Parents, It's right in front of you. On our honeymoon, my new bride and I stepped off the airplane in Maui to paradise and an almost charismatic, “snorkeling boat tour to Molokini,” hawking barker who was gifted at getting the attention of unsuspecting jet lagged mainlanders. It sounded exciting to go to the mostly submerged cone of a volcano and snorkel in the crystal clear waters. My new “wife for life” graciously agreed to take one of our precious days in Hawaii to get up and get on this boat. The nearly charming (probably a former snake oil) professional, sweetened the deal saying a buffet would be served too! How could this get any better I wondered. So, the next day we got up anticipating our romantic snorkeling half day trip. We imagined blue skies and calm seas and a beautiful boat with pretty people just like the picture on the front of the brochure had promised. We arrived at the dock, with gray skies, rough seas, an old rusting large boat and nice, but somewhat unglamorous fellow shipmates, who had also been drawn in by the airport snorkel hawker. We even saw an old fraternity brother of mine… (happy honeymoon baby!) He was kind and gracious and was friendly, but gave us our space. As we began our short “3 hour tour… the weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed,” Undeterred I was still eager to “snorkel the famous Molokini crater.” My sweet young bride, however, began to get seasick. The waves, the nauseating smell of half-burned diesel, a half-cleaned head (read - “boat bathroom”), others tossing their cookies, and the promised barbeque with grease dripping off it...and she was done… the ship steward recommended she go below, so the tossing of the ship was lessened, but the smells were even worse below. It was miserable, there was no escaping the nausea and there was no turning back until the tour was over. She graciously told me she would try getting in the water. The snorkeling was horrible, the seas had churned up the water and visibility was terrible, eventually the captain recommended that the snorkelers board the bobbing cork of a boat and we return to Maui… a cheer went up from all. When we got to land, we were too sick to demand a refund, and the best they would do was give us a discount on our next trip with them!!! What? So, we went back to the condo and rested with our pressure point wristbands and motion sickness bags. The next few days we relaxed and biked, toured, enjoyed the pool, beach and rode mopeds around on the beautiful island. After overcoming our initial snorkeling experience we decided to try snorkeling the area just in front of our condo. Wow! It was so beautiful, all kinds of beautiful coral and fish and shellfish, everything that had been promised on the other tour. We even saw a sea snake which, I reluctantly later told my wife, was very poisonous. The area was so beautiful and so much fun I didn’t want to stop exploring this underwater paradise. The whole time this gorgeous Black Rock was right there not too far from where we stayed, no boat necessary.
Monday, February 22, 2021
Parents, It's Right In Front of You!* Words from COVID 19 quarantine
Saturday, February 20, 2021
Parents, You've Got Peace Like A River!** Words From COVID 19 quarantine
Parents, you’ve got peace like a river. As a boy, I was drawn to any kind of water: swimming pools, creeks, mud puddles, oceans, ponds, lakes, waterfalls and rivers. We even had a small waterfall in the entryway of our house, which looked out to the lake from a large bank of windows. When I wasn’t swimming, skiing, canoeing, cliff or bridge jumping, boating, houseboating, or fishing in the water, I was usually asleep… maybe a bit of exaggeration, but I spent a lot of time in and around the abundant waters of East Tennessee and the Southeast. Even in winter, I was content to be at swim practice in an indoor pool, walking near the river, or snow skiing on frozen water. My favorite teen jobs were lifeguarding at local pools, and teaching kids to waterski. There were times when I spent the day with dozens of teens on our houseboat for a church youth group ski day and times when I was fishing quietly in solitude in an isolated lake cove. There is just something about how two Hydrogen atoms connect to an Oxygen atom by the bazillions that not only sustained my life, but made it joyful, peaceful and at times exhilarating. Once, as an adult, I had taken a group of students on a rafting trip on the Ocoee River. It was thrilling. There was one particular part of the trip that the guide said we could check the security of our life jackets and jump in if we wanted. The water was cool and calming, like a lazy river ride at a waterpark, only real and better. As I floated motionless for a couple of minutes, it was probably one of the most peaceful times I can remember in my life. As I floated on my back, my ears went under water, sounds were muted. I stared up into the blue sky until I closed my eyes. I could have stayed there all day bobbing, floating in that bliss, suspended between the rocky, bumpy bottom of the beautiful river and the cares, challenges, pains, and the seemingly endless responsibilities of life that awaited me at the end of the raft ride. The guide instructed us to get back into the raft quickly, because the upcoming rapids would be challenging and he assured us the class 4’s would be much more challenging if we were outside the raft.
