

Michelle was so supporting and encouraging and every once in a while, would suggest we start looking south for work. She believed in me which was the only thing that kept me going some days. I know she missed her parents but I really wanted to make it in Akron but it was not looking good. My last big hope was a potential job at Goodyear Aerospace. I knew some of the people that were hiring so I thought I had an “in”. I prepared for my interview like I was preparing for the bar exam. I knew everything that Aerospace was involved with, and I was loaded for bear with information. The interviewers seemed to like me and commented that I was quite prepared and would “let me know”. Uh oh. I’ve heard that one before. I followed up with the people I knew and they said it was down to me and one other person. It wasn’t me. I was pretty torn up and decided it was time to start looking south.

This was also back when OPEC had started raising the price of gas to over a $1.00 per gallon (THE HORROR!). To try and offset that we sold our gas guzzlers and bought our first family car, a Chevrolet Chevette. If you look up “piece of crap” (POC) in the dictionary, a picture of our car would be right there! Goodnite!

Ah, but soon, I would be headed to Georgia (que Gladys Knight) on a midnight Chevette to Georgia!!

But First…A Joke:

Jesus and Moses are playing golf, and they’re on the tenth hole. Moses hits the ball, and it heads straight for a pond. Just before the ball hits the water, the water parts and the ball rolls up onto the green.

Jesus tees up and hits one almost in the exact spot. Jesus’ ball hits the water and skips across.

All of a sudden, lightning flashes, and a ball drops from the sky. A fish swallows it, a bird picks up the fish, and the ball drops onto a turtle, which walks over to the hole and drops it in.

Moses turns to Jesus and says, “I hate it when your dad plays!”

Bonus Dad Joke:

I just watched a documentary about how boats are held together. It was riveting!

A Verse to Contemplate:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore, I will wait for him.” - Lamentations 3: 22-24

Have I Told You This One?

This was before the Internet, so research on companies was done the old fashion way, at the library. Akron did have a job placement office and I worked with them and sent hundreds of cold resumes to Florida and some to North and South Carolina. As I was doing this, my brain kicked back to my conversations with Coach Durham, “Mawwrrk, Georgia is the place to go!” Trying to be true to my word, I looked into Atlanta, and I was knocked over with the number of big companies there were to consider. I sent probably 100 more resumes to Atlanta and that’s when I knew Coach was on to something. In less than a week I had received a dozen responses wanting to talk to me. I had noted on my cover letter that I would be down in Atlanta visiting family and friends in a few weeks and would love to speak with them while I was in the area. Whatever works right?! I knew no one in Georgia but I scheduled a dozen interviews and headed to Georgia. I had a buddy who worked for Holiday Inn at the time and he got me a room for cheap in Marietta. I kissed my bride and off I went.

Being a somewhat typical twenty-something, I decided to play basketball with some guys at church the evening before I was supposed to be in Atlanta for interviews. I thought, I can play ball and then drive all night and be there in plenty of time. So, I played hoops got into my POC and hit the road for the 600-mile overnight drive. About halfway there I started having trouble staying awake but pressed on until I realized I did a headbob which woke me up (while moving). I freaked and pulled into a rest area to take a quick power nap. As soon as I got comfortable a state trooper knocked on my window and sent me on my way. I drove all night and got there with an hour to spare. I got my room, took a shower, put my suit on and headed for my first interview (which ended up being my first job!).

For the next two days, I went on interviews and felt that some of them went very well. I really liked the first company, American Appraisal Associates and hoped they would give me an offer. I had one more interview in Mobile, Alabama which was close to my in-laws in Pensacola, Florida. I started making a number of calls to my contact from American Appraisal and bugged them to death until they hired me over the phone. I called Michelle and told her to start packing and headed home in the POC. I could finally start making some money and leading my family.

I wanted the job so bad, that I told them I could start the following Monday. I had to get home, get packed and get back down to Atlanta. Me and the POC got to know each other very well over the next few days. I got a roof carrier from U-Haul and put it on my POC, loaded up my clothes, TV, cooler, yard chair and records and headed to my new home.

I had been so busy and focused that I didn’t really take any time to think about the fact that I was moving out for good. I had never been too many places in my life and never anywhere as big as Atlanta which had about 1.5 million people at the time (now it is closer to 8 million). As I was getting ready to go from the duplex and knew I had to go say goodbye to my parents and sister. I always thought I was going to be in Akron for my whole life. I never lived on my own until I was married. The reality was setting in and it was a bit daunting. I headed over to Stevenson Avenue and sat with my mom for a bit. Dad was at work so I couldn’t say goodbye to him that night. I gave my little sister a hug and left before I turned into a sloppy mess. It was time to put my big boy pants on.

As I was pulling out of the driveway, I slowly drove by the house to get a long look. As I looked back, I could see my sister holding the cat and waving at me through the windows in the door. My big boy pants were going to have to wait. I was a blubbering fool until I reached Cincinnati. Once I crossed the river and got into Kentucky, I put them big boy pants on for good. The number of emotions going through me was amazing, but I was so proud and excited to be REALLY on my own.

A few weeks later in the first part of February I flew Michelle down. There was a heavy snowstorm going on and she barely got out of Cleveland before they shut the airport down. When she got to Atlanta it was still 65 degrees. I drove her to our new home in Marietta, Georgia that she had never seen and I’m sure she had great concern over what I would pick out for us, but she trusted me, and I found a really nice place for our first home. The next day was Saturday, and we got the newspaper and spread it out on the floor of our apartment and started looking for jobs for her. She called a law firm and had a job that day!

We slept in sleeping bags in our unfurnished place. I needed a pair of pliers to change the channel on our TV, but I had plenty of records and my stereo, so we had enough. I apologized to her that I wasn’t able to afford furniture yet as we sat in lawn chairs next to the cooler in the living room. She then said the nicest thing she ever said to me in my life. She said, “I would sleep in the yard in a tent as long as we are together.”

My God, not bad for a tire builder’s kid from Akron.

We started work on February 27, 1984. It snowed! We were one of the few people to show up for work. Atlanta is not hip to snow. I think I’m going to be alright.

Coach, you were right buddy! Thank you for the advice, Georgia is awesome.

A Prayer:

Spirit of God, I am incapable of loving and honoring others on my own. Empower me to love and honor those who are difficult to respect in the same way You shower me with Your unmerited mercy, grace, and love.

Book Recommendation:

Moneyball by Michael Lewis (2003)

Music Recommendation:

The Way I See It - Raphael Saadiq (2008)

Rock N’ Roll Blizzard of 1978

You would have to be living under a rock or in south Florida to not be aware of the weather in the U.S. over the past week or so. There has been major snowstorms and a serious cold wave hitting as winter finally makes its arrival known with emphasis. If you are of a certain age (mine), you will undoubtedly remember the “Blizzard of 1978”. If you grew up in northeast Ohio like my family and I, you definitely remember it! Again, those of us of a certain age sit back at parties and when people start talking about how hard winter can be, we let them run with the line for a little bit and then we drop the hammer on them with something that goes like this: “That’s a nice little story you have there friend, but sit down and let me tell you a REAL story about a Blizzard you young whippersnapper!” “Back in my day….” Am I really that old?

First, a little background. When I was of school age WE WENT TO SCHOOL in the winter. In Akron, Ohio the school commissioner was a man named Conrad C. Ott. Rumor had it that the deciding factor if we were going to go to school came down to Mr. Ott’s ability to get his newspaper in the morning. On the snowy cold winter days if he got the Beacon Journal of the Plain Dealer, our rear ends were heading to school. We may have all looked like Ralphie’s brother from A Christmas Story with so many sweaters and coats on that we couldn’t put our arms down to our side and never mind that we probably had bread bags inside our boots and newspaper inside our coats, we were going.

I moved to Atlanta, Georgia in 1984 and they close school before a single flake has fallen here. Just on the possibility that it might snow! I have a conspiracy theory that the grocery stores are behind it, but I can’t prove it. Anytime they need to move some milk and bread, a weather report comes out that it MIGHT snow. That’s enough to shut it all down. Creampuffs!

Much like this year, the Midwest winter at the end of 1977 had been somewhat mild through the holidays. However, in January of 1978 the worst winter in the past 100 years started to hit and it hit like Dick Butkus. It snowed so much it was called the “White Hurricane” and it also featured some of the lowest barometric pressure readings ever recorded in the continental United States. As if the snow was not enough to deal with, wind gusts were said to be as high as 80 miles per hour and visibility was near zero. This dropped the dreaded wind chill factor to minus 50 degrees. The “Great Blizzard of 1978” would shut down schools, businesses and transportation for days. The storm was so intense that the Ohio Turnpike was shut down for the first time in history. By the end of it more than 50 people died as a result of the storm, while 5,000 National Guard members were called in to help.

We had to go live with relatives for about a week since we lost power in the house. When we came back the shampoo was frozen in the shower. I still think that winter was the catalyst for me eventually moving south for the milder winters (I know…Creampuff!)

I was in my senior year of high school and had a huge case of senioritis. You know that disease that hits when you are a few months away from graduation but still had to finish it out, but your head wasn’t really into it. So, I didn’t care too much that school was shut down. THAT’S how bad it was. Conrad didn’t get his paper apparently.

My poor Mom was classified as an essential employee because she worked at the hospital. We had so much snow covering our house and yard that there was no way she was getting out to go to work. Or so we thought. When she called in that she was stranded they told her to get ready and that they were sending the National Guard to come and get her and then they showed up knocking on the door a few minutes later. Back then they didn’t shovel side roads until the main roads had been cleared. It wouldn’t stop snowing so the snow removal guys took some time to show up on Stevenson Avenue.

Hey Rut, that’s a nice weather report but what does that have to do we rock n’ roll buddy? I’m glad you asked! Hang in there, I’m going somewhere with this.

I ran with a lot of guys who liked to go to concerts. We went to a bunch. The local Cleveland radio station, WMMS “The Buzzard” was voted the best rock station by Rolling Stone magazine for about 10 years in a row. When major acts went on tour, Cleveland was a place most if not all of them made sure to visit. I loved it as a kid, we could see shows all the time.

Back in the late 70’s if you wanted tickets for a concert you had to find the closest Ticketron outlet and wait in line with the masses and hope they didn’t run out before you got to the front of the line. Some of my buddies and I would take turns getting tickets for shows, which meant when it was your turn you had to stand in line and if it was a BIG show you might have to bring a sleeping bag to get a good spot in the line. For the Led Zeppelin show, one of our guys was in line for two days! The tickets usually went on sale months before the show and so we sat there in suspense as time chugged along until it would finally be time to see the show.

During the winter of 1978 there was one show that we had circled, and we made sure that we had tickets. The “hottest band in the land,” KISS. Kiss was playing on January 8th. My blog today shares a story of how the hardest winter of the century kicked off on the same day we were scheduled to see KISS at the Coliseum in Richfield, Ohio.

But first…A Joke:

A lifeguard told a mother to make her young son stop peeing in the pool. “Oh, what’s the big deal?” the mother protested. “All kids from time to time will pee in a pool.” “Oh really?” asked the lifeguard. “From the diving board?”

A Verse to Contemplate:

The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life - Job 33:4

Have I Told You This One?

As the day of the KISS show approached, I started to get really excited. I am a sucker for all the glitz and over the stop stuff this band delivered in their stage show. They had costumes, explosions, smoke bombs, drum and platform risers, lights, sirens, flash bombs and a ton of other stuff. Paul, Gene, Peter and Ace were at their summit of popularity that they had been building since the mid 1970s. They had just released their second live record, Alive II, which was hoping to continue their rise and the stage show was being advertised as the best out there. I had all the records and knew most of the songs and could not wait for my first time to see them perform. As I’m sitting around the day of the show, which was a Sunday, I asked my dad if i could borrow his car to drive to my buddy’s house. We were all meeting there and a mutual friend was going to drive us in his old 1966 Ford. Dad looked outside and it was snowing HARD. He said he didn’t think it would be a great idea for me to drive his car in a blizzard. He had heard the weather reports, and I was in the process of doing the best sales job of my life. I finally wore him down and he had just one condition. I had to have the car back so he could go to work at 5:30 am. No problem, Pops, you can trust ole Markus P. so off I went. I had just recently got my driver’s license and was not as good of a driver as I thought I was. When you are 17 you can convince yourself that almost any bad idea is a GREAT idea. Driving in a blizzard to a rock show was probably not the wisest decision I would ever make, but c’mon I paid $8 for those tickets….I HAD to go, right?

They built the Coliseum in between Cleveland and Akron in the early 1970s anticipating that the two cities were growing closer together and eventually it would draw people from both cities to events. The newly awarded Cavaliers of the NBA had their home in the middle of cow pastures known as Richfield. It was great for us Akron folks, we didn’t have to drive all the way into Cleveland and the access to the highway was perfect. However, as we were headed for the show the snow started coming down in historic levels. It was being measured in feet per hour versus inches per hour. We decided to go the “back way” and avoid the interstates. It was taking FOREVER! The snow was that kind of snow that hypnotizes you as you drive into it.

We were pregaming on the way and goofing around and trying to see through the fogged-up windows and missed our turn at 303 (if you know, you know) and ended up in Twinsburg before realizing we needed to turn around. The snow was the real wet kind that you can make snowballs the size of watermelons in seconds. Kinda cool but it was having a bad impact on the old car we were in. Everything was getting wet and clogged. We stopped for gas and once we refueled, the car would not start. NO WAY! Not now. This was back when there were no cell phones so we were stranded in a blizzard in the middle of nowhere with the only thing of value being $8 KISS tickets that were about to be worthless since we couldn’t get to the show. We sat there in the gas station trying to come up with any idea to get us to the show.

As I sat there, I could hardly see five feet in front of me. We could make out car lights every once in a while, and we would run out and throw up a thumb and hoped someone could give us a ride. No luck. The gas station owner said “Boys, I’m sorry but I’m closing the station and heading home.” Now we are out in a blizzard in the dark and it is snowing like crazy. We look down the street and we see some lights headed our way. We run to the side of the road next to this huge ditch and squint our eyes as the lights get closer. We put out our thumbs and all notice immediately that it is a large snow scrapper coming at us in a big hurry. We all jump into the ditch and get buried by an avalanche of snow. We dig ourselves out and accept defeat. We are not going to see the show. No Deuce, Strutter, Detroit Rock City, Shout It Out Loud…NOTHING.

