"Fear not?" Who are they kidding?

Sunday morning I woke up feeling afraid.
There was no real reason. Sometimes it just happens. Not that frequently, thankfully. But sometimes I wake up early and find myself obsessing over things that have happened that I can't do anything about; things that are happening that I can't change; or things that "could" happen but I don't really know for sure.
Then at church, since it was the first Sunday of Advent, every song seemed to contain the phrase "Fear not!" And the sermon included a familiar Christmas refrain "Fear not!"
Fear not.
We associate that phrase with Christmas. Angels show up out of nowhere and say, "Fear not." The message is one of hope and salvation, of peace; you know, "Glad tidings of great joy."
Case in point: the sermon was from Revelation and the letter to the church at Smyrna.
Now, to me (in this meaningless aside), Smyrna is a suburb of Atlanta where I lived for a time, right near Aunt Fannie's Cabin and Cumberland Mall. Julia Roberts, the actress, grew up in Smyrna.
I didn't know her.
But in the letter to the church at Old World/Ancient World Smyrna the message is "Do not be afraid," which is the same as "Fear not!" After my morning, I fully expected this to be God's way of showing me He was aware of my morning and had prepared a message specifically to comfort me.
But of course, what does the phrase "fear not" always seem to be followed by?
And so the message to Smyrna is "Fear not! ... the devil will put some of you in prison ... you will suffer ... be faithful even to the point of death."
Fear not?
Here's the thing: almost every person or church or people group that heard the message "Fear not" could be pretty certain they were heading toward some very fearful times.
Mary was going to have this baby that would cause her great embarrassment within the community as people questioned her virtue and the parentage of this child, and it didn't stop just because the angels and shepherds and wise men appeared to celebrate His birth. Old Testament scripture suggests the whispers about Jesus' lineage continued throughout his young life. And indeed there is the whole thing about the Crucifixion.
Joseph was told to go ahead and marry this woman and raise this child as his own. He had to hear the same town gossip, the insinuations and suggestions as he lived and worked and raised a family in their home town.
And so on.

It is easy, and Lord knows I've been guilty, to make the mistake of not paying attention to what follows the "Fear not" in the Bible. I mean, it's Christmas! It's family and decorations and wonderful feel-good songs and presents and parties and celebrations of life.
But one of the things I appreciate about Scripture is the reality. If we read it honestly, we see flawed human beings who have troubles and do stupid things, when want we want to see are stories of people who loved God and so God rewarded them with comfortable, carefree lives. We read about churches that had serious problems of deceit and immorality and serious arguments over theology, not megachurches where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children above average (shout out to Lake Wobegon).
In other words, when you blow the dust off the stories of the Bible, you find stories of real people, in real situations, members of very real organizations ... who go through real situations and therefore, like the rest of us, have every reason to fear.

There is a hymn that we used to sing that goes, "This world is not my home; I'm just passing through." The problem is that the "passing through" takes a long time for most of us, and involves things like jobs and bills and family and politics and the economy and sickness and crazy neighbors and evil people and our own mistakes that cause us pain.

I wish I could write something profound that answers this question of "fear."
Perhaps the best I can do is relate a story my older brother told from when he was a seminary student. He and some classmates were playing basketball in the gym and the janitor came in to lock up. However, the janitor decided to let the guys finish their game, and he sat down on the bleachers and pulled out his Bible to read while they played (apparently he'd seen all the seminary-level basketball games he cared to watch).
Afterward, my brother says he and the other guys went over to thank the janitor and asked, "What are you reading?
The old man said, "Book of Revelations."
My brother and the others, being seminary students and therefore knowing all about theology and exegesis and interpretation, said to the old man, "Do you understand it?"
The old man said, "I think so."
My brother and his friends looked at each other, probably rather smugly, and said, "There's a lot of symbolism in that book - lamp stands and dragons and 666 and strange creatures. People have been trying to figure out what those things mean for centuries. What do you think it means?"
The old man smiled and said, "It means in the end, Jesus wins."

And that's the best answer I have for "fearing not."
Whatever we're going through now, whatever the future holds, whatever our early morning fears are and however real they may or may not be, in the end, Jesus wins.
Fear not.

Virtue as its own (limited) reward

Having had my own share of columns and news articles posted on-line and read the often bizarre 'comments' that follow, I usually don't spend much time reading the reactions to the stories that I read on-line.
However, maybe you're familiar with the story of the New York City policeman who was accidentally caught in the act of providing shoes to a shoe-and-sockless homeless man, a scene captured on camera by a tourist from Arizona.
It's a heartwarming story and a reminder that people will do the right thing ... maybe not all the time, but when moved to compassion.
Of course, some of the reaction reflected the cynical nature of our society. I read a comment that suggested the whole thing was staged as a PR stunt by the NYPD; another that said he was familiar with this particular homeless man who always sat outside shoe stores and had received several pairs of free shoes over the course of the last month; another was outraged that someone would give this man anything because so much of our taxpayer money already goes to provide "these people" with benefits; and so on.
Thankfully, most of the reaction was positive, as people responded - as I believe people usually do - with sincere appreciation toward such unselfish and random acts of kindness.
Not that we should give to every homeless or person begging we come across. Each of us has to make individual choices, and quite frankly I can't tell you why sometimes I choose to help people when I see them and why sometimes I don't. But sometimes, it just feels like the 'right' thing to do.
I know the cliche that may not always be true that by giving a street person money they will only use it on alcohol or drugs. But I also believe sometimes I can't let what I don't know paralyze me from doing something good. I can't always be responsible for how "those people" use my gift; my responsibility is for how I react ... and as I said, sometimes I feel compelled - moved by the Spirit? - to give or buy a meal, sometimes I don't. And I do believe God will hold me accountable for my lack of action as well as my action.

Two examples:
Once I was hit up by a guy in downtown Birmingham who said he was hungry and wanted a meal. I said "sorry" and kept walking. Later, I was standing in McDonalds and saw this guy, standing there, looking at the menu board, carefully counting out the change he had in his hand. I have to admit I felt horrible ... I walked over and told him to order whatever he wanted, and I'd pay for it. Maybe I was still being scammed, but I don't think so.
Another time I was at an ATM when a guy came and told me he needed money to buy groceries for his wife and baby. I just happened to be going to a nearby grocery store and told him if he met me there, I'd help him out. At the store, I said "Go get what you need and meet me back here at the check-out line." When we met up, he had gathered ..... a loaf of bread, a package of baloney, and a six pack of beer. I said, "What about your baby? And your wife?" He just looked at me. I shook my head and told him I didn't appreciate the deception. He said, "Come on, man, help me out." I didn't.

You probably have stories like both of those. Most of us do.

But in the reaction to this NYPD-shoe story, there was another section of comments that caught my attention as well. They went:

TEXASGRANNY73Posted on November 29, 2012 at 12:12pm

It is not just the uniform as you seem to indicate. It is the heart inside the uniform. What a wonderful good Samaritan story and God always blesses those who give. Very very nice it is a policeman. And the young lady who took the picture, thanks.

PCDoctors4u2

Posted on November 29, 2012 at 12:15pm

There is no middle ground here on earth…
You are either Pro Jesus Christ or you are Anti-Christ!
This is just one example where people helping people is done better than
Governments helping themselves!

SoNick

Posted on November 29, 2012 at 12:29pm
@PCDoctors4u2
what a pointless comment. What if the police officer was an atheist? Would his gesture be less mora and goodl? Would it invalidate his act of selflessness? A good man did a good deed. That’s all there is to this. And yes, these random acts of kindness restores my faith in the human race. The Human race. Not the Christian race.

PCDoctors4u2

Posted on November 29, 2012 at 12:37pm

@sonick
The hypothetical you raise would never happen. By definition an atheist is a selfish non-believer.
Without truth there is no light.
It is not my job to convince you… The choice is yours! what you do with this information is up to you!