Tuesday, January 12, 2021
Parents, My Peace I Give To You!*Words from COVID 19 quarantine
Parents, My peace I give to you. When I was growing up near a college campus during the hippy years, many times people wearing hippy cool tie-dyed clothes would hold up two fingers and say “peace man!” Peace signs were drawn on street signs and notebook covers. People carried signs saying, “Peace Now!” Many were in psychedelic colors and designs influenced by the culture of the time. Some peace symbols were superimposed on yellow happy faces. What I knew of peace at that time was playing quietly with a Hot Wheels car, sitting on the hardwood floor with a full tummy, clothes on my body, and not a care in the world. Sunshine streamed in the window with a warm beam that danced when the shadows of the leaves of the large oaks that surrounded my childhood home blew in the early Summer breeze. I was embraced by the warmth of the Sun and the hardwood floor that accepted, then radiated the solar heat like being swaddled in a blanket right out of the dryer. There was a feeling of undisturbed security and safety from whatever dangers were “out there.” Some nights though, I struggled to sleep peacefully and frequently "sleep walked". Once, I went all the way to the car, locked all the doors, ready for a ride to somewhere. My parents, who happened to still be awake, had followed me outside to see where I would go. When my ride was apparently over, I climbed out of the car and went back to my bed. Many mornings I would wake up on a cold couch in the basement rather than the bed I had been tucked into the night before. But on warm, sunshiny, East Tennessee days, I felt it… peace. This peace was temporary though, it was challenged by the circumstances I saw on a black and white TV, the goings on in the world in the 1960’s and 70’s with assassinations, political and racial unrest, Viet Nam, Watergate and the oil crisis… Some days, I was drawn to the television when a North Carolina, Southern speaking preacher named Billy Graham would be broadcast from an evangelistic crusade somewhere. (I even watched a broadcast from my hometown of Knoxville in 1970, in our beloved Neyland Stadium, though apparently Richard Nixon tried to hijack the event for political gain after agreeing to say nothing political)… I sometimes sat and watched the broadcast by myself. There was always a peace that came in Graham’s urging to follow Jesus Christ. He talked about God’s love for us and God’s desire for us to connect our lives with Him. “Just As I Am” would be sung, led by George Beverly Shea and cameras captured thousands of people responding to the Gospel of Peace, the Good News of Jesus Christ. I often responded right then and there in my own house, praying as I watched the television. A sense of love and peace would overwhelm me like the sunshine that streamed into my window, but it embraced me and warmed me deeper than the Sun ever could. That peace, that shalom, remains when I remember that I belong to Jesus, that I am His and He is the Prince of Peace regardless of the unpeaceful things going on around me. Years later, as a pastor in Nashville in 2000, I had the privilege of taking my family and congregation to the Billy Graham crusade to hear Him in person. Once again, thousands responded to God’s Gospel of Peace including my daughter. We were all reminded of that peace on 9/11 the next year.
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
Parents, We're All In This Together! Words From COVID-19 quarantine
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
Parents, How Do You Treat Weakness!** Words From COVID 19 quarantine.