As we are walking back across the street to the gas station with our heads down and our spirits deflated, a Chevy Impala rolls up stocked full of girls! (I KNOW!). They asked us where we were going, and we told them to KISS concert. They said that they were headed the show too and would give us a ride to the Coliseum, but we would have to get a ride home. We’re Back!! Off to the show we go, and the snow is piling up. As a card-carrying member of the KISS Army, I would not be deterred from my assignment to Rock and Roll All Nite and (you know the rest).

In young humans the frontal lobes are the last part of the brain to develop which is why so many young people make terrible decisions. This is the part of the brain that allows you to determine if something is dangerous or not. They literally have brain damage until the frontal lobes are fully developed. Development usually is finished by 18 but some don’t fully develop until people are 30. Ours apparently were in the later versus the former.

These girls were great and got all of us to the show. The weather also delayed the band a long time to get there, and the show started late so we did not miss a note. We found our seats, took a small breath and then the house lights went down, and the show was on. WHAT A SHOW it was! Halfway through the show Paul Stanley gave an update that it was still snowing hard. It started to sink in that we were stuck without a ride home and there was literally five feet of new snow in the parking lot. No one was going anywhere for some time.

After the show ended, we started looking around for some of our friends that we knew were at the show and asked for a ride home. Somehow, we found a ride for each of the four of us and it took hours to get back to Akron which was only about 20 miles away. I arrived back at my car at my buddy’s house around 2:00 am completely exhausted. I still had a few hours left to get my Dad’s car back for him to use so I needed to scoot.

It took me a solid 25 minutes to dig out the car and warm it up. As I got in, I cut the wheels too much and the front right tire went over some newly laid curbs. The car was now stuck. I got out and said naughty words and went in to call my dad. Just what I did NOT want to do, call Dad in the last two hours of his sleep and tell him his car is stuck. The same car he didn’t want me to take in the first place! I dialed him up and his response was a classic: “Thanks for calling Mark, just have the car home in time for me to go to work” and then he hung up as I was sitting there saying “but..but..but.” My buddy asked “What did Wayne say?” I told him but I’m pretty sure dad was using a lot of sarcasm (Ya think?).

So back out in the snow I go. I tried a bunch of things that didn’t work to free the car. I was amazed how clear the mind is when you are up against the clock and your life may be over. As a last resort. I took the jack out of the car and jacked up the front a bit and then ran as hard as I could and hit the car hard enough to pop it back over the curb. It worked, I couldn’t belive it. To this day, that was the day I became a full believer in guardian angels! Mine gets migraines.

I look at the clock and it is 5:00 am. I slowly drive home and hit the driveway and carefully put the car in park and take another long breath. I get out, open the back door and hand my Dad the keys as he is heading out for work. “How was the show?” he asked.

“Unbelievable, I said, Unbelievable.”

A Prayer:

Father, when I rest in You, it’s so much easier to stand firm in my 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:

Everybody’s Normal Till You Get To Know Them by John Ortberg (2003)

Music Recommendation:

Strangers in the Night by UFO (1978)

Naked At Work

Welcome to 2024!

For me, the ending of one year and the beginning of another year typically is a reflective time and a time to do some self-evaluation of the things I planned to do versus what I actually did and to make plans for the new year with optimism and hope. I desire to do better, be better, be healthier, be kinder, be a better leader and to hopefully have more fun and enjoy the gift of more days and more years.

One way to achieve these things is to be more realistic and to not take myself so seriously. Sometimes, I get wrapped up way too much in ME and my expectations of others might be a bit too elevated. Said another way, if you can’t laugh at yourself, you might want to take a few steps back and take a few deep breaths. Life is hard enough without laughing once in a while and if you are anything like me there is plenty of material to bring out a snicker or ten.

I have also been a big believer in “practice what you preach” so I am going to share a story about ME that I’m pretty sure you can relate to as well as start your year off with a good giggle.

A little backstory for you all.

Before I retired, I worked as a financial consultant (that’s not the funny part!) and my firm and I would help people determine what the fair market value was of their companies and/or assets to assist them for tax purposes or to assist if they were looking to buy or sell. Private company stock does not have the same market as public companies and therefore people like me can make a living helping them figure it out. For example, if a partner wants to buy in or buy out, we provide an analysis and report as well as a conclusion of what we think it is worth on the secondary private market. It’s not as exciting as changing light bulbs on the top of cell phone towers but it pays the bills!

At the time of this story, I am about to share, I was climbing the ladder in my firm and was hoping to get a promotion to the next level up (a goal I had set for myself that year) and a raise in pay. This particular day we were to meet with a very high-level client that was looking to acquire another company and had hired us to be their valuation consultant and transaction manager. My team and I had done a ton of work analyzing both companies and preparing documents for a meeting that was to be held in the early afternoon. I had some difficulty sleeping the night before as a ton of things were running through my brain and it was futile to shut it off. So, I tossed and turned all night and then got up early and put my suit and tie on, polished my shoes and made sure to get to work early. I REALLLY did not want to blow this opportunity. Doing so would have been a CLM (career limiting move). It was chance to shine, and I was ready…or at least I thought so.

My story today looks back and one thing that I did not anticipate on happening but was hilarious. The story of me being Naked At Work.

But First …. A Joke:

A little potty humor…..

Ran out of toilet paper and now using lettuce leaves.

Today was just the tip of the iceberg, tomorrow romaines to be seen.

A Verse to Contemplate:

Be very careful, then, how you live - not as unwise but wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil - Ephesians 5: 15 - 16

Have I Told You This One?

Early warning: The following story is a sophomoric bathroom fable. If that is not your thing you can stop reading right now. If it is your thing…we can be GOOD friends!

Alright, I show up to work and I go through my presentation and analysis for the 103rd time and I feel confident that I am ready for launch. As I am sitting there playing my presentation through in my mind, I checked to make sure my tie was perfect, my shoes were glowing, what was left of my hair looked okay and made sure my shirt tail was not sticking out. Check, check, check and check. As the meeting was about an hour away, I convinced myself to take one last run to the bathroom and take another breath mint. Details matter my friends.

Here’s where the story takes a way different turn.

As I am walking to the office bathroom, I get the dreaded stomach “gurgle”. Oh no, not now! I had been very careful to not eat anything that day that might cause me to have to step away from the meeting, but I must have had too much cheese and not enough fiber (if you get my drift). The stress may have had something to do with it as well but regardless it was something that had to be dealt with immediately.

So instead of going to the urinal I head to the water closet to quickly do my “business” (or so I hoped). I get in there and I take my suit coat off and hang it up on the hook I have never used in my life on the back of the door. Next, I carefully undo my belt and gently slide my suit pants to the top of my shoes and take my place on the porcelain throne. I proceed to start my business transaction with the throne and suddenly realize that there is a problem. I was trying to remember when I may have ingested some Super Glue because things were not going “smoothly” (if you get my drift, again), in fact, I felt like I was trying to pass a regulation size football sideways.

The problem with this was that I had started to work up a pretty good sweat and I then was worried about ruining my shirt and other parts of clothing. So I did what any clear thinking individual would do; I took my socks and shoes off. I tried to punt the football once again with no luck. Off came the tie and shirt. Sat back down and tried again. My dad would have been proud of me because I did what he taught me which was “if you’re going to do something, give it your all.” Man, I certainly was doing that.

Now I have been in there for about a half an hour. My face is purple, I’m sweating like a pig, and I’m naked at work in the bathroom stall. My boss sends someone to look for me and this poor unfortunate soul comes in and yells “You okay Rut?”, “Do you need any help?” I meekly whisper “No, I’m fine, I’ll be out in a few seconds.” This was a lie.

Now I have extra pressure because I have to get done and put myself back together and the client is due to be there in about 15 minutes.

I start walking around in the stall psyching myself up and then I return to the scene of the crime and with all I can give I finished the drill (Coach McLain would have been so proud of me!). I took about 10 deep breaths and wiped the sweat from my brow and redressed in what seemed like seconds. I then did a penguin walk back into the office just in time to be at my desk when the client showed up. My boss came in to give me a last-minute pep talk and looked at me and said, “Damn, buddy, you alright!” “You know it, and don’t let anyone go into the bathroom for a few weeks,” He gave me an odd look (not the first one) and wished me luck.

The good news is that I nailed the presentation (since I didn’t have to sit down the entire time) and the client was impressed and happy with our plan and approach, so we got the job. I will never forget the day I was Naked At Work, and hopefully neither will YOU!!

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, You made me with a unique purpose and calling. Help me to stay focused on my mission and run the race You set before me. Give me the wisdom to be aware of distractions that cause sideways energy. I want to fulfill Your mission and calling for my life.

Book Recommendation:

Bo’s Cafe by Bill Thrall, Bruce McNicol and John Lynch (2009)

Music Recommendation:

Terminal Velocity by John Petrucci (2020)

Mark The Mongolian

I stepped outside today into the bright sunny 30-degree weather day to go get the mail and to put out my trash for collection. It was a big day for me and I’m glad to say that I pulled it off like a champ. Probably not as good as my performance last week, but practice makes perfect. I will keep you updated!

While doing this errand it reminded me of a time, I spent in Mongolia almost twenty years ago in 2006. What triggered my memory was that I can remember how sunny it was when we went outside but how cold it was (every day was double digits below zero). I grew up in Ohio and we got both: cold AND gray skies, so naturally I thought if it was sunny out it should not be THAT cold. I was also thinking about what to write about today and BOOM, problem solved. Apparently, my blood was a bit thicker back then because it never got above zero the whole time we were there, and I was running back inside today after only being out for a few minutes in 30-degree weather.

Some friends from church that I traveled with approached me and asked if I wanted to join them on another business as mission trip halfway around the world. I asked, “what exotic destination are we headed to this time?” They said “Mongolia.” I thought for a tick and asked, “isn’t it cold there this time of year?”. “Yes, VERY” was the reply. So, let me see if I understand this: we go to India in the height of summer and now we are headed to Mongolia in the dead of winter, is that about, right? “Yep”, was the answer. My next point was something on the topic of we must be getting a huge discount from a travel agent for “off-season” trips. We had spent the previous few years helping our brothers and sisters in India getting started and now we were starting another ministry in Mongolia. What the heck, let’s go to Mongolia!

Our 16-hour flight from Atlanta to Seoul was pretty cool too. I had never flown on a 747 until this trip. The flight attendants looked like they were stamped out of a mold. They all looked like sisters and were dressed impeccably. The service was top shelf (even for us in coach). I watched about four movies since it is hard for me to sleep on a plane. I think they fed us about every three hours and I’m not sure what some of it was but that didn’t stop me from eating it. Pretty good seaweed, I guess.

The Incheon International airport in Seoul was amazing for this tire builder’s kid from Akron. I was expecting some outdated facility, but this place was great! Very modern. It looked like the biggest shopping mall you have ever seen with gates big enough for the 747’s we were flying. We had a layover of about 10 hours so we rented this room you could stay at within the airport for blocks of time to shower and rest. You could get any type of food at any time of the day or night. So, it was sushi, Dunkin’ Donuts and a few Cokes for your truly.

The next leg was from Korea to Mongolia on Mongolian Air. Let’s just say that the two experiences were vastly different, and I may have kissed the ground when we landed in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. The total trip lasted 22 hours and went over 8,000 miles. Our team of five crossed 14 time zones and the International Date Line before finally landing in a very cold Mongolia. 

Mongolia is about the size of Alaska and is located in Northern Asia between China and Russia.  Ulaanbaatar is the capital city with approximately 1.2 million people (total population of Mongolia was about 2.7 million in 2006).  The Great Wall of China was built to keep the Mongolians out of China. We were about a three-hour car drive from Siberia, (Yes, THAT Siberia).     

We stayed in a small apartment that had 24-hour security including guard dogs at night (a huge mutant St. Bernard that I named Satan and a German Sheppard that loved the smell of fear).  The apartment building was also home to two missionary families that went out of their way to serve us.  They invited us into their homes for dinner and allowed us to be a part of their families while we were away from ours.  The entire city is highly influenced by Russian design and culture.  The apartment was heated with hot water through a radiator that was impossible to monitor. It usually was very hot inside and we had to open the windows to let the sub-zero weather cool it back down. You could see these two humongous smokestacks billowing dark smoke into the air from the power plant down the street. Across the street was a small market and a bar that apparently the entire community hung out at. I made friends with the ladies at the market when I asked for Diet Coke. My Mongolian was much worse than their English so we were grunting and pointing which wasn’t helping either. They had never heard of Diet Coke but then they said “Coke Light?” I said “YES!” So, they started stocking Coke Light just for me and I bought all that they had. More on the bar later.

Our mission was to work with Jholdas (an international business as missions organization) and serve as coaches, by teaching a three-day seminar on basic business methodology, to Mongolian Christians who hoped to start micro-businesses in the first phase of a four-phase program scheduled in Ulaanbaatar for that year.   

These businesses enabled their owners to expand God’s kingdom through outreach and local church growth while supporting their families.  Potential businesses consisted of a wide variety of service and manufacturing ventures including web page design, sewing and fashion stores, window and door manufacturers, retail goods, industrial goods suppliers, and mobile caterers among others.  Thirteen local churches were represented in the 21 students that attended the seminar.  Students ranged in age from early 20s to mid 50s. 

The people we went to serve could not get over the fact that anyone would come all that way from the States, especially in that time of year, to help them and teach them. We were honored and blessed to do it and the week we spent there will never leave my memory.

Today’s blog will cover some of the unique experiences we had on a once in a lifetime trip.

But First…A Joke:

Although I was only a “few” pounds overweight, my wife was harping on me to diet. One evening we took a brisk walk downtown, and I surprised her by jumping over a parking meter, leapfrog style. Pleased with myself, I said, “How many fat guys do you know who can do that?” Without breaking pace, she looked at me and said “One.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

I am the good shepherd, and I know My own, and My own know Me - John 10:14 (NASB)

Have I Told You This One?

What would you call a trip that left on Friday the 13th to a city you could not pronounce or even knew existed, where the average daily temperature is negative 25, and whose government was overthrown by Communists while you were on the way?  In a word, Awesome! 