SoNick

Posted on November 29, 2012 at 3:08pm
@PCDoctors4u2
Are you seriously trying to convince anyone that no good deed has ever been performed by non believers in the history of Humanity? Then you are either: very ignorant or completely blinded by your faith.
Also, when you say : “It is not my job to convince you…” you are merely acknowledging the weakness of your arguments. It’s not that it’s not your job; you just seem incapable of convincing anyone. And while we’re at it, if you’re such a good believer, shouldn’t it be your job to convince lost souls? Just sayin’…

That this act turned into a theological debate (of sorts) reminded me that kindness is not exclusive to Christianity, or even to people who believe in God at all. The one writer is correct: much good has been done by non-Christians and atheists.
And it reminded me of something I read sometime ago by Albert Mohler, of Southern Seminary. It was an article that said "Christian Values Cannot Save Anyone."
In it, Mohler addresses a young woman who was distraught that her children had rebelled against her faith, particularly when this mother said she tried to raise her family under the same strong Christian values she grew up with.
And Mohler points out that, "Christian values are the problem. Hell will be filled with people who were avidly committed to Christian values. Christian values cannot save anyone and never will. The gospel of Jesus Christ is not a Christian value, and a comfortability with Christian values can blind sinners to their need for the gospel. ..."
In this country, particularly in the part of the country I live in, most of us have some commitment to values that we'd call "Christian." I was talking to a friend recently who is looking for a place to worship, and his problem was not that there were not enough choices, but that there were so many. We're blessed in my community to have a number of good options of places to worship and grow in faith.
And while we need values, we Christians need to remember that "values" - no matter how dedicated people are to living by them - do not save. My faith and my belief is that eternal salvation comes only by the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I do believe that most of us are, by nature, moralists: we want people to live together well and by a certain set of standards that produces what we believe or have learned will do the best job of promoting a safe, secure community.
Yet "moralism" can be one of the greatest dangers we face. History is filled with societies that became "culturally Christian," and too often cultural Christianity devolves into atheism, agnosticism, and other forms of non-belief as people continue to strive to do "good" without a deeper understanding of what "good" truly is.
Mohler writes, "The language of values is all that remains when the substance of belief disappears. ... We should not pray for Christian morality to disappear or for Christian values to evaporate. ... But a culture marked even by Christian values is in desperate need of evangelism, and that evangelism requires the knowledge that Christian values and the gospel of Jesus Christ are not the same thing. ..."

I normally don't spend so much time quoting someone else. It would be easier just to provide the link to the original, but I don't have it anymore.
And I know Mohler can be controversial and maybe you don't like him, but I think the point is still valid, that "values do not save anyone."
Or, to put a twist on an old saying, sometimes "virtue is its own reward."
I pray that even as I continue to help those in need, that I remember that as important as physical help is (and it's critical), spiritual help is eternal.

Thanksgiving, and what 'would have been'

A week or so ago, Grayson and I were having lunch. I had taken MG to Memphis the week before to see her father, who was going to the doctor to see if his cancer had come back, and because it had come back with vengeance she stayed another week to make return trips to the various doctors as Mr. McGowan made decisions on what he wanted to do next.
I was telling Grayson, who is particularly close to "Poppa" (as MG's father is called by my kids), that the prognosis was not good. And as we talked, Grayson said something to the effect of, "This would have been a horrible year if Mom had died and then Poppa died, too."

I was pleased that he said this "would have ... if", because it would be easy to stay this has been a horrible year. In one seemingly random morning last April, MG's life - and therefore the lives of my family - changed forever. That she's alive is a miracle (no one at the scene of the accident believed she'd survive, and the doctors were not overly confident those first couple of days at the hospital either). With even as much progress as MG has made, we're coming to terms that certain limitations and impairments may well be permanent.
At the same time, we all knew Poppa wouldn't be with us forever, but given his optimism and determination (this is a man who drove from St. Louis back to Memphis when he was having a heart attack because he wanted to go to his own doctor), it is hard to imagine a time without him in our lives. So when you hear a  doctor actually lay out a time-line, putting parameters on the number of days he has left, it's a little mind-numbing.

This year could easily have gone down as one of the worst for us as a family, and I don't think anyone would have blamed us. But that Gray said it "would have ...  if" said to me that despite it all, my family remains hopeful. And as I happened to hear Fess Parker, in his role as Daniel Boone, say at the end of re-run on MeTV of the other day, "A man without hope becomes not much different than an animal." Despite the source of that philosophy, I do think that hope is one of the essential characteristics of us as human beings.

And I'm reminded on this Thanksgiving weekend of the origin of the holiday of having read somewhere that the Pilgrims made seven times more graves than they did huts, yet we remember them every year for having set aside a day not to feel sorry for themselves, but to be thankful. That's the essence of hope.

I'm going to be honest here: at times, I'm not thankful. At times, I want revenge. The further we get away from The Accident and the more I realize how MG's life will never be the way it was and the guy that hit her remains out there, finally indicted but still suffering no consequence (that I'm aware of) for his action (there is no trial date set even now), and I see the consequences my family has faced and continues to face, I get angry.
There are so many seemingly inconsequential consequences of what has happened that we discover almost every day. And again, just to be completely honest, when people say to us, "You've come so far" there are times I think, "but there is only so far we'll be able to go" because more and more we're aware there is much we'll never get back.
Yes, it would be easy to say this was a horrible year.

And yet we - I - remain thankful.
The family gathered around the dinner table Thursday, sharing Thanksgiving with some good friends who, like so many of you, have walked this road with us as much as anybody can. We've got family coming into town this weekend, and it is such a blessing to have family and friends and to be as supported and cared for and loved as my family has been.

We've made the 23rd Psalm almost a cliche in our culture, something we learn to recite early in our lives and then use it so much it comes dangerously close to losing its meaning. However, a random story that I came across the other day caused me to stop and re-read this Psalm from David which, along with John 3:16, must have been one of the first parts of Scripture I ever memorized.

A minister of some kind in New Jersey named Len Deo re-wrote the 23rd Psalm in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, the effects of which the people in that part of the country are still feeling and will for years to come. We have seen the scenes of people in need, of houses destroyed, of shortages for food and water and power. He wrote it this way:

The LORD is my shepherd, and shepherds have it rough right now. He has no place to make me lie down but muddy pastures; He leads me beside troubled waters. He is giving my soul a lot of unusual work. He leads me in the paths of perseverance for a purpose I really don't see. Yea, I am walking through the aftermath of a hurricane and You are still prodding me; Your rod and Your staff, they are uncomfortable. You have filled my house with my children all day long; You anoint my head with cold showers; my impatience runneth over. Surely the good times went out with the lights, and I will dwell in my dim house for yet another day that feels like forever.

That's not how the Psalm goes, of course. But most of us can relate to the feeling. I sat down and re-wrote the Psalm for myself, filling in the way I feel right now. I won't share it because Mr. Deo's version makes the point. But it's an exercise I highly recommend.

What I was reminded of was that God does not stop being good just because our circumstances become difficult. I continue to trust Him, because where else can I turn? And I don't mean that as a last resort kind of statement, but one that time and life has proven to me to be the best and safest and surest 'resort.' I know I can trust Him through anything and everything.

So here we are, nearing the end of this year that has changed our lives so dramatically, that promises to continue to alter our lives for years to come.
I am thankful for my wife being alive (as painful as that is for her); for my kids (and the laughter as well as the serious discussions we share when we get together); for my extended family and that after 20-something years of uncomfortable interaction my father-in-law and I finally resolved what I should call him (another blog for another day); for a job in this economy (and learning that my hope is not in my job but truly in the Lord); for experiencing the love and care of friends and community who became and continue to be the very hands and feet of Christ in very real, practical ways; so many things.

But mostly, I'm thankful that this "would have been" a horrible year, but wasn't ... not because no one died (although there is that), but because through it all we remain hopeful.

And as Czechoslovakian poet and president Vaclav Havel once wrote, "Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out."

Being poor, being broke - and ignoring the difference

It's Thanksgiving, which can mean only one thing:
Black Friday.
Somewhere amidst the turkey and family and football and expressing all the things we're thankful for, we've managed to turn this weekend into the biggest shopping day of the year.
Are you thankful for shopping?
On Monday of this week, I was listening to a story of people who are already lining up outside certain retailers to be first in the story for the great deals offered on Black Friday (which some stores have apparently determined now begin late Thursday).
These are easy news stories, in that you go out and find people who are camping out to be first in line to get the latest craze in electronics or toys (remember "Tickle Me Elmo"?). And I've always thought the people who camped out like this are the same people who camped out in college for tickets to concerts or sporting events, and it came to be popular as much the experience of the camp-out as it was for the event.
It is certainly smart to take advantage of these sales, particularly in this economy where all of us are struggling.
However, in this report I was listening to on radio Monday, many of the people who were camping out already were saying they "had" to do this because the economy was so bad and they were "poor."
It made me think of a lot of the popular news stories about being poor, and I realized a lot of people just don't understand the difference between being "poor" and being  "broke."

I've been poor.
Now even in saying that, I recognize everything is relative.
But for the sake of pointing out the difference ...  in my first newspaper job, I made something like $150 a week. Before taxes. And even in the olden days of my youth, $150 a week didn't go far in Atlanta, Ga. I shared an apartment right off I-285 near the Chattahoochee River, and even though I drove a small car that got better than 30 miles to the gallon I had to drive about 30-45 minutes to and from work and it was expensive. My boss thought I was a real hustler because I volunteered to go to every press conference in the city, but the truth is that in those days most press conferences also served free food. There were days when lunch or dinner consisted of a 50 cent coke and a 50 cent pack of crackers and cheese from a vending machine - a meal for a dollar. And, yes, I remember bringing packs of ketchup from fast food restaurants and mixing them in boiling water to try to create something close to tomato soup. And ramen noodles. I honestly didn't make enough money to live on. Thankfully I was single; I'd never have made it if I had been maried or had a family.