Parents, how do you treat weakness, in others? Enjoy the photo. Don’t know what my Mom was thinking dressing me like this, I think it came with a permanent placard on the back with the words “kick me” with a smiley face. I wasn’t a Trekky, however I was a regular watcher of Lost In Space, the cheesy mid-1960’s SciFi TV series. It was set in the year 1997, haha! The evil Dr. Smith was the cowardly villain, who was the reason they were actually “lost in space.” Smith, the unintentional stowaway, who was trapped with the victims whose mission he had intended to destroy, was constantly trying to save his own skin at the expense and danger of the Robinson family, “the first family in space.” The Robinson family always forgave the perpetual antagonist. The son, Will Robinson, actually liked and trusted Smith, though Smith’s actions never proved worthy of anyone’s admiration or trust. Crew members, The Robot and Major Don West, never trusted Smith, but tolerated him in deference to the Robinson's grace toward him. The Robot often warned “Danger Will Robinson,” as he flailed his dryer hose arms with hooked-pincher-hands when Dr. Smith was leading him into hazardous situations. As I see it, we all have a choice, we can exploit the weaknesses of others like Dr. Smith, trying to somehow gain the upper hand, taking advantage of those around us, or we can believe the best about others, being gentle with their weakness, giving them the benefit of the doubt. I prefer a story like the Grinch, in which the good-hearted Whos of Whoville, changed the character of the oft abused and then abusive Grinch. His heart grew three sizes in one day. But Dr. Smith, unlike the Grinch, seemed to never change, always manipulating the situation to his benefit and preying upon the presumed weaknesses of his ship-wrecked colleagues. The good news is he couldn’t change the goodness of the Robinsons either, they always chose to believe Smith was doing the best he could do and chose to give grace.
Wednesday, December 2, 2020
Parents, It's A Snow Day 2!* Words from COVID 19 quarantine
Parents, It’s a snow day 2. On the occasion that East Tennessee had a snow cancellations that lasted more than one day, the neighborhood kids escalated the creativity, competition, and often danger in how they enjoyed the sledding opportunities. One year I joined some friends on a new street in “the Hills” that was paved but had no houses yet. It was perfect for downhill sledding with little chance of cars coming. The fun and adventure was accelerated when the downhill runs became all out races. Friendly races became competitive races among friends, as is sometimes the case with eager-to-prove-themselves-and-fearful-of-not-fitting-in adolescent boys. I watched the first race, and laughed with nervous excitement as I saw all the competitors grapple and wrestle each other all the way down while still on their sleds. It was like the winter middle school version of Ben Hur’s chariot race (you youngsters can Google it; it was a classic before my time too), though it usually ended up in a spectacular crash and a laugh-talking rehash with color commentary about the whole race top to bottom. Occasionally there was someone who managed to make it down unchallenged, but usually only one race as they became the target of everyone the next time down with the words “get him!”. It was like Rollerball on ice (Rollerball a dystopian Sci/Fi Action film released in 1975, set in the year 2018, in which large corporations, not countries, actually ruled the world… interesting concept isn’t it?). It was like a funner more humane Hunger Games, where the winner gets bragging rights and maybe the validating attention of some neighborhood girls. As I jumped in on the next race, I was quickly tackled, coated in snow, and was unable to finish. The next few times down, I discovered that if I grabbed the back of someone’s sled and gave it a yank, gravity and centripetal forces did all the work and their sled would swerve off and hit the curb or better yet take out other competitors, and sometimes it would even flip the sled causing riders and sleds to snowball down the hill in an avalanche with attached human appendages sticking out. It was like a Law Enforcement PIT maneuver (Police Intervention Technique), when the officer uses the front of his vehicle to tap the rear side panel of the fleeing vehicle, causing them to lose control and the officer can apprehend a fleeing suspect. PAT worked to my advantage, winning a few Alpine ice war competitions, until others caught on to my game, then I was frequently the one rolling down the hill in an uncontrolled burrito spin, laughing and recounting the details of the spectacular snow spraying crash to anyone who would listen on the walk back up. Once I was flipped and the metal runner hit me, cutting my face, just below my eye leaving a patch of red snow at the scene of the incident. I applied direct pressure, as our health teacher had instructed us, with snow and a glove and began the long walk, dragging a sled back home. The intensity always seemed to escalate, but we were back together the next day, having fun. The games continued sans the snow with BB gun wars (“you’ll put your eye out”)… yeah, not the smartest of games, but we managed to escalate that too, to air rifles! Great times in the Hills of Lakemoor!