As we were going through customs, we noticed people were looking at us very oddly (I get that a lot). When we got through, we all talked about that. We found out later that the government officials that run the country decided to walk out. Apparently, it was a mix of a democracy and communism (what could go wrong with that?!). Our people in the U.S. were trying to track us down and were wondering if we were okay. We were okay but started to have major concerns if we would be able to get out (Spoiler Alert: we made it out).

During our first day in Mongolia, we met with the in-country directors, missionaries, and translators.  We were briefed on local customs and traditions so that we would not do anything that might disrespect our Mongolian hosts.  We were informed about the corrupt culture our students must battle in starting a business, including bribes and payoffs.  It is clearly a culture of “every man for himself.”  We then went into the city and toured the marketplace to gain an idea of the type of businesses currently in place, pricing, competition, hours of operation, etc.  It was amazing to see people standing outside all day in the subzero temperatures selling their wares.  We saw an interesting difference between the young and old.  The older folks were very traditional in dress and behavior while the younger ones seemed highly “Westernized”.   We enjoyed a typical Mongolian lunch, which was very good.  We paid $10 for 6 guys and waddled out of the place stuffed!  A typical monthly wage for a Mongolian is about $70 U.S.

The traffic was an absolute nightmare (on ICE!).  I never thought I would be grateful for Atlanta traffic, but WHOA!  Imagine the worst traffic you have ever been in then add to that the fact that it is completely covered in ice, there are no signs; no cops, no rules and people will just walk right in front of the car.  On top of that, a car is within a foot of you on each side.  I thought I had seen everything, but I was wrong!

Since our body clocks never did fully get accustomed to Mongolian time (13 hours ahead of Eastern time) we would awake at about 3:30 am and head into our small kitchen where we would prepare our lessons, eat breakfast and have our private devotion time (mixed in with a lot of joking and goofing around).  We would have a team prayer at about 8:00 am and then walk three blocks to the community center to teach.  The walk over was usually the coldest part of the day and you had to pay attention because the manhole covers and drain covers were all missing and you could end up armpits deep in the sewer (they were stolen and recycled for the metal).  The streets and sidewalks were covered in thick ice, which added some excitement.  Our leader Tom was given the name Frazier (as in “Down Goes Frazier!” since he left his feet quite frequently).

Over the next three days we taught the seminar from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm with a break for lunch at 1:00 to 2:00.  Each day started with a time of devotion and prayer with the director, translators, and our team.  We then had a time of fellowship and prayer with the students before hitting the lessons.  We split the students into two groups of 10 or 11 and taught in a small group setting.  This allowed us to get to know them on a more personal level and develop some community in the group.  We had an excellent translator, which allowed things to progress smoothly.

We shared fundamental business principles that focused on the importance of developing a marketing plan and a kingdom impact statement.  A kingdom impact statement is like a mission statement that indicates how the proposed business will further God’s kingdom.  Students with the best marketing plans were invited back for Phase II to be held in later in the year and if their plans were doable, we would finance their new businesses.

We even tried to learn some words in the local language and use them in our classes. Apparently, what we were saying and what we thought we were saying left them in stitches! They were thankful we tried but we relied mostly on the translators.

We may have taught some business fundamentals, but they impressed each of us with their hearts for service, worship, and love for Jesus in a country where Christians make up about 3% of the population.  The country is about 50% Buddhist, 40% atheist, 5% Muslim and the remaining 5% is a combination of several religions including Christianity.  It was humbling and motivating to observe the sincere worship of Christians who live in an environment that is much different than mine.  To hear others worship and pray to God in their language was a special experience.  It certainly made me realize that He is multi-lingual! 

On Friday, we experienced something quite special.  We were invited for lunch at the home of Tegeshea, our in-country director.  He and family of 5 live in a Yurt or Ger, which is a cross between a tepee and igloo made primarily of felt.  The Mongolian people are nomadic, and these homes are portable.   We felt very honored to be invited and enjoyed the experience.  We gave his sons baseball caps and laughed as his oldest immediately turned it around like so many kids here in the States.  God Bless America, our impact is everywhere.

On our last day, we left our neighbors with something to remember us by.  We had a team picture taken outside in Hawaiian shirts, shorts and some real cool hats.  It was about –15 and people were laughing their heads off over the “Crazy Americans.” 

We also had an opportunity to meet a local artist. He brought his entire inventory over to the apartment and the fellas and I bought him out. He couldn’t believe it. I have two of his original paintings in my office and they are some of my most prized possessions.

We also got to go on a tour of the city which was very interesting. First, we went up to a shrine built up on a small hill. Back then we were still taking pictures with film cameras. The tour guide told us the cameras may not work since it was so cold. How’s that Machine? I’ll tell ya. It was so cold that the mechanisms in the camera may freeze instantly when you push the button to advance the film. We hiked up and were able to take some shots. One of which is my infamous picture of me putting my tongue on a post. Believe me, I might be dumb, but not THAT dumb. It was a staged photo but came out pretty good. I use it on my Facebook page every winter.

Secondly, we went into downtown to a “Zucher” to shop. It is essentially an outdoor flea market in subzero weather. We definitely looked like we were not from there, so all the hustlers were chasing us around the whole day. Frazier took a few more spills and we tried not to laugh (right!). We bought all of this knock off stuff that was brought in from China. For example, I bought a “North Face” coat for each of the girls. On Christmas, they got all excited in getting such a cool gift but asked “why does it say “Face North”?

On a somber note, if you remember that I noted we lived across from a bar. One night we heard this horrible scream from a lady about 2:00 am. We looked out the windows and noticed that a woman apparently had found her spouse dead and frozen on the sidewalk outside of the bar. This is an unfortunate reality in a city where 80% of the men are thought to be alcoholics. They stumble and pass out on the sidewalk and never wake up.

It was hard to believe how fast the week went.  Before we knew it, we were back on a Korean Air 747 headed back to Seoul and then on to Atlanta.  I was ready to go but I had a serious tug at my heart for the people I met and served with.  I may never get back there again but I leave with wonderful memories.  I know I left with more than I gave.  How humbling and comforting to allow Him to direct my path.  If He can use me, He can use anybody!

The trip provided opportunities for me to share my faith with family, friends and co-workers who are interested in hearing about a trip to such an exotic destination in the dead of winter (i.e., Why in the world are you going to Mongolia in Winter? Have you been placed in the witness relocation program?).  I would always get asked, was it Fahrenheit or Celsius? I’d would look at them and say “Dude, it’s below zero, what does it matter?” IT WAS COLD!!

Through international missions travel, God allowed me to see different perspectives in His work and in leadership and service. I do not regret anything about the trip except that I did not do it earlier in my life.  I have never felt so humble and successful at the same time. 

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I bow down to You in my weakness and ask You to life me up in Your strength. Enable me to persevere in Your power and give You all the glory.

Book Recommendation:

Leading With A Limp - Take Full Advantage of Your Most Powerful Weakness by Dan B. Allender, PhD (2006)

Music Recommendation:

Car Wheels On A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams (1998)

A Christmas Story

Typically, during Christmas, I sit and watch the A Christmas Story movie a number of times. That movie is very relatable to me. It was actually filmed in Cleveland, Ohio about 40 minutes from where I grew up. It was written by Jean Shepherd who is from Gary, Indiana. I bet I have watched it over 100 times. My grandson Preston is even a carbon copy of Ralphie, the star of the movie. The dad reminds me a LOT of my dad from cussing the furnace, expertly replacing the blown fuses, yelling at the neighbor’s dogs and getting car wax as a gift and pretending to like it. It always makes me laugh and takes me back to a more innocent and carefree time (for me anyway). Some people do not care for it but others, like me, can watch it over and over. I know many who do something similar for The Grinch or National Lampoon’s A Christmas Vacation. Everyone has their favorites that put them in the “Christmas Spirit.” When I was quite young, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, A Charlie Brown Christmas and some others would get it done.

If memory serves, the J.C. Penney catalog would hit our doorstep right around Thanksgiving and mom would gather my brother and me into the living room and give us a few ink pens and then have us circle the gifts we wanted for Christmas (Santa apparently needed help narrowing down the list to something more manageable). We would circle about two hundred things each and none of them were socks and underwear. My brother and I were sure to not overlap so mom and the big fella would not get confused and get us two of the same gifts (the horror!).

As the calendar flipped into December, the countdown was on. The decorations started going up in our palatial estate on Stevenson Avenue. It looked like Christmas threw up in our house! Mom had several trees throughout the house, and she always tried some funky avant-garde decorations that people still talk about (Exhibit A: the year she put up a tree of just branches with lights. If you know, you know!).

Mom loved to shop so she took great delight in hitting up every store you could imagine, and we always had a LOT of packages to open. She was also a hall-of-fame wrapper, and everything always looked like something out of a magazine. Dad, on the other hand, was famous for getting pissed about the lights not working and the inability to get the way too big tree to be centered. You NEVER asked him to put anything together! If it came with “some assembly required,” the Rutledge boys weren’t getting it.

Both of my parents did not have similar experiences growing up. They had very humble stories about their family Christmas times. Both had alcoholic fathers and as I got older, I realized that they wanted to give us more than they had. They did.

I never knew I was a member of any social class (low, middle, upper) because most of the people I knew were the same as me. All the “rich” people lived on the other side of town. I knew that my parents loved me and my siblings as well as my cousins. Christmas time was a very magical time as well as a spiritual time. We would go to church, caroling, parties, window shopping, hayrides, etc. It seemed (to me) that December 25th would never get here.

Dad loved to put the lights on the house and make it look sharp. I wish I could have charged people to watch him put everything up. It was a show for sure. I could have paid for my college. Perhaps that is where I learned the words that people on the naughty list used.

He loved music too. He had a selection of records he would play that ranged from Elvis, Johnny Mathis, Burl Ives, Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams, Bing Crosby, and others. I have all of those records in my collection, and I love that he gave me a love of music, especially since he would always sing the wrong words in the wrong verse and act like he meant to do that.

We were an “open on Christmas Eve” family. My parents had a standing open house invitation for our family and friends. People would start coming over around 5:00 or so and usually stay until around 10:00 or 11:00. Mom made a TON of food and we literally would run out of room in the smallish kitchen to put it all out. So, there was stuff everywhere. The back porch was used as an additional refrigerator and beer cooler. Dad always had his goofy Santa hat on and always sat at the same end of the couch and would hold court with his jokes and stories. Man, it was really fun back then.

As everyone started to leave my brother and I would encourage them to go so we could get to the main event, opening presents. Strangely, the presents were never under the tree. Dad would get the high sign from mom, and he would take us out to look at the Christmas lights in the neighborhood while keeping an eye out for the big fella and his sleigh. Amazingly, every time we returned the presents were all under the tree. IT WAS TIME!!

Dad would get another ”coffee” and take his position on the end of the couch and be the Grand Marshall of Christmas. Mom would see her months of work destroyed in about 60 minutes. My brother and eventually my sister and I would tear it up. I never did get a Red Rider BB gun, but I made out like a bandit. We all did. It wasn’t until many years later that I learned that mom was still paying it off until summertime. I did my part and got mom some silly figurine and dad some more Hai Karate, so we were even, right?

Well, another Christmas has come and gone in 2023 and this one was much different which is what my story will be about today.

But First…A Joke:

A coach walks into the locker room before a game, looks over at his star plater, and says, “I’m not supposed to let you play since you failed math, but we need you in there. So, what I have to do is ask you a math question, and if you get it right, you can play.” The player agrees, and the coach looks into his eyes intently and asks, “Okay, now concentrate: What is two plus two?” The player thinks for a moment and then answers, Four?” “Did you say four?!” the coach exclaims. At that, all the other players on the team start yelling, “Come on, Coach, give him another chance!”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Psalm 51:10

Have I Told You This One?

My brother is having some major health issues and I decided to spend time with him in Ohio this Christmas. I also got to spend Christmas with my sis and her wonderful family as well as my niece and nephew and their little families (Time flies!). It was the first Christmas I did not spend with my kids and their families. To be honest, I never got the “spirit” this year. I was blessed to be back in Akron with my original family and with those that all of these memories were experienced back in a different time, but I felt like I was mostly marking time. It was hard to be festive with a heavy heart. I will be really happy when 2023 is in the rear view. I hate to say that but unfortunately it is true.

As an old dude now at Christmas things are a little, no, a LOT different. I could not be more blessed than I am with my family and I wouldn't trade it for anything. We have great traditions, and we have a ball on Christmas Eve and Christmas.......but..........Christmas is getting "different" as a old geezer. I have graduated up to being the dad/uncle with the goofy Santa hat sitting in my place on the couch being the Grand Marshall of Christmas for my family.

How's that Rutmachine? Well, let me tell ya.

My dad, mom and wife are gone now, and I miss them a lot around this time of year. In fact, most of the people I made my memories with are gone now so all I have is memories of those days gone by. Thankfully, they are good ones, and I am happy about that. I have many friends that are battling cancer or some other health issue and weren't sure they would even make it to Christmas this year. Thankfully, most did. I now share my adult children with others, and I do not have the access I used to enjoy. The upside is I have grandkids now which brings Christmas back to a magical level and the excitement they enjoy is good for the soul.

I went to visit my brother at the hospital where he is in hospice care. I’m sorry but that place is so depressing. My brother is heavily sedated and mostly out of it. I just sat there and prayed for him and the others sharing Christmas with him. On Christmas my sis and I went to visit him and honestly, we had a hard cry and left there feeling like we just went 10 rounds with Tyson. On the way home I went by my childhood home. It had new owners and there were no lights up. No cars parked in the driveway and no kids trying out their new toys in the yard with their cousins. I continued to drive around and ran across a homeless gentleman who had layers of blankets and all that he owned in a sack walking alone on the main street. I felt sad for him and wondered what his story was. I got back to my sister’s house and decided to just call it a day. Hardest Christmas ever in the same city I had my best Christmases as a kid. It was easy to feel like I was having a Blue Blue Christmas as Elvis sang, but the truth is that I was missing the entire point of Christmas.