And I've been broke.
After that first job, when I started making more money, I guess I tried to make up for those years of being poor by spending everything I made. I made enough that I could live on my own and drive a newer car and eat regularly and go to concerts and movies and things that cost money, and I tended to spend everything I made.

I think about that when I hear people talk about "the poor" in this country. I know there are poor people. But I also know there are people who claim to be poor who are just broke.
Oh, they probably don't make as much money as the median income or whatever measurement you want to use, but they make enough "if" ... if they knew how to do things like budget and differentiate between wants and needs (two things that, I freely admit, I don't know how to do very well either).
We all know the cliches of the families on welfare who have big screen color HD TVs hooked up to satellite dishes that sit in the yard next to two relatively new SUVs.
Maybe it's not cliche. One common measure of poverty in the United States is something called the "poverty threshold'' set by the U.S. government that establishes poverty as a "lack of goods and services commonly taken for granted by members of mainstream society."
That means we judge poor in this nation in comparison to what the rest of us (the "broke) have.
And the problem with that is if we're 'broke' trying to get all the stuff we think we need then we're raising the standard of poverty and blurring the lines between 'poor' and 'broke.' No wonder we think government should provide cell phones and internet access!

So naturally when I hear people who claim the "need" to take advantage of the Black Friday sales because they are "poor," I think, why don't they save the money they are spending on these "needs" and put it in the bank and maybe next year they wouldn't be quite so "poor."
But then I have to ask myself, why don't I?

This may sound judgemental, but I don't mean it that way. There are poor people, people who don't make enough to provide for the basic needs all of us have. I do believe government has a place in helping, but just not as big of a role as government has taken on. But that's another blog for another day.
As much as anything, this is aimed at me (and maybe people like me).
Somewhere along the way, I read a story about an old preacher - John Wesley, or someone like him. The story went that, for most of his life, he lived off the same amount of money he made his first year of preaching, and that when he got raises or made more money he used that money for the ministry. I remember thinking, I used to live off a certain amount of money less than I make now; what if I had just continued to live off that amount and everything above that I put in savings or invested or donated to worthy causes? How much easier would life be?
I know the answer.
It's just doing it that seems impossible.

Jefferson after a contentious election

It was a nasty election, one that threatened the unity of the nation due to the acrimony of the political parties.

No, I'm not talking about the election of 2012, but rather of 1800; an election filled with intrigue, betrayal, and a a tie in the electoral college that was one of the first truly significant threats to the functioning of the still relatively new government of the United States.
But as fascinating as the history of that election is (and as much as the old history teacher in me would like to go into it), what struck me as significant was a portion of Thomas Jefferson's inaugural address. Jefferson, the winner of the presidential election, recognized that the process had been bitter and hard-fought and many remained divided between the Federalists and the Republican parties and the direction of the country.

So Jefferson recognized the potential of a serious threat to the unity of the Union, and addressed it in his inauguration speech, at one point saying: "We are all Republicans, we are all Federalists. If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it."

There is much to consider in both of those sentences.
In the first, Jefferson reminded the country that the office of the President was created to represent all the people of the United States. While members of Congress were elected to represent states or districts within those states, the founding fathers - after much debate - recognized the need of an executive authority who would not represent a state or region but was to represent "the people."

Imagine a modern president taking office and saying "Today, I'm not a Republican, I'm not a Democrat. I'm not here to represent the 52 percent of the people who voted for me. I'm the president of all the people, and as such I need to consider the interests and concerns of them all."
It also says something about the people we have elected to that office that quite a few of them actually grew out of party identification and into the responsibility that comes with the job.

But just as important is the second sentence.
"If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its republican form ..." was a real issue, one that would be addressed multiple times over the next 65 years - at the Hartford Convention of 1814 when northeastern states voted secession from the union in disagreement over the War of 1812 ("Mr. Madison's War" as they called it), blaming the war on President James Madison; in 1832, when southern states came close to seceding over the lack of representation in the government around the issue of tariffs on imports and exports; and of course in 1860 when secession became real when Southern states finally did withdraw from the Union.

Secession is back in the news this week with a lot of attention on those web-based petitions that, while of no real political consequence, should at least be recognized as an expression of displeasure by a part of the country over the current state of affairs.

Which leads us to the second part of Jefferson's sentence: " ... let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it."
Maybe I'm reading Jefferson incorrectly, but it sounds to me as if he's saying, "let those people have their say and prove that even their error of opinion can be tolerated in a free society of reasonable people."

I am one of those people who believe disagreement can be healthy, particularly when it comes to government. We  - and those politicians we elect to represent and govern us - need to be careful when embarking on the process of governance. The creating of the Constitution was not easy, with men representing very different parts of the country fighting to defend their views of what was best for the future of their country and finally coming up with a compromise between the desire to maintain independence from government, the desire for states' rights, and the recognition of the necessity of a strong central government.

The process of governing such a huge and diverse country is no easier today than it was in Jefferson's day.
But neither does it have to be more difficult, if we're willing to listen as much as we talk, consider as much as we persuade, and - after the elections are over - recognize that, as Jefferson also said, "every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle."

Yes, elections have consequences, and the will of the majority does prevail, as it should. But that "will" must also be reasonable, recognizing that the minority of any election has rights, too, which must be considered. To paraphrase Jefferson,  what use is a country built on tolerance of religious belief if it allows political intolerance to be as "despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions'' (as were the religious persecutions that so many came to this country to avoid)?

It is also important for the minority - the 'losers,' if you will - to recognize that the vote was taken, the people have spoken, and the direction of the country has been established at least until the next election.

I read a recent interview with Florida Sen. Marco Rubio, who expressed similar sentiments in saying the current climate seems to be that "it's OK for one side to express their view and the other side needs to be quiet. ... Are we saying that they should be silenced or not allowed to speak or voice their opinion? There’s a way to do that that is respectful and productive. There are things we’ll always disagree on, but it doesn’t mean we go to war over them or divide our country over them. We agree to disagree, but we continue to work together on the things we all know that we have to do."

There is a lot of talk of general unhappiness and what "we ought to do about it." It is venting, and as Mr. Jefferson said, we should show we're strong enough to allow people to vent.

However, as Mr. Jefferson knew better than I, sooner or later we need to move on from venting and recognize the country as it is so that we can pursue serious ideas to save this government ("the world's best hope" as Mr. Jefferson called it) and this country that we love from the abyss.

If you are interested, here is one link to Jefferson's speech, While written in the language of the 1800s, it is worth re-reading, if for no other reason than to remind us that we've been down roads similar to this before.

Of God and government; cars and cell phones

There is a song from my misguided youth that too often seems to sum up my theology.
It was recorded by Janis Joplin, entitled "Mercedes Benz."
The lyrics are:

Oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends.
So oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.
Oh lord won't you buy me a color TV.
Dialing for Dollars is trying to find me.
I wait for delivery each day until 3.
So oh lord won't you buy me a color TV.
Oh lord won't you buy me a night on the town.
I'm counting on you lord, please don't let me down.
Prove that you love me and buy the next round.
Oh lord won't you buy me a night on the town.
Everybody, Oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends.
So oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.

The song, recorded a Capella, was one of the last ever recorded by Joplin. (and as an aside, I wonder how many people remember "Dialing for Dollars?")

Anyway, too many times I find myself "praying" something all too similar to this song (although with nothing close to the voice of the last Ms. Joplin). I guess it's just part of human nature - or at least my human nature - to keep coming back to God with what I think He could do for me to make me happy (as if that's His purpose in creating this universe we live in).

Maybe because God has disappointed us in our feeble prayers, I wonder if many in this country haven't substituted "government" for God, as in this well-publicised video from the recent presidential election:

Now, a lot of people are concerned about separation of church and state. But as this country becomes less "church" (as various polls and statistics say) I can't help but wonder if there isn't a transference of faith as we look to government to answer our prayers, in effect putting our trust in whoever is in power (and this isn't about Democrats or Republicans) to provide what we "need."

We can argue all day about who failed whom; whether it was God or the government. Certainly we can argue that the Church should have done more, but then maybe that would have constituted the church getting involved in an area the state took greater responsibility for in 1964 with then-president Lyndon Johnson's declaration of a "War on Poverty" that begat a host of official government programs to provide for those below the poverty line.

This country was founded by people who were trying to get away from government and the class system of Europe, who wanted to succeed or fail on their own merits. But the simple fact is that as people begin to live together in cities, and as this country moved from an agrarian society to an urban society (which really didn't happen until the early 1900s) so too did government move from state's rights to a more centralized federal government.
But rather than get bogged down in a history lesson - knowing full well that while historical facts are finite, the interpretation of those facts seems to be infinite - I decided it was a good excuse to bring back a little Janis Joplin, and wonder if she were alive today, would she be asking God or the President for her Mercedes Benz?

