Music to Soothe a Savage Beast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

Bonus Dad Joke:

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Souvenirs by Dan Fogelberg (1974)

In The Ocean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

“I’m sorry, no,” comes the reply.

“Do you have any newspaper?”

“Sorry, buddy, I do not.”

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

Bonus Dad Joke:

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

A: “It’s still your turn.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you going to do?”

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw (1998)

Music Recommendation:

Superunknown by Soundgarden (1994)

A Purple Nutty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

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

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

He woke up three days later in the hospital.

Bonus Dad Joke:

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

Phillippe Phillope.

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moral of the story?

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

My Favorite Headache by Geddy Lee (2000)

Time Out! I Gotta Pee!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

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

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

Bonus Dad Joke:

What’s the best way to kill a circus?

Go for the juggler.

You are WELCOME!

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, here’s where it goes sideways!

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

Searching For God Knows What by Donald Miller (2004)

Music Recommendation:

Arc by Jimmy Haslip (1993)

My Escape from the Tyranny of the Urgent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

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

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

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

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

Bonus Dad Joke:

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

A: Because they are very good at it.

I’ll show myself out….

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God Bless!

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Texas Sugar by Chris Duarte (1994)

♪♪♪ When I’m 64 ♪♪♪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoo!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (2016)

Music Recommendation:

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

The Silence Is Deafening

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Bridge Across Forever by Transatlantic (2001)

Just One More…Please!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got it buddy, you got it.

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Rites of Summer by Spyro Gyra (1988)

Naked at the Mall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke (or three):

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

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

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

I’ll show myself out…..

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Wes Bound by Lee Ritenour (1993)

Who Inspires You?

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

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

Thanks, and welcome back!

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

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

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

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Moving Pictures by Rush (1981)

I’ll Be Coming Down the Mountain ♪♪♪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

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

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

A Baker’s Dozen of Great Live Albums:

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

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

3. At Budokan - Cheap Trick (1979)

4. Made In Japan - Deep Purple (1973)

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

6. Live - Foghat (1977)

7. Frampton Comes Alive - Peter Frampton (1976)

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

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

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

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

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

13. Strangers in the Night - UFO (1979)

Tijuana Taxi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Black and White by Tony Joe White (1968)

Planes, Trains & Fake Cheese

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

Story 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Story 2

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

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

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

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

Traveling is so much fun though!

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

But First…A Joke:

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

Man: Hello?

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

Man: Yes.

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

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

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

Man: How much?

Woman: $60,000.

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

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

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

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

Man: Bye. I love you, too.

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love and Kisses, Mark..

A Prayer:

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

Book recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

461 Ocean Boulevard by Eric Clapton (1974)

Son Of a Rutmachine

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

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

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See you soon Pop, tell mom I said hi!

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (2003)

Music Recommendation:

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

Hey there, What’s Your Sign?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But First…A Joke:

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

A Verse to Contemplate:

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

Have I Told You This One?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer:

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

Book Recommendation:

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

Music Recommendation:

Ten by Pearl Jam (1991)

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)