I know of many my age that this time of year is a difficult struggle and some even just wish it was over. I really feel bad for them when I see that, but I sure understand. Grieving and Christmas is really a bad combination. I don’t want it to be that way, but this year especially felt devoid of the Christmas Spirit. My kids tease me sometimes for being a Grinch because I hate the secularizing and commercializing of Christmas. I suspect that the events in the world over the past few years has dampened many people’s spirits but I’m sure Walmart still did okay.

But you know what changed the most for this old geezer at Christmas? My perspective. I like getting presents but I really don't care if I get any. The stuff money can buy doesn't fill the place in my heart that the people I love did. I wish I could put my arm around my wife and thank her for doing such a good job, smell my mom's cooking again, see my dad in his Santa hat sitting on the couch, laugh with my brother and sister, kiss my grandmothers and listen to them tell stories.

However, the biggest change for me is understanding how much God loved me/us through the greatest gift the world has ever known, the advent of Jesus Christ into the world.

God's love is a sacrificial love. His motivation was His love for all people. It is not a sentimental love but much more. It is a solution driven love and it cost Him. It is also a defiant love, and it is not predicated on reciprocity. He doesn't love us because we are lovely but because He IS love. It is also a merciful love with an objective of transforming His people and that those people are a trophy of the depth and breadth of His love for us.

That is what has changed for Christmas in this Old Dude. The greatest gift I could ever receive is the unconditional love of my Savior and His unmerited favor in my life. Believe me, you will never find that in a store.

Friends, "Fear not; for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For onto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord."

Merry Christmas (from the Old Dude) and don’t shoot your eye out.

Love others as God has loved you, Peace to all of You!

A Prayer:

Spirit of God, keep me in perfect peace when my emotions get out of control. Remind me that my Father knows every detail of my life and is in complete control.

Book Recommendation:

Three Weeks with My Brother by Nicholas Sparks and Micah Sparks (2004)

Music Recommendation:

Live at Mad Life 1.18.2023 by The Steven Brooks Band (2023)

Kathy From Hubbard

Hello again! I want to ask you to do something. Take a minute from what you are doing and just sit quietly for 30 seconds (it’s harder than you think). Now, what was the first three things that came to your mind? Did you think about work, kids, grandkids, God, wife or husband, bills, your future, your past, current problems, health issues, future dreams, why does the neighbor’s never cut their grass, if you left the water running in the tub; what was it? We all have a lot of stuff racing through our heads nonstop all day long (for me, all night long sometimes). Can I get an AMEN?!

Okay, as you are still sitting quietly, I would like you to now close your eyes and think back (it is going to be a LONG time for some of us) to your first kiss. Not the kind your grandmother gave you on the cheek at Christmas time, but the first REAL kiss. That time when you didn’t know what the heck you were doing but you were going to do this. The time you looked that other person square in the eyes and then closed yours and went for it. All those new feelings, tingles, elevated heart rate, mental fireworks in your head and maybe some odd reactions in places you had never had odd reactions before!

I have a lot more time to sit and think than I did when I was working and married. That is a good thing as well as a bad thing sometimes. It is nice that the super busy part of life has slowed way down and the things that occupied my mind constantly now rarely show up. I don’t worry about getting anywhere on time like before, I’m not living my life a week or a month in advance to make sure I don’t mess anything up for someone else. I am pretty much at a point that I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. It lacks “suckiness” for sure. There is always a downside to everything, right? It also makes me think a lot about stuff I never thought much about or small things that now seem to have more value and priority than they probably should. It also is a much lonelier time in my life with a lot less interaction with people than before. God wired me up as an extravert and living more like an introvert is tough for me. I am constantly looking for things to do and places to go. I am used to going into the city daily or travelling all over the country for work. Sitting by myself in a big house alone is akin to a colonoscopy at times. I now know when the mail lady drops off the mail, I know what time the trash guys show up, I know when the family of deer start showing up in the woods in my back yard, etc. GOOD TIMES! I am definitely not complaining about having less stress, its more about having TOO much time to think and a lot fewer things to do.

On top of it all, I have a tendency to overthink things. I’m really not a spontaneous person. I spent my career doing research and building a case to place a valuation on businesses and assets that did not have a primary market. I had to give testimony in court to people who wanted to make me look like I had no idea what I was talking about. The need to be prepared and think things through was a big part of what I did and who I am.

Hey Mark, where are you going with all of this? I’m glad you asked.

So, to “land the plane” I was thinking about things to do when I got back to Ohio this past summer. I was headed back for a few events with family and friends, and I was determined to keep myself occupied even if it seemed a little odd or maybe things others wouldn’t find all that exciting. I also started thinking about people to see that I had not seen for a while and then that got me thinking about some of the fun times when I was a kid. We used to go camping a lot as a family. We went with a number of other families and relatives. We really were not a jump on a plane and go somewhere family but more of a stuff yourself in the car and drive somewhere family. As I was thinking back on those trips, I remembered something that I had not thought about in probably fifty years. From way back in the grey matter I remembered a family camping trip to Sharon, Pennsylvania when I was 14 which is also where I met Kathy from Hubbard, Ohio and experienced my first smooch. That’s what my goofy story will be today.

But First…A Joke:

At a recent family gathering, we decided to open up our wedding album with the kids and the grands. After studying the wedding pictures my six-year-old grandson looked up at Grammy and asked, “Did you marry Grampy because he was good looking?” “Not really,” she replied softly. “Did you marry Grampy for his money?” “Definitely not,” she laughed, “He didn’t have any.” “So,” he said, “you just felt sorry for him?”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for you for building others up according to their needs, that you may benefit those who listen. - Ephesians 4:29.

Have I Told You This One?

Back to the trip. We loaded up the family truckster, hooked up the pullout camper and loaded up the Akron Rut’s and headed for Sharon, Pennsylvania which is right across the border in western Pennsylvania about an hour from the royal palace on Stevenson Avenue. Going to a different state was a big deal to me back then because we didn’t do it that much. I think I even asked Dad if we had to clear customs at the border. As a seasoned teenage camping machine, the first things we would do once we rolled up into a new place was to check out if they had a pool, ball fields, woods and other kids our age. This place checked all the boxes, and I was about to find out it had one other thing that was going to move to the top of the list from now on: GIRLS!

On this particular weekend, the campsite even had a bandstand, and a local rock band was going to play on Saturday night. Cool!

Well, Friday after the site got set up my brother and I went to check out the pool. This place was really nice. The pool had a high diving board in the deep end, and it also had a teen center that had pinball machines and a ton of things to do. So we were set. As I was heading up the high dive to impress the masses with my latest preacher seat “dive,” my eyes caught the view of this VERY pretty blonde just entering the pool with her family. Don’t ask me what they looked like because there is no way I could tell you because my eyes were locked into a blonde goddess in a blue bikini (yes, I did remember the color of the bikini). My dive changed from a splash dive to a regular dive so I could get out near where they were gathering their chairs.

Over the next few hours, we flirted, and I finally got up enough courage to go speak to her. We hit it off great and I asked her if she would like to go the dance the next night. She said she would have to ask her dad but would let me know tomorrow at the pool. Alright, Alright, Alright! The next day at the pool, I ditched my brother and spent all day wooing Kathy with my 14-year-old ladies’ man moves. Surprisingly, she still wanted to go out with me! We were back at the campsite and my dad asks, “Hey Mark you want to go night fishing with us tonight at the lake?” “That’s a HARD NEGATIVE Pops, I’ve got plans buddy.” So, I put on my best shirt and slapped on some of Dad’s Hai Karate! (If you know, you know!) and headed for the dance. If this were a movie it would have been put out by Hallmark but hey, it was my first big “date.”

I found her (without her dad), and we sat down and started to enjoy the band and get to know one another better. After about an hour I got the courage to ask her if she wanted to take a walk. It was a clear night with a full moon, I had Hai Karate on, how could she say no?! So, we start walking away from the dance knowing that we were both told we had to back as soon as the dance was over. We find a nice spot and sit down in the grass, and she reaches down and holds my hand and tells me she thinks I am such as nice boy (I KNOW!). As mentioned previously, I had never REALLY kissed anyone before, but apparently, SHE HAD! We start to smooching and I can remember thinking I had just found my newest best thing to do in life! WOW she was a good kisser, even from someone that didn’t know anything I could tell what REAL good was! We commence to lip locking for what seemed like two seconds and then all of the sudden I stopped and said to her “Oh no, do you hear that?” “No",” she said, “I don’t hear anything.” “Exactly, the band isn’t playing!” We ended our night under the moon at the submarine races and I walked her back to her family’s campsite. Her dad was waiting, not very happy and had two questions, “Who the h+@# are you?” and “Where have you been?” I never had a door slammed in my face before so that was also another first for me!

The next day, I strolled over to her campsite to see if she wanted to go swimming or whatever. Her Dad meets me at the front door of their camper and let me know in no uncertain terms that she was grounded and would not be available for any further socialization (being grounded in a camper must be really awful). My summer romance had come to an end before it had barely started. I failed to realize that kissing apparently impacts your ability to hear music playing. I was smart enough to get her address the day before, so I followed up via letter a few days later and we started my first long distance romance. You know how those turn out, right? I got back home and met other girls and went steady and fell in love with a few of them and eventually I met Michelle when I was starting high school and that ended my dating other girls. We were together from 1975 until 2021. I have a special place in my heart for all these beautiful ladies and feel very honored that they would want to hang out with me.

Jump forward to 2023. I am back in Akron and bored so I’m out driving around and I see a road sign that says that Youngstown, Ohio is 40 miles away. Through all my traveling I had never been there and thought what the heck, let’s go to Youngstown and get some lunch and have a look around. Off I go. As I’m getting close there is an exit sign for Hubbard, Ohio. I’m thinking to myself “Why does that seem familiar?” I have never been here but for some reason it triggers my memory banks. Oh crud, I know why…Kathy From Hubbard! I take the exit and pull into a town that could have been anywhere Ohio. A small community with one high school and everyone is fired up for the local football team’s game on Friday. I drive around and sightsee a little bit and start to wonder if I could find the house she lived in. I try and remember that address she gave me fifty years ago and “Elizabeth Street” comes to the frontal lobes. I’m sure that can’t be right, but I go ahead and stick it into my phone GPS and sure enough there is an Elizabeth Street in Hubbard. Then I think the street number was 300 something, maybe 323? I plug that in and sure enough there is a 323 Elizabeth Street. I can’t remember what I had for lunch, but I can remember THAT?! So, just for grins and giggles I head to the address and check out the house. We could have been neighbors. If that was where she grew up it looked a whole lot like the house I grew up in my community. I’m certainly not going to knock on the door and I’m not sure either of us would remember the other so off to Youngstown for lunch I go and then back to Akron.

The next day my sister and I went to Detroit, Michigan to catch a Braves and Tigers game. We had a fun time on a great day and as we are heading back on the three-hour drive home, I told her about my trip to Hubbard and the other story of my brief summer fling back in 1974. She was intrigued and started asking me questions about her. I said, “All I remember is that she was a very cute blonde who was a great kisser and seemed like a really nice person and that she was from Hubbard, Ohio and was my age or maybe a little older.” My sister went to work on the Internet and Facebook and about halfway back she has a LOT of information about Kathy and her family. I was pretty amazed and a little concerned that maybe we were going down a road we should not be going down. But we kept digging. I found out she was married with a couple of girls and grandchildren. Her husband had suddenly died in 2019 which in a weird way was another thing we had in common, losing a spouse. Even though I had not seen her in fifty years and wouldn’t know her if she walked right by me, I still felt sorry for her and her family. As we drove on, my sis kept digging and she says, “Oh no!” I had heard that before and knew it wasn’t good. She had been scanning some obituaries and sure enough she had passed in 2020. What a letdown and what a tough thing for her family.

Once we made it back to Akron, we both were a lot quieter and talked about how odd and awkward that was. It left me wanting to know more about her but there’s no way to follow up with people that don’t know me from Adam to ask about her. It was also weird how within the span of a few hours there was this excitement and happiness about solving this mystery and then it ends only to add on to the sadness I have been wrestling with for a few years now. However, it was a nice respite, and it appears that she had a very nice family, and she was loved by many. She even had started her own business, a coffee place on Main Street. Good for her! Kathy From Hubbard, I am glad to have known you for a few days and you will always have a special place in my heart.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, remind me that You are bigger than any of my weaknesses. Thank You for Your presence, power, and fellowship. You are my safe haven.

Book recommendation:

Finding Meaning - The Sixth Stage of Grief by David Kessler (2019).

Music Recommendation:

Feats Don’t Fail Me Now by Little Feat (1974)

Don’t Say a Word Rutledge!!

Do you remember the 1960s? I was fortunate enough to grow up in one of the most interesting decades in the history of the United States (in my opinion, anyway), right after the boom of the 1950s and in a city (Akron, Ohio) that was in its prime and was hustling and bustling. My earliest memories seem to be in black and white, maybe because the color television was still making its way into every house, but overall, I remember being content and that Akron was in the center of everything. I had not been anywhere else to speak of so what did I know? There are always ups and downs when you live in a “Rust Belt” industrial town, especially when you are tied primarily to one industry. Back then it was the automobile industry, specifically the tire industry. It was rare to run across someone that was not tied one way or another to the rubber companies for their livelihood. The technology age was in its infancy and good ole midwestern values were still being taught and deemed important. Your work ethic had a lot to do with how you were viewed in the community.

When I was a young lad growing up, I attended a grade school named Ritzman which was a few blocks from my childhood home. Back then, it was a kindergarten through sixth grade school. The original Ritzman school building was constructed in 1891 as the original Springfield High School and then Ellet High School took it over once Springfield built their own facility. The school was named in honor of John Curtis Ritzman (1875-1963), who served as a custodian when it was Ellet High School up until 1950. The Ellet community decided to show their admiration for the many years of loyal service which Ritzman had provided by renaming the building in his honor. I attended Ritzman Elementary from 1965 to 1972.

During that period of time shopping malls were just starting to come on the scene, but large downtown department stores were still the kings of retail. In Akron, the first two malls were Chapel Hill Mall on the east side and Summit Mall on the west side. Both of them opened in 1967 or 1968. If you have ever watched The Christmas Story movie, the way the department stores were shown was spot on. In Akron, I remember the two large department stores as O’Neil’s and Polsky’s.