Picking your oppression label

So to what oppressed group do you belong?
If you're not part of one, you're not relevant, not cool, you apparently don't matter.
We all know the "groups" that matter: African-Americans and women, of course. Hispanics (or Latinos, depending on your choice of labels). The Gay community.
But there are Native Americans. Native Hawaiians. Native Alaskans. Migrant farm workers. Illegals. Union members. Tea Partiers. The 99 percent. Environmentalists.
The young and the old (The advocates for Senior Citizens have, in one case, banded together under the clever label "Gray Matters").
Muslims, of course. Jews. Evangelical Christians. Atheists. And nobody seems to like Hari Krishnas (at least not at the airport).
And then the sub sets: Working women. Single moms. Soccer moms. NASCAR moms. And USA Today not long ago introduced a new group it called "Wal-Mart moms."

There is something about our society that awards some sort of perceived moral authority to people we label "victims" or "marginalized" or "oppressed" - perhaps because we love to fight for "rights" - human rights, women's rights, civil rights, animal rights, gay rights ... again, if you don't think you're being denied some basic right, call the ACLU or the Southern Poverty Law Center; I'm sure someone on staff at one of those two organizations can find some way you've been oppressed.

This will come as a shock to many of the people in many of the above lists, but this very idea of the oppressed having such standing can be traced to .... Christianity.
Yes, I know. It's popular to blame Christians and Christianity for being the cause of so much oppression. And I am certainly aware of the many times in history that people, animals, and the environment (just to cover my bases) have been victimized by certain groups in the name of Christ.
But Jesus - who lived as part of an oppressed group under a harsh and repressive occupying government - instructed his followers to take the side of the underdog: the widow and orphan and prisoner and the hungry.
Consider that Jesus himself died as a prisoner, and his early followers continued to be victimized throughout the early years after Jesus' death (and resurrection). Most of history is the story of the powerful oppressing the conquered, and nobody wanted to identify with the powerless.
But Christianity is the story of the victim becoming the hero by becoming the victim. That was Jesus' example, and it's an model that Christianity has followed time after time.
And the way early Christians conducted themselves won over the populace in Europe, and did so without weapons or allies or any semblance of earthly power.
And even as Christianity became identified with political power in Europe and, therefore, throughout the world, it is also true that throughout the subsequent centuries Christians took the lead in the move to end slavery and educate the illiterate and bring medical care and, yes, elevate the oppressed by fighting to end the idea of "classes" of people in societies all around the world.

So if today we lift up the victimized and oppressed and bestow upon them a level of recognition or popularity, it is because of the influence of Christianity. As someone once wrote, "in a great irony, the politically correct movement often portrays itself as an enemy of Christianity when in fact the gospel has contributed to what has made possible the existence of such a movement." (I can't remember where that came from; I found it written on a scrap of paper in my Bible).

Even when accused (and sometimes being guilty) of oppression, the Church's influence to make our society better continues.

Three horrible little words:"In a minute"

It's been awhile since I posted, and even longer since I posted about MG, who would say herself that she's reached a bit of a plateau - or at least what feels like a plateau - where change is incremental.
It's therapy and rest, therapy and rest. Even her therapist has said that she should probably shoot for about 45 minutes of activity, followed by 20 minutes of rest. The pain has been so persistent, that the thought now is that maybe MG was working too hard and needs to back off - which is hard for her, because that's not MG's personality.
If there is one phrase that runs throughout our home, that is common to myself and the kids, it's "In a minute." And it drives MG crazy. Whatever needs to be done, whenever someone is asked to do something, the answer seems to always be "in a minute" - which could mean a minute, or it could mean an hour, or a day, or never.
That's my influence, I'm afraid; I'm the procrastinator. MG is always the one that sees a task and says, "right now."
So for this new course of action to encourage inaction is difficult. Even as her therapist told her that they should back off some of the therapy (that includes sessions with a wonderful exercise physiologist), MG's fear was that she would run the risk of losing what progress she'd made.
On top of that all, we continue to find little injuries that we weren't aware of before. Whether these are injuries from the accident that seemed so incidental as to be overlooked initially, or maybe compensation injuries that occurred in the aftermath, the way walking with a limp can cause muscle damage because it's not a natural gait, we just don't know. 
And the question that hangs over every day remains, "Is this the new normal?" I still don't believe it is, but then I may have been in denial since the morning of the accident, refusing from the beginning to believe everything would not, some day, be all right. So it's hard for me to accept that it might not be, even as doctors and therapists tell us that these injuries were so severe that it's almost certain there will be life-long consequences. The only question is, how serious, how debilitating will they be?
And how long will it take?

But along the way, we still stumble into unexpected blessings.
Shoes remain important (as I wrote about here, in "Hell on heels.")
As the weather started to get cooler, we needed MG was going to need something better than the sandals she's worn all summer. So we went to a local Academy Sports to buy some tennis shoes.
We found a pair and were trying to get them on over the orthotic, struggling. MG was starting to get emotional again because it wasn't working, and I realized we needed a shoe horn.
I went from aisle to aisle until I found this guy who worked in the shoe department, and asked him for a shoe horn. I could tell he was annoyed at first, looking at my feet because he thought it was for me. I said, "It's not for me, it's my wife - she's been in an accident and we're trying to find a shoe that will fit over this brace she wears." Still somewhat grudgingly, he came down to where MG was sitting ... and suddenly, just like that, his entire attitude changed.
He couldn't have been more helpful. It turns out, he once owned his own shoe repair place, so he was incredibly helpful. He had his own shoe horn, but more than that he looked immediately and saw we had the wrong width, what size we needed, which brand would work best, how we could take the inner sole out of one shoe and double it up in the other to even out the height of the shoe.
When MG walked in these shoes, her hips were even and her walk level. I could tell MG was so encouraged, if not excited. This man said the shoe horn he had was his own personal one, but he offered to give it to us (we didn't take it, but he did give us good direction on what kind we should get and how to find it). I can't tell you how what an encouragement this gentleman turned out to be and, I think, even he felt good about being able to provide a solution to a real problem. I hope he walked away feeling as blessed as we did.
Then .... one night, driving back to Birmingham, my sister and I were talking and she mentioned that she had a friend with drop foot who found she could wear a boot without a brace because the boot worked to keep her foot at a 90-degree angle, and wondered if that would work for MG.
I got home, and without even telling MG about that conversation, MG said she wanted to go shopping for some boots because she was worried about being cold. So we drove to - where else? - DSW.
As we walked in, I did feel a sense of dread. The last time here was so disappointing and discouraging. And I admit to being afraid.
And once inside we saw row after row of boots, and as first it seemed all of them had heels- mostly high, very stylish, and completely out of the question.
But we started looking. I found a flat boot, and MG tried it on. It kind of worked. I went looking for more options, and MG tried on another pair and then walked down the row to get a feel and look for more.
She came back with a pair of Ralph Lauren boots that I could tell she liked. We got them on - without the brace - and she started walking. I  watched, admittedly holding my breath.
When MG turned to come back, she was smiling. The boots seemed to work. We sat down and I heard MG say, "Thank you Ralph Lauren."
I don't know what the trip to DSW did for MG - I can imagine - but I can't tell you how thankful I was to leave having made a purchase, to see MG smiling, to see her encouraged at yet another option for footwear!

Now, here's the deal. The tennis shoes are great. MG wears them all the time for her therapy and workouts, and around the house. The boots? Well, the reality is they may not work like we first hoped they would. They remain in her closet, and we'll see.
But what is important is the blessing that both shopping trips represented. It was "normal" - MG looked for shoes, tried some one, walked around in them, bought them and brought them home.
That sounds crazy, the kind of thing that most of us take for granted or - in the case of whoever is paying for the shoes - might even dread.
But among the many lessons we've been forced to recognize is to not take simple things for granted; in fact the very word "simple" becomes non-existent because so very few things are "simple" anymore.

Hopefully, we'll get there and one day simple things will be simple again.
But when?
Dare I say it may be ... "in a minute?"

Do you really know who you're disagreeing with?

Interesting debate.
Not the one on TV Tuesday night - although that was interesting, too.
No, the interesting debates are the ones that take place on the web - on facebook, in chat rooms.

I admit to getting sucked in to the conversation. You read something in a blog or a post from a friend, and then see a follow-up comment from someone else, and someone else, and sometimes it strikes a chord and you feel compelled to jump in.
For the most part, these are good. Usually I find these to be interesting exchanges of ideas. Most of the people I tend to converse with over the internet are thoughtful, or at least funny, and pretty respectful of other people's ideas.
Another public discourse I like to read - but almost never join in - are the 'comments' section under stories posted on web sites. Those are the ones where you get people whose idea of combating ideas they don't like is the old "yo momma'' approach; where they don't offer a rational or thoughtful argument but just accuse the other person of being stupid, a redneck, a misogynist, a racist ... whatever.