Tuesday, December 1, 2020
Parents, It's A Snow Day!* Words from COVID 19 quarantine
Parents, it’s a snow day! As December 2020 arrives wrapped in a blanket of snow, I’m reminded of snow adventures of my youth. As a kid, I lived in Lakemoor Hills. In the summer we loved the “Lake” part of the neighborhood for fishing and the escape to the aesthetic beauty of the water that could wash over you like a warm healing anointing of peace. In the fall the "moor, (defined as "uncultivated upland" by the Oxford Dictionary) we loved the brilliant leaf colors and the crunch of leaves under our feet. In the winter, on the somewhat rare Southern-climated occasion that it snowed, it was the “Hills” part of the neighborhood that we loved. When it snowed overnight, we got up and watched the TV and listened for the magic words “school closed.” Exuberant shouts of joy went up to the heavens as we put on our long-johns, jeans, boots, coat, gloves and hats ready for a day of sledding and building snow people. My sister, the artist, once sculpted Mt. Rushmore at the foot of our long sloping yard. She rolled 4 giant snowballs from the top and then made Washington, Lincoln, Roosevelt, and Jefferson for the neighbors to enjoy. I was always ready to find the best sledding hill where all the kids were. Because Lakemoor Hills had lots of trees, the best sledding was on the roads and because we were in the South and there were no snow plows. Most people just stayed home, leaving the streets open for early adolescent sledding chaos. One street called Timberlake Drive was a great sloping curvy hill, but it was a little narrow for kids sledding down and walking back up for the next long ride back down. My sister happened to be finished with whatever snow sculpture she was doing that day and was ready to join the sledding fun. The challenge was we only had two sleds, my dad’s boyhood, old faithful, an old fashioned, wooden, metal railed, steerable sled, and the other a round disc (think Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation). For a ride downhill on a curvy road, only a steerable sled would do. We tried towing the round disc behind the steerable, but it never worked. So, we both sat on the steerable sled and headed down the hill. As we picked up speed and began navigating the blind curve, steering the sled with my feet, we rounded the turn to see a classmate trying to protect everyone by standing in the middle of the road, waving his arms wildly, yelling, “a Jeep is coming up the hill.” The problem was there were only three options for the dozen or so kids flying down the hill like Susie Chapstick in the Olympic Giant Slalom: 1. Stay on the road and hit the classmate and possibly hit the uphill bound Jeep head on, 2. go left and fly off the side of the road and down a steep ravine including unavoidable impact with one of the many trees, or 3. crash into the car, abandoned because of the treacherously slick conditions on the right side in the ditch, against the embankment. Because of where we were in the pack of snow crazed sled riders, our choice was made for us… crash into the ditched car! The bumper hit me at about 20 MPH, right in the chest, our legs and the sled continued their downhill trajectory and we were wedged like a doorstop under the Olds 98. Other kids were flying off the side of the embankment grabbing trees, letting sleds crash below, and my classmate was dodging everyone he could, but finally, he was taken out at the shins by a shiny new Radio Flyer and a wide eyed, tobogganed, tobogganer! Fortunately, no one was hit by the Jeep... My sister and I struggled to free ourselves like two grease monkeys on a creeper (the little wheeled sled that is intended to take mechanics under a car) squeezed under the heavy metal of the late 1960’s era muscle sedan like mice in a trap, which would have been worse had the sled not impacted the tire and prevented us from being stuck further under the overpowered Sunday cruiser. We managed to get down the hill to a wonderful neighbor at the bottom. She was the snow Mom in the ‘hood who always took care of our gang on snow days. She would fix something Hot Chocolate and Cider, have enough snacks to fill up several snow-hungry preteens, have a fire going and she would put jackets, jeans, socks and gloves into the dryer until all of us were rewarmed. Before long, the long-john clad, snow warriors were ready to suit up and go out again for more snow adventures.