These stores were very ornate and had multiple floors that had anything that you would ever need to buy. The escalator was made of wood as were the large number of display cases. They had lunch counters, restaurants, hair salons and a ton of other things to see and do. They would have International Week, Salutes to Education, the Military, etc. As you can imagine (or recall), Christmas time was rocking back in those days. One of the attractions to get people to come downtown was the decorated windows on the first floor at street level. You could come down and just “window shop” for hours. They had elaborate set ups and people would wiggle up to the windows to get a better look. Inside was hard to grasp for a little guy like me. People were everywhere it seemed, and kids were lined up to see Santa and his elves to be sure the big guy got the list in person. Downtown was the place to be. The malls had not taken over yet.

When I was in school, I typically brought home good grades and didn’t seem to have any problems on that level. However, when parent-teacher conferences would come around, the teachers would always want to speak with my parents. Those discussions and the notes on my report cards usually went something like this: “Mark is an excellent student, but he has some “difficulties” paying attention, being quiet and keeping his hands to himself. I would look at my shoes and swear to do better but that never really changed. I was Mr. Social Butterfly and they tried their best to change me but it never really worked until Mrs. Wood, my third-grade teacher got her hands on me (literally!).

Today’s blog will focus on her approach to handle my perceived “difficulties” of being an 8-year-old third grader and going to school in the windows at O’Neil’s one Christmas in 1968.

But First…A Joke:

A Scottish mother visits her son in his downtown Atlanta apartment and asks, “How do you like the Americans, Markus?”. “Mother,” says Markus, “they’re such noisy people. Our neighbor won’t stop banging his head against the wall, while the other screams and screams all night long.”

“Oh Markus! How do you manage to put up with them?”

“What can I do? I just lie in bed quietly, playing my bagpipes.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord - Romans 12:11

Have I Told You This One?

As you know, when Christmas time rolls around every year, there are a ton of things to do. Every activity seems to have a party, gift exchange, etc. There are seasonal events to do, light displays, plays, presentations, church programs, etc.

My school was not different. One day I was asked to come into the principal’s office. Now, this was not something new for me but for the life of me I had no idea what I could have done wrong (this time). Mrs. Wood walked me over to his office (at least I got out of class for a tick!) and they sat me down in the leather chair in between them at his conference table. I gulped.

The principal seemed really happy to give me this news but Mrs. Wood was NOT. A little bit about Mrs. Wood. If you looked up third grade woman teacher in 1968 in a dictionary, her picture would be there! Her dress seemed like something out of the 1940’s with these grandma shoes on and hose that came up to her calves. She looked like someone just hit her car with eggs and had the sense of humor of a stop sign (for the record, I appreciate all she taught me. I can’t remember exactly what that was, but since I didn’t have to go through twice, I must have learned some good things! Thanks Ms. Wood).

The principal asks me how I’m doing and comes behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. Thinking this is a setup, I say “everything is going great, sir and Mrs. Wood is the best teacher ever.” He smiles and says, “I’m sure she is,” but Mrs. Wood didn’t find it too funny. He continues on with “How Would you like to represent our school next week downtown in one of the O’Neils windows?” Okay, now I’m really confused. “I would love to, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” “Mrs. Wood is going to lead a small class of six people in one of the windows downtown and you have been picked to be one of the students.” I looked at him to be sure he wasn’t yanking me (he wasn’t) and then looked at Mrs. Wood (her expression was priceless). I’m guessing she didn’t get to pick all the students!

So, I head home after school and at dinner I spring it on my parents that their little bundle of joy is going to represent the school as a scholar in a department store window. After Mom gave Dad the Heimlich maneuver to stop his choking, I filled them in with the details of the big event. Not bad for a tire builder’s kid, eh?

The big day rolls around and off to downtown I go with my chauffeurs. We get there in plenty of time as requested and they take me and the others in the store and show us how to get into the windows and which chair to sit in. When the clock strikes 7:00, we start to head into the window where there are six desks set up. I am the last one and as I get ready to enter Mrs. Wood grabs me by the collar and turns me around and gets right in my face and says…..”Don’t say a word, Rutledge!!” She seemed to really mean it so I wander in and take my place. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself. I look ever so briefly at the window and my family is right there. Dad has his super 8 camera going and Mom is weaping and my brother is making faces at me. I turn around quickly and Mrs. Wood is eyeballing me so I obey and do not utter one word, raise my hand, pick up a pencil….NOTHING!

The time goes by and we exit the window and I rejoin my family. My Dad has a curious look on his face and asks me, “Why didn’t you participate during the session?” I informed him of the not so subtle request from Mrs. Wood and he just smiled and shook his head (One of many that was to come in our relationship). We left and headed back home and my days as a window mannequin came to an end.

Now THAT’s a story you don’t hear these days!

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, help me to do my part in keeping the body healthy and whole. Prompt me to forgive others because You have been so faithful to forgive me.

Book Recommendation:

Love Does - Discover a Secretly Incredible Life in an Ordinary World by Bob Goff (2012)

Music Recommendation:

Live! At Carnegie Hall by Phil Keaggy & Glass Harp (1971)

Thankful in the Storm

As a kid growing up in Ohio, I really loved the summer and fall seasons of the year. Once summer shifted into fall, there was this mental countdown that started in my head about how much longer did we have until fall changed to winter. I wanted that day to be put off as far as possible because that meant winter would not be as long. I have talked with others about this, and they agree with me and go through a similar mental routine. When I thought about moving, I initially was thinking about moving to Florida, but I thought I would miss the change of seasons. With that thought in mind, I moved to Georgia about 40 years ago now. We do get to experience all four seasons every year and winter is not as long or as cold and definitely not snowy. We pay for it in the summer months, but I guess I would rather be hot than cold.

Hey Mark, what’s with the weather report? Glad you asked…

I am no meteorologist, but every year there seems to be a day that occurs that brings fall to an unofficial end and “welcomes” winter in. The day is usually rainy and gray, overcast, windy and a good day to eat chili and watch football all day. This year that day for me was yesterday. I mentally groaned because I knew what it was and I’m not thrilled about it being dark at 4:30 and cold (by the way, cold now means anything below 45 degrees). This stormy day typically is the one that blows all the beautiful colors off of the trees and leaves us nothing but branches and a few leaves that have decided to not give up and fight to the end (I love those guys!). This tipping point day usually is right around the start of the Thanksgiving holiday as well. The holiday season can be tricky for me in a good year and the weather change to “mostly crappy for four months” doesn’t help my disposition for sure. I remember as a kid watching THE GAME (Ohio State vs. that team up north) and it was seldom a good weather day. I remember thinking that it had just been great a few weeks ago.

One time a handful of years ago I was back in Akron to visit family for Thanksgiving, and I actually saw this storm happen right in front of my eyes in the old neighborhood in Ellet. There is a street called High Grove Avenue near my parent’s home that has blocks and blocks of red maple trees lining the street on both sides of the two-lane road. For the first few days I purposely drove down the street when I was out just to see how great it looked. On the third day, I was driving by, and this storm kicked up and within in an hour or so, the leaves were history. Just like that. I remember mumbling to myself that winter had arrived and started thinking about heading back south. The “Gray Funk” was here to stay.

This will be the third holiday season for me since Michelle passed and to be honest I can already feel like it is going to be a struggle. It does seem to be less of a struggle that the previous two years but nonetheless, my personal gray funk has hit as well. I’ve had a minute or a thousand to think about things lately and one of the things I am proud of is that I am still able to be Thankful in the Storm and I want to share a little bit of that with you today.

But First…A Joke!

A father and son are playing golf together. The young man hits his tee shot, and it lands about 20 yards in front of a large pine tree blocking the green. He asks for advice on how to play the shot.

“You know, son,” says his dad, “When I was your age, I’d hit that ball right over that tree.”

So the young man grits his teeth and digs in, swings as hard as he can, and smacks the ball right into the tree. It ricochets back and lands right in front of the two golfers. He quickly turns and looks at his dad.

Dad looks him straight in the eye, “Of course, when I was your age, that tree was only about ten feet tall.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

“So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness” (Colossians 2:6-7).

Have I Told You This One?

What is it about Thanksgiving that makes me think of home? For me it is the best "family" holiday of the year. As a kid, I remember waking up in our small house on Stevenson Avenue in Akron and as the morning mist cleared and I realized what day it was and smelling all of Mom's delicious food being prepared was just the best! I can remember that the house was always warm because the stove and all the burners were being used. The doors were open to cool it down some leaving the screen doors with a foggy condensation which allowed me to draw turkeys and footballs and other extremely tasteful renderings. As the guests started to show up the noise level went way up. We had a ton of family stuffed in our little house talking, laughing, singing and having a great time. We would rotate between our house and my uncle’s houses, and it just felt REALLY good to see everyone.

When I hit my mid-teen years, we started having our own dinner with just the family and maybe a grandmother. The Thanksgiving newspaper used to be a real thick one and Mom and Dad would be reading it and discussing the different events going on. The Beacon Journal used to list all the All-City teams and would have the pictures of all the players which I loved. The City Series Championship used to be played on Thanksgiving and we would go to the Rubber Bowl and watch before coming back to eat.

When I moved away to Georgia, I really missed the holidays back home in Ohio, especially Thanksgiving. I was very blessed that Michelle always put together a great Thanksgiving for us and then for our family as it grew over the years. It really was something amazing. She was a GREAT cook and she put together a feast. She made sure to have all of my favorites: cherry pie, oyster dressing, turkey AND ham, a thousand sides and a ton of people. When we first moved to Atlanta we didn’t know as many people. We would invite others that were in Atlanta alone like us. I really liked those days. After we started our family and the family grew to include sons-in-law and friends, the amount of work it took to put things together was massive. It felt to me like we had successfully duplicated our holiday from the “old days.” I knew then it was a ton of work and effort but since she has been gone, I truly understand how great she was at putting everything together. I REALLY miss that and her.

Over the past two years plus I have thought a lot about what I'm missing but I'm trying to focus on all the blessings I have and the tremendous number of things I have to be thankful for. I catch myself from time to time feeling sorry for myself and wondering why certain things have or have not happened the way I would have preferred them to or why life took some turns that make no sense to me. Typically, when I start to feel that way, I come across someone who has it much worse than me or is battling something that I have been so fortunate to never have had to go through. I don’t have any idea what others are going through, good or otherwise. I can’t see from beginning to end like God does. I only see the brief time in front of me that he has blessed me with. I try to understand His plan, but I typically have no clue to what He is up to and frankly, He hasn’t asked my opinion. Life just “IS”. My goal is to be thankful and find joy in everything as Scripture says. Man, I really stink at that but I’m trying very hard to glorify Him in all that I do. He is amazingly loving and caring toward me. I do not ever deserve what he blesses me with and should be very thankful. This world can be and is a cold tough place. I can’t imagine doing it on my own. I’m thankful I do not have to.

I think the correct response to waking up each day is not to wonder why things didn’t go this way or that way but, "Why did you give me all that you have given me in the first place?” To have had 45 years with my gift is far beyond my deserving. Michelle told me and many others, our family, our children, our lives are not our possessions but are gifts from the Almighty and are to be held with open hands. Only He knows how it will all turn out. For a control freak like me, that is not a great thought but doesn’t make it any less true.

It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O Most High; to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night. Psalm 92:1-2

Today, I invite you to give thanks to the Lord for his steadfast love in your life. First, take time to give thanks for the people God has placed in your life that have been for you constant sources of grace, love, hope and joy: family, friends, mentors, coaches. The list could go on and on. You are who you are today because other people selflessly invested in you and prayed for you, celebrated life’s joys and wept with you in life’s great sorrows.

Secondly, let this heart of gratitude for others serve as an invitation for you to go and do the same. Having received from others, how can you now become a source of life and hope for someone else? Who has God placed in your life that is in need of the same self-giving love that you have received? We overflow with love and thanksgiving toward God when we love others just as we have been loved, may it be true of us today and every day! Thank you to all of my family and friends who have walked with us. Know that it means a great deal and that I'm very thankful. Tell your people you love ‘em and give an extra-long hug. You never know what lies ahead in this random world we live in

Happy Thanksgiving! Take time to reflect on the mountain of things we have to be thankful for, except for that school up north......GO BUCKS!

Prayer: Father, we give thanks for your goodness and faithfulness to us, asking that we would freely love others just as you have loved us. Amen.

Book Recommendation:

Out of the Pocket (Football, Fatherhood, and College Game Day Saturdays) by Kirk Herbstreit with Gene Wojciechowski (2021)

Music Recommendation:

Awake by Dream Theater (1994)

Off to Myanmar with Count de Money

In a previous entry to this blog, I mentioned that I had the opportunity to serve in a ministry called Business As Mission (“BAM”). Back in 2014, the guys from church reached out to me to see if I would be interested in going on another trip. I had previously been to Mongolia and to India a few times, which were great experiences, so I was more than interested to go on another international adventure. Where are we going this time? How does Myanmar sound to you? I said “sounds great” but where the heck is that? Maybe you’ve heard of it as Burma, in Southeast Asia. Yatzee! That I had heard of! I didn’t realize the name of the country had been changed in 1989. My experience prior to this was that I remember it mentioned during the Vietnam War back in the 70’s. Through a little research I found out that it was a country of about 50 million at that time situated between India, China, Laos and Thailand.

We were to team up with a group of guys from a church in Iowa that was developing a group like ours and wanted to join us. The missionaries in country had set up almost twenty prospects for us to work with so the added help was greatly needed and appreciated. On this trip my responsibility was going to be the treasurer for the Georgia team in addition to consulting and evaluating five Myanmar brothers and sisters’ ideas for businesses in their respective cities. If the business plans were doable, we would arrange for funding for these micro businesses and then follow up with them as they started on their way to being entrepreneurs for the Kingdom. It was no small task since the country was about 90% Buddhist and Christians were under persecution for being a threat. We trained for several months before going over to make sure we had plans in place to get assistance in case we were to come under a challenge. In this part of the world (and many others) you can be put in prison for evangelizing the citizens to a Christian faith. So, we had to be careful but still felt led to do this and help out our new friends a half a world away.