Recently I got into one of those on facebook. It was a friend's page - which I have access to, obviously - on which he started a political discussion. Then one of his friends, someone I don't know, jumped in with a comment that I found to be ridiculous, so I responded.
And he responded.
And I responded.
Until it occurred to me, I don't know this guy. I don't know if he's being serious, or ironic, or sarcastic, or just trying to be funny.
Maybe he's trying to get a rise out of someone and laughing as he realizes he got to me.

I should know better.
I have a friend who started a very popular web site that includes a 'chat room.' The site deals with sports, and is incredibly popular. My friend has done quite well, since it's a pay site.
However, I once was talking about the arguments that took place in the chat room between people with made-up names (since very few people on the internet ever use their real names in posting comments).
And he told me something I should have known but hadn't thought of.
He told me he knows who all the people are who are members of his private pay site, and he knows them by their "screen name." He said he reads the discussion that takes place in those chat rooms and laughs. He told me if people knew who they were arguing with, they'd be embarrassed.
I asked what he meant, and he told me about 56-year-old highly respected and brilliant lawyers who get caught up arguing with 13-year-olds; about all kinds of professional men who get worked  up arguing with college kids.
In other words, people who, if they were actually face to face, would have a completely different tone to their conversation will, online behind screen names, get worked up because they assume everyone they are talking to is like them - similar age, similar education, similar experience.

I like to express ideas and opinions. I enjoy having people disagree with me, or sharing divergent thoughts. Those challenges are what either strengthens my conviction or causes me to re-think a position.
But hopefully with respect.

Although occasionally, a good "yo' momma'' makes me laugh.

Saturday night: more thoughts on fandom

So I find myself in New Iberia, La., at the World Championship Gumbo Cook-off.
It's not far from Baton Rouge, where that evening LSU will play South Carolina. Since this is Louisiana, and Baton Rouge is not far from here and this festival really is a big deal, there are lot of people wearing their LSU gear, and a few people who support South Carolina.
Actually, there are fans of other schools showing their support, too. The "Ragin' Cajuns" of Louisiana Lafayette are well represented, as are the New Orleans Saints; I saw a couple people wearing Texas A&M stuff, a Grambling t-shirt, and even one lady wearing a Georgia shirt.

But sometimes the mind goes goofy, I'll admit.
I was standing with a guy wearing an LSU game jersey, and this other guy walks up and says, "LSU, huh? Are you guys going to stay with Zach Metzenberger at quarterback if you lose tonight?"
And I couldn't help myself. I said:\

"Wait a minute. You understand this guy is just wearing an LSU jersey he probably bought at sporting goods store somewhere, right? He doesn't really play for LSU. I mean, I know it's a nice jersey. It looks like one of those 'authentic game day' jerseys.
"But I don't think the administration at LSU is sitting around thinking, 'if our quarterback doesn't play well tonight, what do we do?' And some guy then says, 'We need to find a guy wearing a really good-looking, authentic game-day jersey and ask him! He'll know what we should do!"

OK, I'm being hard on a college football fan who was just making the kind of conversation fans make every day, every where. You see somebody wearing a t-shirt of a team and say things like, "Who are you guys going to start tonight?" or "What in the world were you guys thinking in that last game?" or my favorite, "Who are you guys going to hire as your next coach?"
As fans, we love to offer our authoritative opinion on any topic knowing we have nothing to lose - it's not our job, we're not getting paid, we're not playing the game. Heck, most of us don't even invest in tickets to the game but sit at home and watch on TV or listen on radio. Other than our emotion, our investment is limited to paying the cable TV bill every month and maybe buying a bunch of t-shirts, caps, posters, and other stuff that keeps sports from being the one business that truly seems recession-proof.

Which, come to think of it, means we do have a lot to lose. We don't want to be that guy wearing the Kentucky t-shirt during football season, knowing people are feeling sorry for us (but of course all that changes once basketball season starts).
There is a certain amount of belonging that comes in wearing team gear, particularly if you're away from home.
In the middle of the crowd, I saw a nice lady wearing a red t-shirt with the familiar black "G" of the University of Georgia. As I walked by, I gave a nice "Go Dogs!" to her.
She didn't hear me.
Or else it wasn't really a "G" for Georgia.

I remember a missionary friend who was high in the mountains of Peru and came across a villager wearing a Georgia t-shirt. The missionary said to the villager, "Hey, I like that shirt. Are you a Georgia fan?" To which the village got real excited and said to the missionary in his broken English, "How 'bout them Dawgs?" And followed it up immediately with the question, "What does that mean? An American gave me this t-shirt and told me if I ever met someone from Georgia, that's what I was supposed to say. But I don't know why."
My missionary friend said that taught him how much easier it is to convert someone to college football than to faith.

A long time ago, in an attempt to make a point, I once wrote, "You know religion is important in the South because it keeps getting compared to football."

My preacher actually used that line in one of his sermons once.
I  think some of the congregation was offended, thinking he was making light of college football.

More issues on ballot than future of Big Bird

Maybe you've noticed there is an election coming up.

But beyond concerns over Big Bird and health care and who is paying enough taxes, there are a few other things that I'm wondering about.

Massachusetts will be voting on something called  "Question 2," also known as the “Death with Dignity” Initiative, which would establish a state statute by which physician-assisted death, also known as euthanasia, would be legal.

Oregon, Colorado and Washington all have ballot initiatives for the legalization of recreational marijuana consumption within those states.

And Maine, Maryland, Minnesota, and Washington state will have gay marriage proposals on their ballots.

I'm not going to debate the individual pros and cons of these initiatives.

What concerns me is if all these pass, much like the recent immigration laws passed by states like Arizona, Alabama, Georgia, and others, who will be responsible for enforcing what law?

What happens when state laws violate federal laws, or federal laws violate state laws? We've seen instances where a state says it will usurp federal authority to enforce federal immigration laws because the state doesn't believe the federal government will enforce its own laws; and then we see the federal authority say the states are acting without authority. Or states pass immigration laws, which the federal government then challenges in court, creating the argument over federal vs. state's rights.

And if that paragraph leaves you scratching your head ... that's kind of what these divergent opinions on "law" are causing me to do.

We could substitute almost any of the above laws for this, but let's look at the marriage issue.

In 1996, President Bill Clinton (a Democrat) signed the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) into law with a large bi-partisan majority in Congress approving the legislation. That act established that the United States government would recognize only the union of a man and a woman as marriage, and no state would be required to recognize a same-sex union performed in any other state.

Now, President Barack Obama (also a Democrat) has ordered the Attorney General of the United States not to defend DOMA in the Federal Courts. And in fact, President Obama and the party of Bill Clinton are actively promoting what that federal statue - which, by the way, still bears the full force of federal law - prohibits.

I bring up the fact that both Presidents Clinton and Obama are Democrats only to show how different in roughly 16 years time the Democratic party has become. The same President who signed DOMA into law has actively endorsed the President who refuses to uphold that law.

What about swearing to defend the Constitution and uphold the laws of the United States?

Let's consider another potential conflict: What happens if one of those states does indeed pass a law legalizing recreational use of marijuana? Will local police then ignore federal  drug laws? Could individual cities in those states' then pass their own laws making marijuana illegal, furthering the confusion over who is in charge?

And if a state refuses to recognize federal law, could the Federal government choose to declare marshall law in those states so the federal laws are enforced? I know that seems like a stretch in these circumstances, but isn't that what the Federal government is supposed to do when a state or community chooses to disregard Federal law - as in the case of Phenix City, Al, in the 1950s, and did sporadically throughout the South during the Civil Rights movement of the 1960?

Obviously I'm not a lawyer. Maybe there is a simple explanation for this. I know the "Supremacy Clause" of the Constitution says (Article VI) says: This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding. 

This seems to mean that any federal law trumps any conflicting state law.

That is, if the federal government is willing to back up its own laws.

Another thing to consider: what starts as a law at the state level very often eventually winds up becoming law at the national level. (Case in point: we often forget how a majority or near-majority of states had banned alcohol before prohibition became the law of the land in the 1920s).

We all know how different regions of the country are from each other, and certainly how different states can be. Sometimes you almost think you need a passport to go from one state to another.
Somewhere I remember reading a German philosopher who said, "Democracy requires of its citizens qualities that it cannot provide." I took that to mean that democracies may give us hope for having an educated, healthy, prosperous, and free society, but no government can provide the qualities of integrity, self-sacrifice, and personal responsibility required to make such a vision come true.

I know you may be reading this and getting all worked up over the law or the proposed law itself, but that's not my intent here.

My concern is confusion over the law - whatever the law is.

There is an election in November, but it is starting to look like it's a lot more than just about who will be the next President of the United States. Decisions made in individual states will say a lot about the character of America, of where America is going and what Americans believe.

Having forgotten how tough it can be to be a fan

Weekends like this may be why I enjoyed being a sportswriter more than being a fan.