As we started out training my natural curiosity led me to ask, “Hey, what do I actually have to do as the keeper of the finances?” Fair question I thought. They all kind of looked at their feet and smiled and said that with my professional background I just needed to be sure I kept track of all the expenses and make sure we had money for food, supplies, etc. There were only five of us so I didn’t think that was hard at all. I just couldn’t get why they kept smiling. I was about to find out……

But First, A Joke!!

Dad Joke time!!!!!

I dreamed about mufflers all last night - I was exhausted!!

I just bought some shoes from a drug dealer…I don’t know what he laced them with, but I’ve been tripping all day!!

I have some jokes about unemployed people, but I can’t tell them to you.
Why?

Because none of them work!!

I finally watched the documentary on clocks - It was about time!!

I’m going to start doing lunges to stay in shape - That would be a big step forward for me!!

A man lost his fingers in a freak accident and asked the doctor, “Will I still be able to write with it?” - Doc said, “Probably but don’t count on it.”

(I’ll show myself out)

A Verse to Contemplate:

If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature, old things have passed away, behold, all things have become new - 2 Corinthians 5:17

Have I Told You This One?

Have you ever seen the Mel Brooks movie History of the World, Part 1? I know it is an odd question, but it makes this a little more funny if you have. Harvey Korman’s character in the movie is known as Count de Monet. He comes off as an untrustworthy keeper of the funds in the movie and Mel Brooks character of the king keeps calling him Count de Money. The count quickly corrects him by saying “It’s de Monet, de Monet!” So, on the trip I was affectionately referred to as Count de Money.

My main job was to keep a record of all the money that was spent on the trip and to give an accounting to the church when we got back. Piece of cake, sorta. There were some quirky things that needed to be done to get in and to leave the country, The first was that to get into the country each person had to present a brand-new crisp $100 bill to customs as a tax. When they told me that I thought they were yanking ole Count de Money. I went to my local bank and told the teller about my need for five crispy $100 bills. She thought she was getting yanked too. I pleaded with her to believe me and thankfully she went along. I also had to have some money changed from $USD to Myanmar Kyats (K) when we arrived. No biggie, I’ve done this before on my business trips with local currencies. The guys just smiled at my confidence. Now, I’m starting to get very suspicious.

The trip to Myanmar started at Atlanta Hartsfield Jackson airport and first went to Seoul, South Korea, 16-hour non-stop flight, for a 45-minute plane change and then on to Yangon, Myanmar which was an additional six-hour leg. Twenty-three straight hours in coach to get started. Then three days in country and then repeat in reverse.

We arrived in the middle of the night and headed for customs. I finally thought I would find out that my “friends” were pulling my leg about the crisp $100 bills. We were behind another group from the states, and I’ll be dipped, they were not allowed in because their bills were not “new enough” I stepped up and presented the bills I have been protecting for a few days and they looked them over and let us in! I looked at my buddies and said, “I stand corrected!, thanks for the heads up".”

Yangon is a city of around 5 million people. It felt like 20 million. It was also amazingly hot. If you ever watched Good Morning Vietnam when Robin Williams said it was “Africa Hot”, I know where he got it from! I just sweat through my clothes standing still. It had the feel of those cities you see in the movies where there are people everywhere, kinetic energy, loud noises, horns blowing, etc. you get the idea. We all piled into a tiny car, and we looked like the clown car at the circus when we got out. But, halleluiah, we made it.

I took $400 out of our budget and had it converted to local currency. I knew the exchange rate was favorable to the dollar, but they literally handed me a garbage bag full of money. I had not been paying close attention and when they handed the “bag-o-money” to me I was shocked! I said, “I’m sorry, I only wanted to exchange $400. They looked at me and said, “that’s what you have!” I don’t think I can explain this to you appropriately. It looked like they had raided 25 to 30 Monopoly games and given me the money. There were red ones, blue ones, green ones, yellow ones all in big stacks. I swear it looked like I knocked off a bank. Now, I knew why they were smiling. Count de Money had to drag this around for the week. They might as well have drawn a target on me.

Our driver was a wonderful guy from the states that had been a missionary there for a few years and was building a great ministry. I think he must have grown up in New York because he drove like a cabbie. However, I was glad it was him and not me. Lordy, what a site. We got stuck in the middle of a traffic grid lock on the way in and then all of the sudden he asks, “You guys hungry?” “Absolutely”, we said. So, he stops the car right in the middle of the road. This would be akin to just stopping in the middle of Peachtree Street with cars behind you everywhere you looked. He had just located a street vendor that looked like he was selling hot dogs from a cart. We said, “That’s okay, we can wait.” He said, “no way, you’ve got to try this!” So out of the car we go and to my delight it wasn’t hot dogs but dove eggs cooked on a griddle. We just stood there gulping down fried dove eggs on the side of the road while passersbys gave us the one-finger salute. So much for keeping a low profile. I highly recommend fried dove eggs though!

Our hotel was this cool old oriental designed place that was built for guys about half my size. The guys kept quoting the Tommy Boy movie “Big guy in a little coat”, “Big guy in a little bed”, etc. I had that going for me! We had to pay (I mean, I had to pay) by a certain time each day, in cash, or they would kick us out. Apparently, they had not heard of American Express. So, every day when we came back from teaching, I would have to drag out the “bag-o-money” and settle up with the desk clerk that knew zero English. Good times! The coup de grace was the hooker who hit us up each night when we came back to our rooms along with her “business manager.” They were persistent, I’ll give them that.

One of the amazing things we got to do was go out and visit some of the businesses in the city and meet the families and folks that were putting in the hard work. It makes me look at side of the road businesses a lot differently than I had before. While we were out, we were asked to visit an orphanage that one of the businesspeople also ran. She was hoping to get funding for her business so she and her husband could expand the orphanage and help more kids. It took longer than we thought to get there and we ended up being two hours late. When we arrived around thirty kids were seated on blankets on the floor and greeted us like we were royalty. It was so humbling. They sang us several songs and introduced themselves to each of us and even gave us some gifts. I’ll never forget that night.

After a successful week of developing business plans and being able to fund almost all of the micro businesses we decided to take out the team, the translators, the local folks that kept us out of trouble and a few others to dinner. We got a great recommendation for an open-air cafe right on the main drag. We walk in there with about 20 or so people and the place lit up. We clearly didn’t look like we were from the area and here comes Count de Money with his big bag-o-money. This bag was still so big I almost had to carry it like Santa carries his sack! I’m looking around and thinking “I’m never going to make it out of here alive!” We had a great meal and time of celebration and then the bill came. My buddies were now really smiling! I went over to pay, and I felt like Oprah. “You get some money! You get some money! and you get some money. I should have run for office.

When we got back to the airport, I traded the still big bag-o-money to the exchange person and got $12.89 back. I was still alive and the guys had set me up but it turned out fine. Another adventure in the books.

A Prayer:

Father, I desire to live a life built on the foundation of Your word. Teach me Your ways and empower me to live fully surrendered to You.

Book Recommendation:

Unshaken by Dr. Crawford W. Loritts Jr. (2015)

Music Recommendation:

Made Up Mind - Tedeschi Trucks Band (2013)

A Return To Briar Hill

Back when I was a young(er) lad, I made several trips from my home in Akron, Ohio to a hunting and fishing club called Briar Hill Hunting & Fishing Club. The club was a two-story house on Piedmont Lake about 90 miles down I-77 South in Piedmont, Ohio. I remember going there with my family, with my little league team and on a “men’s weekend” with my dad and brother in the early and mid 1970s. In my memories, it seemed like we drove for days to get there, and the lake was as big as an ocean. We wove through the “mountains” of Ohio, through all the curvy roads and small towns, and through the heavily wooded area on gravel roads. I would bet a large amount that I wore dad out with the “are we there yet?” questions. His usual response was “almost there” or “15 minutes”. Apparently, 15 minutes used to be longer back then.

I have fond memories of this modest house in the hills. Honestly, in my mind’s eye it was my Camelot as a kid. It was a big adventure for a little guy since we didn’t typically travel too far from the Stevenson Avenue castle because there never seemed to be a point to do so. Everything in the world rotated around our little community in Akron and we had everything that we would ever need (or at least that’s what I thought!).

The house had an older gentleman who lived on site who was the caretaker. I had no idea what that was but he seemed like a cool old fella, but he made sure all of us teen spastics obeyed the rules. The house had four bunk house rooms on the second floor. Getting a top bunk was a major priority for me back then (eh, not so much now…). It had a fireplace on the first floor in the gathering room and a small kitchen with appliances that seemed past their prime to me but the bacon sure smelled good in the morning. The coup de grace was the outhouse in the side yard. We “city boys” had never had that experience before! That’s when the words “hold it” first came into my daily vocabulary.

We took this serpentine “road” down to the lake. Oh man, it was majestic. This massive lake and it was all ours! We had a dock and access to row boats and the green light to use them. One of the cooler things of being a child of the 60s and 70s is the freedom and autonomy to go and play and to explore and get into trouble. I’m not sure if it was lazy parenting or trust but either way it was a ton of fun.

The club had a garage and storage building that the owners had retrofitted with some bunks in the attic. I stayed there on a few trips when I had graduated up to being one the “older” kids. I’m sure I didn’t hold it over my brother’s head for a single second! One other cool thing was an abandoned hay barn that we could hike to and explore. Disney had nothing on us my friends. That was flat out awesome.

We would fish on the dock and if they weren’t biting, we would just jump in the lake and start swimming. We rode bikes, played hide-and-seek, had campfires and smores, cleaned fish, learned to shoot guns, ate like kings, hung out, stayed up late, night fished, sat on the porch and watched it rain, pooped in an outhouse, drove the parents crazy, and a boat load of other things. The days seemed to last forever. I remember being so sad when we had to head back to “civilization”.

My story today will focus on a return trip I made to Briar Hill in 2023.

But First…A Joke

An elderly gentleman went in for his annual physical exam. “You’re in incredible shape,” the doctor said. “How old are you again” “I’m 78,” the man replied. “How do you stay so healthy? You look like a 60-year old.”

“Well, my wife and I made a pact when we got married that whenever she got mad, she would go into the kitchen and cool off, and I would go outside to settle down.” “What does that have to do with it?” asked the doctor. The main sighed. “I’ve pretty much lived an outdoor life.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds - Psalm 147:3

Have I Told You This One?

This past summer I made several trips back to the homeland from my current home in the suburbs of Atlanta. I moved away almost 40 years ago now when I was 24 years old to find fame and fortune with my recently earned business and computer degrees. One of the trips was for my 45th high school reunion and the others were to visit my brother who is having some major health issues. I am fortunate to have recently retired so I could spend more time than usual on these visits. The trips back start a flood of memories and this time I planned on doing some exploring around my hometown and catch up with some old friends and family I had not seen for a while.

During one of my visits with my brother the conversation focused on the vacations we went on as a family back in the day. We tried and tried to remember the name of the hunting and fishing club we went to in the summer of the 70s. Neither one of us could remember the name of the lake or the club. Fifty years has a way of pushing those details farther back in the grey matter. That night, I couldn’t let it go and I researched and also tracked down some old family members that used to go there with us and I figured out that it was Briar Hill Hunting and Fishing Club (or so I thought/hoped). That seemed right but I was not 100% sure. I decided I was going to punch it into the phone GPS and take a shot the next day. What’s the worst that could happen?

So, down I-77 I go. I hoped to find it but thought the odds of doing so were less than 50% but who knows. An hour or so later I made a left turn on this old gravel road in a highly wooded area. This seemed promising. I started to get concerned that maybe it wasn’t there anymore or that it had changed so much that I would not recognize it. I struggled as I thought “Has it really been 50 years? 50?”, Is that possible? Where did THAT time go?

As I made my way down the country road the GPS started getting down to less than a mile. I had not seen anything for quite some time and was beginning to give up hope but as I made the final turn, there it was! I recognized it immediately. Time had somehow stopped, and I was 14 again! As I pulled into the parking lot I was ambushed by a tsunami of warm memories. Many of the people I was here with 50 years ago are gone and I fought back the lump in my throat that was choking me out. There was a family of deer checking me out and the grass needed mowed but hot damn, it was still here.

I got out of the car and walked up to the house, and it was locked, I knocked anyway hoping the current caretaker might be there. No luck, but that was okay. I peeked into the doors and windows, and I swear to you, NOTHING had changed in 50 years, Not One Thing. How great is that!? I walked to the garage/attic bunk house and looked in the window. Perfect! Even the old sign in front was the same.

I walked down the now overgrown path to the lake and filmed the walk with my phone camera for my brother to see when I got back. It’s silly, but my eyes suddenly were filled with “dust” and were leaking pretty bad. When I came around the final turn, the lake jumped out at me! I’ve seen some things over the last 50 years since my last visit and it wasn’t as big as I remembered but still beautiful! The dock was half as wide and not quite as long but I swear I could hear the voices and laughter of a bunch of boys fishing and swimming. The channel I fished and caught the biggest catfish in the lake was still visible (that fish gets bigger every time I tell the story). I was alone, which was great because I’m sure no one knew who I was.

I walked back up to the house and sat on the front porch and remembered the weekend I spent with my brother and dad in the winter. Dad thought we needed some “guy” time, and we spent a cold weekend doing some bonding. Didn’t know it at the time but now that he is gone it was certainly a precious memory of the big guy.

As I walked around I did see a sign that said trespassers would be shot so I thought it was probably a good time to go. The trip was so worth it. Being a parent, sometimes we want to give our kids the biggest and best when the simple will do and is more impactful. Thanks dad and mom for helping me enjoy the simple things and the quiet things. Life sometimes gets complicated and loud after you “grow up”.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for speaking healing words over me. Use my words to bring healing and hope to hurting hearts.

Book Recommendation:

The Prodigal God - Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith by Timothy Keller (2008)

Music Recommendation:

Let It Bleed by The Rolling Stones (1969)

Grand Risings Mon!

Back in 2005 I went through a Tres Dias weekend in the North Georgia Tres Dias community near Dahlonega, Georgia. Tres Dias is a Christian movement that has been around since the 1940’s. It is a 3-day spiritual retreat that provides an opportunity to unplug from the “world” for a minute and spend total focus on the spiritual side of life uninterrupted for a few days. For me it was a life changing time when I went through on my weekend with about 40 other guys. Once the weekend is over, you can come back and serve on a team of about 85 guys that serves the next group of guys and “give back” by serving. There are a number of ways to serve on the weekend including preparing meals, setting up the chapel, cleaning the dorm rooms, praying for the guys and the speakers, and many more. In 2006 I was asked to help with starting a community in Jamaica by some buddies on the team that were from the island nation with a heart for the men and women of their homeland. Today’s story will be about a recent visit I took to this wonderful country with my buddies.