As a sportswriter, I loved going to the games and looking for the good story - why a game was won or lost, that decision or action that might have played a major role in the outcome that perhaps wasn't obvious to someone just watching the game, the importance of a play or a decision not just in that game but perhaps on the season or program overall.
Every game has subplots - key match-ups between individual players, the chess match between offensive and defensive coordinators. One of my favorite stories remains from the first Southeastern Conference Championship game, between Alabama and Florida at Legion Field in 1992. The first half, Florida was having great success with this little inside shovel pass until - according to then-Alabama defensive coordinator Bill Oliver - Tide defensive back Sam Shade actually blew his assignment but wound up quite by accident in the right place to stop the play. Florida's Steve Spurrier didn't go back to that play because, Oliver thought, Spurrier was convinced Oliver had adjusted when in fact Shade's play was an accident.
 On such moments and sometimes accidents are championships often won or lost. That was what I tried to bring to sports writing - things that you couldn't get just by watching the game.

But I'm out of the business now. I'm re-learning how to be a fan, to care about the outcome of the game more than how the outcome came about.
So yes, I have managed to care again about how Georgia does in football. I am, after all, a Georgia graduate (even though I've now lived more of my life in the state of Alabama). Not that I ever thought this year's Bulldog team was up to the level of an Alabama - certainly defensively - but I believed the offense was good enough to score on anybody.
And then came Saturday against South Carolina.
It was a game that reminded me of one of the classic Lewis Grizzard columns of all time, a column that showed just how much influence and popularity Grizzard had in Georgia and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
Grizzard loved Georgia football, and after one particularly galling loss to Georgia Tech, Grizzard's column was one sentence: "I don't want to talk about it." And the rest of the left hand side of the page, which Grizzard's column was supposed to fill with prose, was left blank. In the business, we'd call this "creative use of white space."
That's how I feel about the Georgia-South Carolina game this weekend.

It's also how I feel about the Atlanta Braves' one-game playoff with the Cardinals. My best friend in high school was Mitch, and we loved baseball. We used to go down and sit in the cheap seats in the outfield, and even though the Braves were terrible back in those days (the days when all Atlanta sports teams were so bad the city was nicknamed "Loserville"), year after year we had hope.
It was a hope that was finally driven out of me. Even in the decade of the 90s when Atlanta had one of the best regular-season teams in baseball, I refused to get back on the Braves' bandwagon.
Well, not entirely. Come playoff time I'd find myself daring to hope and, other than one year when the Braves managed to win the World Series, year after year I'd be disappointed.
Somehow I thought this year might be different. Maybe it's because it was Chipper Jones' last year. Maybe because .... I don't know, maybe because I'm just a sucker who hasn't shaken my childhood allegiances as much as I'd like to think I have.
It didn't help that Mitch kept texting me during the game. I wasn't watching; I was at a company-sponsored function. I kept trying to text Mitch back to quit texting me, but he kept texting me (it's OK). But do you know how frustrating it is to get cryptic text messages and have no idea what's going on, other than it's not good for your team?
I finally saw the "infield fly'' controversy, but I still haven't seen Chipper's throwing error, and have refused to watch his last at-bat.
The only good thing is that so much of my family lives in St. Louis and we're Cardinals' fans, so there is that.
However, later that night I turn on to watch the Rangers - who I cheer for because my buddy Shayne is on the coaching staff - lose 5-1. Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, two outs, and the season ends on a pop up to the outfield. Two straight years going to the World Series (Shayne wasn't on the staff the last two years), and I was sure my buddy would get to enjoy a deep run into the playoffs this year.

These are the kind of emotional letdowns that I didn't suffer as a sportswriter. I covered games and certainly for the sake of the story I was writing there were times I wanted the team I was covering to win (it's always more fun to write a "team wins championship'' story than a "team blows championship'' story). The standing joke among beat writers is that during the NCAA Tournament, all sportswriters become fans of the team they are covering because we all wanted to go as far into the tournament as we could.
People accused me of being 'for' one team - like Alabama, the team I was assigned as the beat writer for 15 years - but the truth is, while I became close to individuals who played or coaches and worked at Alabama, I was never a fan of "Alabama."
As Jerry Seinfeld so aptly put it, fans are really fans of laundry. Tide fans, for example, love the uniform and, truthfully, whoever is wearing the uniform matters to them only because they are wearing the right laundry. Players and coaches come and go, but the laundry remains. ("Tide fans love laundry" - I had to laugh at that one).
The essence of being a fan means you come to support laundry. If you don't like that, you can say fans support the team, the school, the program, and that's appropriate. You are a fan of the team that represents your city or state or country (in the case of the Olympics or World Cup or international competition). Or maybe, as a kid, you just 'decide' you like a team for whatever reason. When I was a kid, I loved the Green Bay Packers, a fandom that started before Atlanta got the Falcons; I have a brother-in-law who did not grow up in Minnesota and as far as I know has never even been to Minnesota, but long ago he decided he was a Vikings fan.
But really, we're cheering for laundry, or colors, or an idea. Not people.

As a sportswriter, I found myself pulling for people, and that loyalty transferred as players and coaches and administrators moved on. It's one reason I like Clemson now - I've known and liked Dabo Swinney since he was a walk-on at Alabama way back in the day. It's a reason I hope Akron does well, because I've always enjoyed being around the Bowden family and I'm happy to see Terry Bowden back at the Division I level.

But now that I'm not in the business anymore, I find myself going back to being a fan - Georgia, the Braves, the Falcons, and, yes, Alabama because a lot of my personal history is tied up in that school (although I like Auburn, too, for the same reason; people forget I was an Auburn beat writer before I moved to cover that school in Tuscaloosa, and still enjoy a good relationship with Pat Dye and Terry Bowden and even Tommy Tuberville. When MG and I were dating, I was covering Auburn and she went with me to so many games, sitting in the stands while I sat in the press box. Auburn fans in those sections were incredibly nice and 'adopted' her, looking out for her while I worked. So Auburn remains special to me).

And being a fan is tough. I'd forgotten how tough until this weekend.

But ... How 'bout them Falcons?

Yes, I watched the debate; but why?

I  watched the first debate Wednesday night, between President Obama and Mitt Romney.

If you read this blog before "the accident,'' you know that normally I love these debates. I love the exchange of ideas. I love to hear how these people think. I think it is important to hear the people who want to lead us, to lead our country, and try to figure out how they'll do.

But this one was different. I honestly don't think it matters. I fear most of us have already made up our minds. As I posted on Facebook, I have this feeling like it's all been decided ... that 47 percent (to use Romney's phrase) know they are voting for the President, 47 percent know they are not, and so it all comes down to the "missing" 6 percent who - I'm afraid - won't even be watching the debate!

And nothing that I've seen on the post-debate analysis tells me otherwise. I hear the Republicans talking about how their guy romped with the greatest debate performance in 50 years; I hear the Democrats saying the Republican lied even as they lament that the President didn't do a very good job ("altitude" got him, according to Al Gore).

But all the self-congratulation on one side and the grumbling on the other seems to me to lack serious discussion and only add to the noise that already divides this country so deeply.

Jobless numbers came out. Unemployment went down. The President will argue that's progress. Romney will argue that the number doesn't reflect those who are underemployed (people working part-time jobs who can't get full time employment) and those who have given up looking (both groups, to me, have to be counted - particularly the underemployed who seem ast least to be trying to stay off unemployment).

Perhaps I'm cynical, but as someone once said, there are "lies, there are damn lies, and then there are statistics." I have a sports background, so I know baseball players in particular - because no other sport uses statistics like baseball does - who go in to argue for a raise with their set of statistics, only to be told why they don't deserve a raise based on another set of equally impressive statistics. Statistics can say what you want them to say ... or rather, they will say whatever the person paying for them wants them to say.

Meanwhile, has the bias of the so-called "news" channels ever been more obvious?

If you had any doubt that MSNBC (whose motto "Lean Forward" sounds an awful lot like Chairman Mao's 1958 "Great Leap Forward") is doing all it can to support President Obama, that doubt had to be removed in the aftermath of the first debate. Chris Matthews  literally begged the President to watch his network because - according to Matthews - the hosts on MSNBC have been shooting down Republican positions and Mitt Romney for months. Matthews said they'd been delivering the President his talking points every night, and was literally begging the President to pay attention. Clearly the folks at MSNBC believe they've already provided everything the President needs to win this election and are frustrated that the President won't follow their advice.

Not that Fox News was much better. The Fox folks aren't quite as apoplectic; they don't appear to be about to have seizures and spit all over themselves when they talk about the other side the way the folks at MSNBC do, but they too made no bones about their belief that they have been carrying the flag for Romney and if Romney would just listen to them, he'd win.

And CNN ... well, nobody apparently watches CNN, judging by that network's ratings. I did, simply because I get this sense that CNN has made a business decision to try - as hard as it is for them to honestly try  - to offer some conservative viewpoints without sounding condescending in doing so. Maybe it's just me (and it probably is) but I get the sense the folks at CNN have been told to reign it in because the ratings are terrible and  if they're going to keep their  jobs they need to offer some of whatever it is that keeps Fox's ratings so remarkably high (this is television, after all, which means entertainment. If you don't think ratings don't matter when it comes even to news, ask Katie Couric, or Connie Chung, or any number of network anchors who have come and gone in an attempt to get a majority of the American people to trust them).

Ah, but there is value to all of it. I make myself watch a little of all three "major" cable news networks even though I think Sean Hannity is the right-wing version of Chris Matthews, and Greta grates on my nerves as much as Rachel Maddow.
I watch, because somewhere in the midst of all this propaganda there has to be some truth, some sense to be made out of what is going on.

On the other hand, I listen to young people and realize they're getting their news from Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert on The Comedy Channel. Somehow, the Comedy Channel has become the most trusted name in news for folks under 30.

But it's not really that different than the late 1800s-early 1900s, when every city had multiple newspapers, and they competed was by taking extremely different positions to try to appeal to the most people. I have a feeling William Randolph Hurst or Joseph Pulitzer would feel right at home owning CNN or MSNBC or Fox News, that their editors could step right into a modern TV news room and feel right at home (once they adjusted to technology).
Sometimes we forget the term "Yellow Journalism," which means "a type of journalism that presents little or no legitimate well-researched news and instead uses eye-catching headlines to sell more newspapers. Techniques may include exaggerations of news events, scandal-mongering, or sensationalism," or "biased opinion masquerading as objective fact. Moreover, the practice of yellow journalism involved sensationalism, distorted stories, and misleading images for the sole purpose of boosting newspaper sales and exciting public opinion."
Change out "newspaper sales" for "television ratings" and you have too much of what passes for journalism today, too.

And don't even get me started on polls. All the polls do is create an expectation so that, should the candidate who is behind in the polls win, the people who support the loser have grounds  to claim voter fraud because there is no way the polls could say one thing the day before the election and the election turn out so differently. Some thing must be illegal - hanging chads or voter intimidation or fraudulant voting taking place.
I've even heard that the company that will count the  votes is a Spanish company that is owned by George Soros! (I always believed votes were boxed up and taken to a vote counting facility in each district, usually a government office, where they are counted by machine or by hand under the watchful eye of a representative from all parties involved. Sure, there was corruption ... but it was good old fashioned American corruption - like losing a box or two of ballots, or producing an extra box or two at the last minute that no one "knew" about).

Still, I will vote. And I admit I'm not crazy about either major candidate. I admit I'll be voting against someone rather than for someone, and that isn't the way it should be.

Which means I'm one of those people who watch the debates with a 99 percent certainty of who I will vote for.

Why? I guess because I'm hopeful that one or both of these guys will be struck with some unusually solid common sense and maybe, just maybe, make me change my mind.

Tired of the sensitive stuff; looking for the scar

I appreciate those of you who have been kind enough to ask me about my blog, but I just have nothing worthwhile to say (not that I did before).

For what it's worth, I'm reading a lot, and I get inspired. But when I turn the laptop on and get in this  space, I just go blank.

Some of you - maybe many of you - come here to see updates on MG. I don't know that I can do that because of where things are right now. It's difficult, but it's not really different. We knew this would be a long, long process ... and it has been all that and more. We are trying to determine what "normal" is, and pray that it's not this, that there is something else coming.

I will say something, however, that struck me as I was thinking about this stuff.

There is this one particular incision on MG, from one of her surgeries. They didn't close the wound because they said it needed to heal from the inside out. Apparently - and I'm not a doctor and wouldn't even begin to play one - the sensitive, connective  tissue inside had to grow back and reconnect before it could be covered by the outer, tougher, protective layer of skin.
And then comes the scar.
The scar usually is a sign that we're healed, that we no longer hurt, but it's a reminder of what happened.

I think that's the way it is for many of us, too. We want the tough, protecting covering when what we need is to have the sensitive, connective tissue grow back first.

I want the tough protective covering; I want the scar. I'm tired of the sensitive stuff.

But I have this feeling that for proper healing to take place, this is what has to happen and to try to jump over one step will only cause me problems down the road.

Which sounds like so much psycho babble ....

The other thing that occurred to me was how many people are involved in MG's recovery. Teams of people - doctors, nurses, physical therapists, family, friends.

And it seems to me we make a mistake when we try to heal on our own. 

We have family. We have friends. We have professionals - pastors, counselors, doctors. 

As much as I like my solitude, as much as I like to live inside my head, as much as I think I should be tough and responsible for myself, that's not the way God  created us to be.

I am reading Genesis (again). God said "it's not good for man to be alone." He said that even though He and Adam apparently communed regularly. Adam had God all to himself, and yet God still said "I am not enough; Adam needs someone else." And God provided that someone else.

Because in the end, God knows our needs, and He is enough in the sense that He provides for those needs.

I hope that makes sense. It seemed terribly profound to me at the time.

And  I hope the words start coming again, for my sake.

So who moved this time?

Haven't blogged in awhile; maybe this is why ...

I was driving down I-10 the other day and came up on a bumper sticker that said, "If you don't feel close to God, guess who moved!"
The implication, of course, is that God never changes so it must be me. If I don't feel close to God, it must be my fault.
Which is true ... but not all the time.

King Saul felt God's absence, and for good reason: God had left him. But still I can't help but feel some empathy for Saul as he vainly tried to connect with God again. He tried to pray but got nothing. He sent for the preachers to see if they had a message for him from God, but they didn't. He tried to sleep in hope that God would speak to him in a dream but tossed and turned all night. Finally, he was so desperate he sought out a witch. God had departed from Saul, but it's amazing to see how deeply Saul felt that absence.

But it can't always be the God has left us. Job certainly felt the absence of God's presence. He even went so far as to say (in my very loose paraphrase), "I know I'm righteous God, but what about You? If you were a man, I'd sue you and there's not a judge or jury who wouldn't convict You!"
We attribute most of the Psalms to David, and we talk about David as a "man after God's own heart." Yet the Psalms are full of a righteous man crying out to know why God is silent, why God seems to have removed His presence, turned His back, hidden His face. It's in the Psalms that we hear the cry "My God, why have you forsaken me?" Surely some of the times the person crying that had not "moved."
Of course we know that phrase best from the cross, where Jesus cried out when He felt abandoned by God. Surely we wouldn't say to Jesus, "if you don't feel close to God, it must be you who moved away!"

Sometimes I know I increase my distance from God. But sometimes I can't help but wonder if God doesn't move a little further away from me.
Or at least it feels that way.
I think about my experience this summer with MG. The accident left her helpless. And I hated it for her. As she started the road to recovery, I wanted to make that road as smooth as possible. If she was in pain, I would encourage her to take another pain pill and to heck with the recommended dosage. If she tried to sit up, I'd gently grab both her legs so they'd move together, putting as little strain on her recovering hips as possible. When she needed to dress, I'd gladly hold her clothes and put them over her. I'd dropped down and carefully put on her shoes for her. I was there for her!
Fortunately for MG, I wasn't there all the time. When I wasn't, SaraBeth was. And SaraBeth was wiser and, to be honest, more caring for MG. When SaraBeth was there and her mom wanted to sit up, SaraBeth would watch and encourage, telling MG how well she was doing. If MG needed to get dressed, SaraBeth would bring her mother's clothes to her, and then let her Mom begin the process of putting them on herself. Same thing with the shoes. Oh, sometimes SaraBeth would reach in and help when MG was tangled or frustrated; sometimes it was as simple as putting MG's hand in the right place, or untangling a T-shirt. I don't mean to say SaraBeth didn't do anything for her mother; she did. But as MG improved, SaraBeth would encourage her mother to do these things; she became both her mother's biggest cheerleader and best source of strength, because she helped MG know MG was strong enough to do what she needed to do.
SaraBeth was there for her mother, just as I was. But there was a difference.
At times with SaraBeth, it had to feel to MG as if SaraBeth wasn't there, that MG was on her own.
MG wasn't alone of course, and realistically she knew SaraBeth was right there. But when it came to doing those simple tasks that I would rush to do for MG, SaraBeth didn't do until it was obvious MG couldn't do them herself.
Maybe that's like God. I know there are times when I feel distant from God. Now, I know God has promised to never leave and never forsake us, and I cling to that promise - especially when I feel like God has indeed forsaken me.
Does God move? Or do we just experience God as being absent?
Either way, how do we deal with that?

As I read back through this, I don't want to be misunderstood. I'm not saying "God helps those who help themselves" or suggests that sometimes God tells us it is time for us to do it on our own.
But I wonder if God doesn't at times say, "OK, I've prepared you for this. I've given you all the tools to deal with what's coming. I'm still here, right beside you, but you need to deal with this from a position of faith, believing that I'm nearby even when I'm silent, confident that I'm with you even when you don't feel me."