But first…A Joke:

Some handsome dude named Mark stood before the Pearly Gates, and St. Peter asked him, “Tell me sir, “Have you done anything in your life that would qualify you to enter heaven?”

“Well, there’s this one thing. On a trip to Atlanta, I came upon a gang of bikers who were threatening an old lady. I stormed over toward them and told them in no uncertain terms to leave her alone, but they just laughed and told me to kick rocks (well, it may have been rougher language than that). So, I rolled up my sleeves and I went right up to the biggest, most heavily tattooed biker and looked him straight in the eye then whacked him on the head, kicked his bike over and ripped out his nose ring, threw it on the ground, and told him “Leave her alone now, or you’ll answer to me dirtbag!”

St. Peter’s eyes were as big as saucers. He said, “I’m impressed sir, when did this happen?” I said, “About two minutes ago.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires, to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. Ephesians 4:22-24.

Have I Told You This One?

I met a few Jamerican brothers through serving with them on a Tres Dias weekend about twenty years ago now. Back then, I was still trying to take over the world as the new wonder boy of the business world. I was traveling a ton, had a lot of family responsibilities, was probably overactive in my church, and trying to develop friendships with people at work and in my neighborhood. I enjoy being busy and getting things done so when I was asked to consider going to Jamacia to serve on a Tres Dias weekend I initially thought that I didn’t have the time capacity to do it even though I thought the idea was intriguing and would be challenging. I told them I needed to think about it and check with Michelle to see if she would be okay for being alone with the girls for five or six days.

Interesting how God works sometimes (well, actually ALL the time). A day or so after I was asked to consider the trip one of my girls came to me and wanted my opinion on a problem she was having with some kids at school. We sat down to discuss the matter and I believe God gave me an answer for her AND me during our time together. She explained that she thought her friendships were always one-sided and that she felt she always had to be the one to organize things and make the first call, etc. A not untypical response I experienced from young ladies and their relationships. It was clear as a mountain stream what the “solution” was in my mind. I told her “Sweetie, when you start getting wrapped up in yourself and are fighting the blues and don’t think everyone is pulling their weight I know the exact thing you should always do.” She got a bit excited and said “What Dad?”. My answer was not what she wanted to hear but was nonetheless the right response. I told her “Serve them!” She got that look on her face like she gets when we are driving back home from Taco Bell and she’s not sure who to be mad at and said, “Thanks Dad, you’re a big help!”. I told her that I understand that it was not what she was hoping or expecting to hear but that using Jesus as an example, we are to be Prodigal with our love. The definition of prodigal is: spending money or resources freely and recklessly, wastefully extravagant. Most of us think negatively about that word but in the context of relationships it means to go way beyond what is expected and show your friends how much you really love them and care about them. Do it in a way that they look at you and go, WOW!

After she went off scratching her head and giving me the side eye, I listened to my own advice and decided that I needed to go to Jamacia and be a prodigal to those folks. Living on the north side of Atlanta and in the suburbs of Montego Bay are vastly different. It’s funny, when I tell people that I’m going to Jamaica they give me that Monty Python look and go “wink, wink, nudge, nudge, going to Jamaica”. I tell them I’m not going there for that but to serve some folks on a spiritual retreat. After they stop laughing, they go “wink, wink, nudge, nudge….spiritual retreat.” I just smile and go I’ll tell you all about when I get back. Interestingly, I have been there four times over the past fifteen years and I have yet to step foot into the ocean. In fact, we pay team fees and our own way there and back. We stay in non-air-conditioned rooms and facilities that are nowhere near American standard….and love every minute of it.

For the most recent trip I flew into “MoBay” and met up with our American based team and then we traveled about five hours in a bus to the camp. We set up the camp for the weekend and started on a Thursday evening after the twenty new brothers joined us and allowed us to serve them. It’s a bit awkward at first on most weekends since the new guys are trying to figure out what is going on and the cultural differences can be challenging. But once they see that we are truly there just to serve them and are trying to give them the same unique experience we all had on our weekends and that we are trying to help them be better leaders in their homes, churches and work places the awkwardness changes to a brotherhood that is typically not experienced in today’s world. Now as a man in my 60’s (ughh), It also has a feel that I am helping young men that could be my sons and sometimes grandsons. It is so satisfying to serve. When you say yes to Him and do what He is preparing you to do, you quit worrying about who didn’t return your calls, or who’s turn it is to pick up the bill. Another cool thing is how fast the racial barrier was broken. Being a white dude amongst mostly Jamaican brothers is difficult at first but once they see me/us as servants and not something else the walls drop. God Lord, I wish I could bring that back home with me. What a wonderful experience to have us just be friends and brothers in the Lord.

During the weekend, the Rector (main leader), a Jamerican friend, coined a phrase that was used throughout the time there. Grand Rising was our greeting to each other, and it was always followed by a smile. It’s way cooler than “Hey, How Ya Doing?”

The worship time was fabulous! There was some church going down with these guys. I got made fun of for my limited dancing skills, you know, the white guy shuffle where I stand in one place and drill a hole in the floor! It was okay though, I got to give a talk on leadership and how important it was to stand up and be the change agent in their families and communities. I got to share about leadership when things are hard and people don’t want to change and how expensive the cost of being a leader can be sometimes. I was one of fifteen speakers over the weekend and it felt like we made some positive impact on our new friends.

I was exhausted when I boarded the flight back home and was happy to land at the airport in Atlanta. On the way home, I got cut off several times, flipped off, brake checked, stuck in rush hour traffic, and realized I was no longer on the mountain top, and the fourth day had begun. I just sighed and thought back to my time on the rock, hit the radio for some Marley and turned up the volume. Grand Risings Mon, Every-ting Gonna Be Alright!

A Prayer:

Father, remind me when I am searching for answers that You are the answer. Thank You for guiding me through the storms of life. You are my shelter.

Book Recommendation:

The Boys In The Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics by Daniel James Brown (2014).

Music Recommendation:

Fragile by Yes (1972)

Want to Go to India?

Several years ago, I got asked this exact question by some good friends that I go to church with in suburban Atlanta, Georgia. The guys belonged to a group of businessmen that went to different parts of the world to assist others in developing and funding micro businesses. They wanted yours truly to become a part of the team and join them on this mission trip and adventure. I had never been to India and the guys were hard selling me and I couldn’t resist so I jumped on board.

The team’s mission during this trip was to work with Jholdas (an international business as missions organization) and serve as coaches, by developing comprehensive business plans, for Bhutanese brothers and sisters who hoped to start micro-businesses in their hometown villages.  The business plans were to be presented to a local funding agency and startup loans would be provided for the most qualified.  The loans are paid back to the local program which enabled them to become self-sufficient and fund future projects.  These potential businesses enabled their owners to expand through outreach and local church growth while supporting their families. 

Bhutan is located in southern Asia and borders China and India.  The country is about half the size of Indiana with a population of about 800,000.  Bhutan translates to “The Land of the Thunder Dragon” due to violent storms from the Himalaya Mountains. At the time, we could not get visas to meet the students there, so they met us on the border in a town called Jaigon in northeast India.

The poverty that I saw along the way and especially in Jaigon was very difficult to believe and describe. How can so many people be in this bad of shape? A typical monthly wage for a person in this part of the world is about $70 U.S.  Most of the people I saw were not making anywhere near that.  It is hard to grasp how hard it is to make a living which helped me respect what it was our students were trying to accomplish.  Most of the students were key members of their respective villages.  They led many home churches and were well respected in their communities.  Being able to help them was a privilege.

I had no idea what was in store for me, but I was excited about the opportunity. Buckle up! The story I am about to tell you is pretty amazing for a tire builders kid from Ohio.

But first…A joke to loosen things up a little:

A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question. The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, drove up on the sidewalk, and screeched to a halt just inches from a shop window. For a second everything went quiet in the cab. Then the driver said, “Look, don’t ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!”

The passenger apologized. “I didn’t realize that a little tap would scare you so much.”

“Sorry,” the driver replied. “It’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a taxi driver. I’ve been driving a hearse for the last 25 years.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

The prudent understand where they are going, but fools deceive themselves - Proverbs 14:8 (NLT).

Have I Told You This One?

Ever want to pack up your laptop and hop on a plane, fly halfway around the world (and back) and work for a week for free?  Me either, but that’s exactly what I did.  This was not a small undertaking but I thought it was amazing that I could jump on a plane in Atlanta and be pretty much anywhere in the world in 24 hours or less. I also like telling stories so I assumed I would have a few things to share on this one. Boy, did I underestimate that! The longest trip I had been on previous to this was a trip to Hawaii which took about 10 hours non-stop.

This trip took over 40 hours and covered nearly 8,000 miles (in coach) including stops in New York, Dehli, Guwahati, and finally Bagdogra, India.  The leg from New York to Dehli was about 16 hours. Two work days sitting on a plane just to get into country. I have a very difficult time sleeping on planes so I decided to take some Ambien to help me sleep at least 8 of those 16 hours. Well, it worked intially but when I woke up midflight I thought it would be about halfway and I discovered it had only been a few hours. I needed to use the facilities, so I got up and I swear I looked (and felt) like a bear that got drug darted. Remember Mutual Of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom? That was me! Only to top it off when I finally made it to the door, an older woman had failed to lock the door and I walked in on her in the midst of her doing her business. Now we both sounded like drugged bears! I saw the sun rise twice on the trip but only saw one “moon” (I’m sorry, I’ll show myself out).

As eventful as that trip was, the last leg of the journey, a four-hour drive to Jaigon, India, turned out to be the biggest adventure.  At the Bagdogra Airport, we met up with two missionaries from Nepal that came to assist our team.  We packed our gear in a hired car and headed out.  Our driver apparently had spent some time in NASCAR since he drove like a maniac. We told him we would pay more for him to slow down but he must have had dinner plans. Traffic was unbelievable and the people drive insane.  The road looked like the Indian Air Force used it to practice bombing runs. The rules of the road are simple…the biggest car wins. We were in a small Chevy SUV with about ten people stuffed inside and our gear was strapped to the top. We looked like we were on a safari. Horns are blowing nonstop and our driver would pull out into oncoming traffic on the two lane highway and dive back in at the last minute. At the beginning I was terrified but a few hours in I just sat back and accepted the fact that I was going to die or be horribly maimed. I could hardly keep my eyes open but the commute from hell kept me awake. I saw elephants being used to clear trees, straw huts, jungle and a whole bunch of other stuff I hadn’t seen before. Not many elephants in Atlanta.

After about three hours of the trip (death ride would be more accurate) we pulled up to a bridge and were told by armed military guards that one side was inoperable, and we had to wait our turn once the cars and trucks coming toward us had passed. That seemed simple enough but our driver (Dale Ernhardt’s cousin) decided to go just as an 18-wheeler was coming across the bridge at full speed. I’m assuming he thought he could make it before the truck got to us (He was VERY wrong!).

We were up against a fence that was there to keep cars from doing exactly what our driver was attempting to do when we got nailed by the truck which instantly blew out the back windows of the SUV as well as damaging the crud out of that side of the vehicle. To make it even more interesting, the truck decided NOT to stop and kept going after hitting us.  Unfortunately (for him) he did this in front of the soldiers who were carrying weapons which they drew and ordered the truck to stop.  He did not comply (BAD MOVE).  Our driver and the soldiers turned around and proceeded to take us on a high speed chase on the wrong side of the road! Our driver pulled in front of the truck to make it stop (Yes, the same truck that just ran over us). 

As we were checking various body parts to make sure we were still okay, the soldiers pull up and they are not happy with the truck driver and neither was Dale Ernhardt. The next thing we see is the truck driver heading for the jungle!  We are in West Bengal India (as in BENGAL tiger) at night and the guy runs! The soldiers then proceed to drag the man riding shotgun out of the truck and proceed to beat him with a huge stick in the back of the legs and knees.  We realized we were not in Kansas anymore Toto!!!  Yikes.

Everyone was fine and the car was drivable (although missing a back window now) so we headed on toward Jaigon once again after driving an hour back to the police station (hut) to file a accident report and then to negotiate with the driver who now wanted to charge us triple for the ride. Thank goodness for the missionaries who told him that he wasn’t getting a scheckle until he got us to our destination. We arrived at our “hotel” and were very happy to call it a day.  Believe me, it was not Club Med but it looked great to me.

In the morning, we were informed that one of our students (a young mother) had been struck and killed by a drunk motorcycle rider and had passed away.  We were deeply saddened by the news. It was sobering that forces may be at work to keep us from our mission and it was a reality check that things can get crazy in a hurry.

Over the next three days we developed five business plans along with sharing our faith and worshiping with our new Bhutanese friends.  Each day started with a time of devotion, testimonies and prayer.  A key part of the business plan was the importance of developing the kingdom impact statement.  A kingdom impact statement is like a mission statement that indicates how the proposed business will further God’s kingdom.  Recognizing that these business owners have a better chance of reaching their communities than we ever would, we provided our Bhutanese brothers and sisters with the tools to fish both physically and spiritually.   

We may have cranked out some business plans and helped them to formulate their ideas into a definitive plan, but they impressed each of us with their hearts for service, worship, and love for Jesus in a country where Christians make up about less than 1% of the population.  The country is about 75% Buddhist and 25% Hindu.  It was humbling and motivating to observe the sincere worship of Christians who live in an environment that is much different than mine.  To hear others worship and pray to God in their language was a special experience.  It certainly made me realize that He is multi-lingual!  Although I did not understand the language I did not need the services of the translator to know what was being said.

It was hard to believe how fast the week went.  Before we knew it was time to head back.  I struggled all week with negative feelings about the conditions, poverty, tough travel, lack of sleep, how this will make a difference, etc. I came to realize that it is not about me and my comfort but it is about sacrifice and faith and being awed that God would use someone like me to complete His work.