Maybe that's it. Our relationship with God is a real relationship, in that just like with our parents or our loved ones or our friends, we make memories. And those memories carry us when we're distant from each other.
I remember the times I felt God's presence. I remember the times I could swear I heard His voice. I remember that feeling I got that time singing "Holy Holy Holy" or when  I held the cup at communion and was struck at what it represented or the time I held my child in my arms and sang "Praise God from whom all blessing flow ..." as if it were a lullaby.
We remember.
And sure enough, sooner than we realize, we feel His presence again.

My "real" resume: part-time jobs that made me

Earlier this summer, when the kids were looking for what they were going to do and we were trying to get them "meaningful" internships that would help their resumes, one of them asked me what kind of jobs I had.
And that started me thinking.
I grew up in a different time, of course; a time when high school and college kids could get part-time and summer jobs because it was expected and employers actually counted on them. And when I think back, boy did I ever have some.

I write this for two reasons:
1) this is my blog and I can write whatever the heck I want, and
2) it is a way to communicate with my kids, and
3) maybe it sparks your own conversation about your jobs. Let's face it, it's pretty funny to look back at some of our early jobs, the things we did to make money while in school.

Looking back, I remember the "dream'' job when I was in high school was Fed Ex, which paid a then-princely sum of something like $3.25 an hour, when the minimum wage (which most of us got) was closer to $2.50 an hour (I can't remember exactly, but that's close). I never got that job.
I had a friend who worked at a movie theatre, a job a lot of us envied because he got to see all the movies for free. He was so enamored with one movie that he taped it for us all to hear ... that's right, "hear." This was well before the days of video taping of any kind, so my friend did an audio tape, which was absolutely as bad as it sounds. However, he thought he'd pulled off a fast one on the theatre (and I dutifully listened to the entire thing, while my buddy described the scenes in between actual dialogue).

Another embarrassing high school work-related story: a bunch of us went to apply for jobs at Six Flags Over Georgia. I'm not going to mention names, but we were sitting in the employment office, filling out the paper work, when one of my best friends said, "What kind of question is this: does my spouse work? It worked fine last night!"
I'm still not sure if he was being funny or being serious. Sad but true.
Needless to say, I didn't run with the brightest crowd.
But we had a lot of fun.

There was also the year we agreed to grow our hair long. This was the tail end of the Age of Aquarius, after all, and an act of some rebellion. However, one of the men of our church owned a car dealership and offered good jobs IF we cut our hair. Being a man of principle, I refused (I was 16, and at 16 this was a matter of principle). The other two went to the barber and got jobs.

Anyway, a sample of my early summer and part-time jobs:

Fabric warehouse: I think this was my first kind of 'real' summer job. I worked in the warehouse of a fabric warehouse, primarily boxing up rolls of fabric for shipping but sometimes getting to run the shrink-wrap machine. My boss could cowboy yodel. The company was not doing well, and every payday it seemed like we got our checks later and later, apparently to keep us from running to the bank to cash them that day. Long-time employees used to start looking for the most expensive fabric rolls they would take if they didn't get paid. However, we never missed a paycheck while I was there.

Auto auction driver: When someone bought a bunch of old cars to sell at auction, we'd get paid $10 a car to go drive them back to the auction. I learned to drive a lot of different style cars, and none were anywhere close to being new. The most fun? When we'd get to drive back old State Trooper cars that had been stripped of all the decals but still had the Police Interceptor carburetors on them. From 0-60 it was normal, but 60-to-120 was incredibly fast (as I found out quite by accident when I pulled out to pass a car in I-75, heading south from up around Rome, Ga., and floored it).

Building concrete sidewalks, curbs, and gutters: I was with this crew that was part of a company building huge industrial warehouse complexes outside of Atlanta. This job was hot, but fun. The cast of characters I worked with over this summer could fill a blog, including a member of a motorcycle gang who was working to get his bike repaired and told me "There are two books you should read: The Bible, and the Count of Monte Cristo. Both are incredibly long, but when you're finished both make a great point." I've read both. I don't count them as equal.

Reservations for Days Inn: I worked one Christmas at the Days Inn reservation center in Atlanta. A bunch of us sat in this room, answering phone calls from all over the country (this was obviously before out-sourcing to India!) While we were supposed to just book rooms for people, we also wound up planning trips for callers (helping determine a days' worth of driving to the next Days Inn), and even where the ice machines were located in their motels (some people thought they were calling the front desk, I guess). Best thing that happened: we got Christmas turkeys for a bonus! My mom was thrilled.

Coaching middle school football and basketball: In college, I coached football and basketball for 3rd and 7th graders. I was assigned to local elementary-middle schools, and we played other local schools. We were quite good, winning two championships. I was the only coach, and had to develop my playbook based on things I'd done in high school or learned from watching/reading about sports. One play I came up with I later suggested to a college coach that I knew - a tight end reverse that I designed (although I'm sure it had been done before) - and, sure enough, this guy adapted it and used it (but never gave me credit, at least not publicly).

Construction on a high rise: I was a "common laborer" who was expected to join the Common Laborer Union for this job. No one quite knew what to do with me. I wasn't allowed to do much other than be a grunt. Best part of the job was that the forms for each floor were built on the ground, then taken by crane to the next level of the building and put in place. I got to ride the floor forms from ground to building, and the higher the building got the more fun it was. The crane operator was crazy (several good stories about this guy), and he liked to see if he could get away with swinging me out wider each time as he brought the floor up and around to settle down on the building. I don't think this practice was actually to code, but what the heck .... it was fun.

Sportswriter: I did do a legitimate internship at a daily newspaper, in the sports department. I'd been the sports editor at the college paper for a year (and was not very good), but it led me to a big-time daily paper, where I fell in love with the business that I eventually did for over half my life. These were old-time sportswriters, and some of them would go to a nearby strip club during dinner break (it was a morning paper, so we worked nights). That left me to answer phones and handle the office until they got back .... also, the copy desk guys played a mean game of Jeopardy! when things slowed down. We all knew a lot about a little, and those Jeopardy! games were amazing.

Billboard company: I worked for an Outdoor Advertising company that owned billboards throughout rural Georgia. My primary job was to go out and cut the grass/bushes/trees that threatened to grow up and block the view of the billboards, but I also watched true artists who could "long-handle" old-style paper billboards. It would take too long to explain, but these guys were amazing. I also learned about double-selling side-by-side billboards (illegal, but apparently not uncommon) and this is the job where I learned first-hand that you can't cut trees on a Department of Transportation Right of Way. There I was, chain saw in hand, cutting trees on the side of a highway that were blocking the view of a billboard, when the state troopers pulled up and put me in the back of their car, taking me back to work where my boss said I knew better (I didn't; they only told me to cut down the trees) and it wouldn't happen again (technically it didn't, but these guys were creative and came up with a new scheme that was probably just as illegal, so I won't go into it because I don't know what the statute of limitations are on this kind of activity).

Church Youth Director: I was horrible. I completely let this church and the youth of this church down. This remains, to this day, one of those regrets that wakes me up in the middle of the night with tremendous guilt.

Door to door salesman: I don't know what else to call this. This business bought the end of the line products that were not going to be made again - silverware, glasses, frying pains, clock, lamps - and then sent guys like myself out with our cars loaded down. We could sell them for whatever we wanted, and got to keep everything over the base price that the company needed. I couldn't do the door-to-door thing, so I went around to small stores in the country to see if they would just buy my entire supply and stock their shelves (they didn't). I found the key was to go to factories on Friday (payday) and sit in the parking lot with my wares on display. Factory workers on payday were extremely loose with their money, and I sold my entire volume on Fridays when I learned this trick. Unfortunately, I also felt really guilt - these people weren't making enough money to be wasting it on the junk I was selling (and it was junk). I quit after about two months and swore I'd never do sales again.

Doorman/bouncer: This was much later, but my future brother-in-law managed some clubs around Birmingham's Five Points. I worked the door in one of them, which really meant checking I.D.s and keeping underage kids out. I did get to break up a couple of fight, and fortunately this was during my  karate days and my instructor, Shihan Oyama, had given me a couple very valuable and common sense tips for breaking up a fight, based on some of his own experiences. Highlight: when the police called me outside to tell me there was a guy inside in a long rain coat who had several shotguns and handguns underneath his coat. They didn't want to go in and get him for fear he would start shooting, so they asked if I could talk the guy into going outside where they could grab him. I'd  like to say I hustled the guy out, but I didn't really; I did start up a conversation with him, and I think I just bothered him into leaving, where the police were waiting.

There are more that I'm forgetting. I think from the time I turned 16, I always worked. I never worked fast food or restaurants or retail. I can't even say there was a plan; I just stumbled into jobs, through friends or classifieds or dumb luck.
Years later, I realized I should have been more focused and been building a true resume that could help me, but I did what I did. But there are a lot of good stories from each, I made some good friends for a short time, and I always had fun.
I think that's been the one constant: every job except the sales job that I've had, I've enjoyed.
And that's fortunate.