Before I left, my mom called me and was concerned about the trip (maybe she knew something!). I told her that I was going to be fine no matter what happens. If I was doing what God wanted me to do and if He decided to take me there, what better way to go out doing what He wanted me to do. Thankfully, we made it back home safely. First thing I did on the way home was to pull into Wendys for a double cheeseburger. Our Indian brothers and sisters aren’t big on hamburgers!

A Prayer:

Father, I desire to reap a harvest pleasing to you, but I admit that I can only do so through the power of Your Spirit. Give me the strength to sow eternal fruit.

Book Recommendation:

Through The Eyes of a Lion - Facing Impossible Pain Finding Incredible Power by Levi Lusko (2015)

Music Recommendation:

In Color by Cheap Trick (1977)

Shopping with a Major Leaguer

Hello again! Welcome to the fourth entry of the A Table For One blog. I am grateful that you are taking some of your time to check out my latest ramblings. I hope it makes your day at least a little better.

I did not know it, but I was born into royalty. I KNOW, I’m as surprised as you are! How does a young man go from tire builder kid to royalty you ask? Well, I’ll tell you, my mother was the Queen of Shopping and she was unparalleled in her expertise and dedication to her craft. You know the 10,000-hour rule in becoming an expert of something in Malcom Gladwell’s book Outliers; mere child’s play to the Queen of Shopping from Akron, Ohio.

I wrote some about my dad in my last entry so I thought I would give mom some equal time. I looked up to my mom in many ways and while I wanted to always be a tough guy like my dad, God wired me much more like Mom, which by the way, probably drove dad nuts.  Dad was the leader of our family but mom was the glue that held it all together. I admired mom’s work ethic and drive and I tried hard to emulate her in my personal life as well as my professional life. Through strikes, illness and other challenges in dad’s job, mom saved the day for our family and allowed us to move forward and keep going and I am forever grateful.

Mom started out as an X-ray technician at St. Thomas Hospital and over a 40+ year career moved up the ranks to where she was head of education in radiology when she retired.  There are scores of people over the years that were trained by her.  Mom was unique in the fact that she actually loved her work and the people she worked with and the people she provided care to. As we all know though, your job is not who you are, it is what you do.  Only talking about someone’s job to describe them to others is a disservice to them. 

My story today will focus on the wonderfully crazy lady she was and how impactful she was to me growing up through the eyes of a mere mortal (me) when it came to shopping and the countless times she took to just talk to me and help me see people in a much better way.

But first…A joke to loosen things up a little:

Two wrestlers are sitting on a park bench, and an old lady who’s ranting and raving comes by. “Hey!” she bellows in a hoarse voice. “I got a riddle for you guys”. What has two heads, four arms, four legs, and stinks something awful?”

The guys look at each other, and one of them shrugs. “I give up, what has two heads, four arms, four legs, and stinks something awful?”. “You and your friend!” The woman staggers away, chuckling. The guys look at each other and start laughing. “That was a funny riddle that lady told on us, “they say. “Let’s go try it on someone else.”

Laughing hysterically, they see two guys. They approach them and smile. “Hey! We got a riddle for you! What has two heads, four arms. four legs, and stinks something awful”. The guy shrugs waiting for an answer. The wrestlers chuckle again, and one of them says with a smirk, “Me and my friend!”

A Verse to Contemplate:

Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much - Luke 16:10.

Have I Told You This One?

Mom LOVED to talk, let’s just say that a pause in the conversation would not be tolerated and she was not a fan of short talks. Pick a topic, she had an opinion! If it lasted long enough, she might take both sides of the argument. Mom loved people and had a soft compassionate heart.  She was an excellent caregiver and took care of many people.  Stories of injustice around the world would break her heart and bring her to tears. She ran her department with excellence and even brought students to our home throughout the years to teach physics to them so they could pass their exams.

Mom was EASY to play jokes on.  Once, when she and dad came down to Georgia to visit me and my family, we took them to a Japanese steak house for dinner.  The restaurant made a big deal about birthdays and would put a big funny hat on the person, bang a drum and sing a loud happy birthday song. When we were going to sit own, I peeled back and told them that it was Mom’s birthday and to set up the surprise. (It was not her birthday).  I also told them that she is very vain and would deny that it was her birthday but to just keep going.  The plan went off as expected, Mom denied it and starting looking around until she got to me and saw the look on my face and then she knew she had been had. I loved making her laugh; especially when she laughed so hard that she would lose her breath and start snorting!

Mom LOVED to shop. Let’s just say that there are shoppers, avid shoppers, crazy shoppers, lunatic shoppers and then there is mom. The Queen of Shopping was in a special class all to herself. She had a special attraction to J.C. Penney and Pier 1 Imports. When mom shopped, she would not leave until she had touched every piece of whatever in the store. I swear if I said ANYTHING, she would take another lap around the store! My dad would beg off going by “voluntelling” me to take his place.

I “gladly” went with mom many times to shop at JCP (actually I was kidnapped and forced to go). My precious mother bought me every turtleneck they ever had in the catalog. She even bought me dickies (if you know you know). I begged her to stop but then she doubled down and bought me plaid cuffed dress slacks when everyone else were wearing Levi’s jeans. I had drawers packed with those clothes and every once in a while, she would ask me why I was not wearing those great clothes she got me, and I told her I think our house was broken into and someone my exact size must have grabbed those babies. I also suggested that it was healthier for me to not wear those clothes since the beatings would end at school. I don’t think she bought it.

I swear when mom entered the local JCP people would stop what they were doing and take a knee. I overheard them whispering to one another “There she is, the Queen”, “I thought it was just a rumor but there she is in the flesh!” Mom would pass the minions with grace and class and give the queen wave as she honored the store with her presence. It was of like Norm walking into Cheers! Actually, it was quite impressive.

Mom was also just as famous at Pier 1 Imports. Over the years she invested a fortune in wicker baskets, urns, flowerpots, statues, etc., etc., etc. She LOVED that place. I spent many hours sitting in the car in shopping center parking lots that had a Pier 1. I would complain to dad, but I was what was keeping him from doing it so guess who wasn’t get out of it?!

After I moved away after college, I called mom once a week. She loved to talk and dad didn’t so I would check in on her and we would do some talking! One of the greatest things I got from mom was to think about how the decisions being made would affect others. To look at it from a different point of view. This isn’t always easy in the business world but it served me well over the years. She cared about people (probably to a fault). If that is the worst thing anyone can say about you…you are a pretty good person in my view. Thanks mom!

I came up to visit Mom in the hospital back in 2015 when things started looking very serious with her failing health.  We had a great visit and as I was leaving, I bent down to her in her bed and put both my hands on her face and looked deep into her eyes and our eyes locked in a special way.  I told her I loved her and left. I thought that was probably going to be the last time I would see her on this side of life. I was right. This was the same hospital I was born in 55 years earlier. A place where my mom worked, a place were most of the family was born and died over the years.

As I was thinking about how special that moment was I believe God gave me a mental vision of what it was like the day I was born and she put both of her hands on my little face and locked eyes with me and how she probably told me she loved me. How the contrast of the two events matter all these years later.

She passed on the next Friday and once she left this earth her spirit was instantly in the presence of God. I believe that she was greeted by Jesus who put his hands on her face and locked eyes with her and said “I Love you and Well Done Good and Faithful Servant.”

She is actually interned in her favorite urn from Pier 1. She is interned next to my dad in a national cemetery in Ohio and I can only imagine dad’s reaction when mom and her urn showed up three years after he passed and realized that he would be next to that for eternity!

Who says you can’t take it with ya?

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I am overwhelmed by Your loving forgiveness. Empower me with your Spirit to wipe the slate clean and keep no record of others’ wrongs.

Book Recommendation:

Unbroken: An Olympian’s Journey from Airman To Castaway to Captive by Lauren Hillenbrand (2014)

Music Recommendation:

An Ecstasy of Fumbling by Budgie (1988)

Bring Your Kid To Work Day - Akron Style

Hello again! Welcome to the third installment of the A Table For One blog. I appreciate you taking the time to give this a look.

I am the first generation in my family to not follow their father into the tire factory which dates back to my father’s roots in West Virginia. I actually worked in the computer department at General Tire while in college for a year or so but I’m not sure that “counts”. My grandfather left the coal mines in West Virginia in the 1930’s to get a piece of the good life in Akron, Ohio by taking a job at General Tire making automobile tires to support his family. Many of you know, that this was not a unique idea at that time. You may have heard of the three “R’s”; reading writing and Route 21 (the road used to get from West Virginia and Kentucky to Ohio). The industrial revolution was booming, and Akron was a destination for many in Appalachia to improve their lot in life. Sometimes referred to as “hillbillies”, this was a tough group of hard-working people. Let’s face it, if a tire factory is a step up, you are a tough son-of-a-gun! By the way, hillbillies are allowed to use that word, others are not. I got grandfathered (and fathered) in.

My story today will focus on the time my dad took me to work when I was fifteen to give me a piece of reality that served me well. It’s been almost fifty years from that iconic day in my life, but it still is very impactful to me.

But first…A joke to loosen things up a little:

Me (as a kid): I’m really worried. My dad works 12 hours a day to give me a nice home and food on the table. My mom spends the whole day working, cleaning and cooking for me. I’m worried SICK!

Friend: What have you got to worry about? Sounds like to me like you’ve got it made!

Me (as a kid): What if they try to escape?!

A Verse to Contemplate:

“My people have done two evils: They have turned away from me, the spring of living water. And they have dug their own wells, which are broken wells that cannot hold water.” Jeremiah 2:13

Have I told You This One?:

My grandfather was from the Charleston, West Virginia area and my grandmother was from Steubenville, Ohio. If you don’t know, these are not on the top of the list of vacation destinations for tourists. These are tough, hard-working industrial towns that make you get up and get after it everyday.

My Pop was the first born in his family and was born in 1938. He had two brothers and a sister by the time he graduated from high-school at 17. He went into the Army and served in Korea and Japan. Prior to the service, he had not been anywhere to speak of and the ship ride to Korea was a first big step into the “real world”. He met my mom right before he left and they eventually married in 1959 and had me in 1960, my brother in 1962 and my sister in 1972.

When he came home from the service, he was looking for a job to support the new generation of “Rut’s” and he followed his dad into the General Tire and Rubber Company as a laborer making parts and pieces that ultimately went into the production of bias ply tires for cars and trucks. We were like many families at the time that had family that worked in the tire industry in some fashion either at Goodyear, Firestone, Goodrich, General or Seiberling. We were the definition of middle class and I loved it. I knew nothing different and most of my friends were living the same life.

The 60’s and 70’s were a terrific time to grow up in northeast Ohio (in my opinion, anyway). We would get on our bikes in the morning and the only restriction was that we had to be back for supper, which we always ate together. Mom and dad would retire to the living room and read the newspaper and dad would throw me the sports section so I could see the baseball standings and the statistics of my favorite team, the Cleveland Indians (not the “G” word). Like most kids that live in a smaller town, we were always looking for stuff to do and trouble to get in. I seemed to be very good at that for some reason. So, as I entered my teen years, I started to make my dad mumble to himself a lot more and my mom to say “wait till your dad gets home mister” a bunch! You might say I was 15 going on 15.

My dad worked the 6:00 am to 2:00 pm shift at this time. We lived in a 1,000 square foot midwestern home that was hard not to hear anyone when they got up and moved around. My room was right across from mom and dad’s. When mom woke me up, she would step lightly and in an angel’s voice would whisper that it was time to wake up. Dad had a strikingly different approach…You could hear him coming and by the time he banged through my door I better be up and at attention. Let’s just agree that dad was not a gentle soul, and he didn’t particularly care about my opinions on how the day should start!

This one particular summer Saturday morning at 5:30 am, dad came banging into my room and said “Get up boy, you’re going to work with me today”. I assumed it wasn’t a request but more of an order so I ran my head under the tub faucet, brushed my teeth, and threw my clothes on and headed for the car. It was still dark out. I had no idea what he was up to but one thing for sure, I was going on my first bring you kid to work day, Akron style!!

I don’t know if you have ever had the pleasure of being inside of a 100-year-old tire factory in the middle of summer, but it leaves an impression. My eyes must have looked like I had just seen Satan, Good Lord, is this where Dad went EVERY day to work? It was well over 100 degrees, and everyone was dressed in rags. There was 100 years of lamp black ground into the floor and walls, and I could not hear a thing over the clanging of the machines, forklifts, shouts, horns, bells and sometimes a little laughter. I always thought my dad was a tough old boy but DAMN, this place is unbelievable.

So, he takes me to where his work place was located and he sat me down near the vending machines which are protected by guardrails on both sides. He introduced me to the guys that were there waiting for the shift to start, smoking a cigarette, drinking coffee and playing games on one another. What a crew. White, black, hillbilly, all in one place. This did not look like my school where everyone looked the same.

They had fifteen-minute breaks every hour during the shift. Dad would take me around to meet his co-workers and each of the them shook my hand like a man shakes hands and looked me directly in the eyes and to a man, they told me this….”Don’t follow us in here, go to school buddy and do what you want to do.” Those hillbillies knew what they were talking about and I was listening. Their hands were all bent up from working those machines and you could tell the place was taking a toll on them. Great guys but you could see that they were earning their money for sure.

After the shift, dad and I went to a restaurant/bar across from the factory called The Cork and Bottle on East Market Street. When I went in there I couldn’t tell if it was day or night, the smoke was thick enough to cut it with a cleaver and it was LOUD LOUD. My Dad asked me, “What do you notice son?”. I said, “a lot of guys drinking and smoking and talking loud.” I asked, “are these guys running those machines after drinking?” “What do you think?”, he answered. I said, “oh.”

When we got back home, my mom met us at the back door and asked, “What did you think, Mark?”. I said that I was going to give a lot of thought to this college gig and that I had gained a deep understanding of what going to work really means. Jump ahead about ten years, I was the first person to graduate college in my family with degrees in Industrial Management and Computer Science. Thanks Pop.

Monday was the 11th anniversary of dad being called home to eternity. “Wayne P” was one helluva man and I love him and miss him.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, help me to trust You even when I don’t understand. Give me ears to hear You and courage to follow wherever You lead.

Book Recommendation:

Hillbilly Elegy - J.D. Vance (2016)

Music Recommendation:

Elegant Gypsy - Al DiMeola (1977)