Why Do I Do This?

That's it. That's the question. Why do I do any of it? Why do I walk? Why do I write this blog? Why do I even bother to get out of bed? These are the age old questions that inquiring minds like to ponder. As I was walking I actually gave considerable time and energy to answering those questions...and you being a person who likes to read the "Star" or the "Enquirer" would probably like an answer...no...you deserve an answer!

1. Why do I get out of bed? Well I wish I could say it was because I am so dedicated to life and living that I burst out of bed ready to throw my hat in the air (Mary Tyler Moore reference) and take on the world. But in reality, I gotta pee, my back is sore from laying in bed, and I'm tossing around feeling guilty for still being in bed. Once I'm up, I'm up. There is no going back to bed for me. So I have one of a couple options. I can sit on the couch, grab my laptop, and tune in to the daily soap called Facebook to see what everyone else is doing (usually some kind of exercise). Or I can go walking.

2. Why do I walk? See number 1. Well that and I need to get some exercise. I mean come on...I have got to do something. I mean my ideal weight is right around 600 pounds. That is where I would probably feel most content and happy. I mean when your that heavy, no one expects you to try and look slim. All the pretenses are over. But when your in the 200's, you are stuck between really being a super weight and being a fashion icon. Your too heavy to actually wear J. Crew, and yet to thin to actually go to the Big and Tall store. And the difficult part is...especially if you are big boned like I am...in order to really be slim...it takes sooooooo muuuuuch work. So we are relegated to wearing our shirts un-tucked and of course we always wear vertical stripes. So I walk to keep myself right in limbo land. Some will look at me and say "wow, I wish I could look like that." But most of you only look upon me with pity..."too bad he's so fat." To which I say..."I'm 350 pounds under my ideal weight...isn't that enough?"

3. Why do I write? You know, it occurred to me a while back that I really wanted to be a writer. Not so I could reveal any startling truths to the world. More so I could be on Oprah. But seriously, I have read hundreds of books and struggled to adjust my thinking to line up with a person I did not know, writing in a style I was not really familiar with. I had this sense that for me to gain the wisdom and insight I needed to gain, I really had to become someone else. It was as if no one was writing who was like me. Now there were some people who came close, and some great books that really spoke to my heart, but still...I had to reach to connect.

Then came the book "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller. He is from Texas, he's younger than me, and there are thousands of ways he is not like me. But in his writing I saw myself. It was a voice I recognized. So I read all of his books and I realized I too could have a voice. Through Donald I found Anne Lamott and others that wrote in a voice and a language I could understand. It was then I set about to write down what it was going on in my head. Now the writer in me was coming to life. I found myself getting more and more introspective and probing the depths of why and how. I was turning pages in my life that had never really been opened. And as I wrote I felt Him right there...asking me questions..probing into my life...talking to me and telling me great things. So I try to capture those things that he speaks to me about, and write them down. And I do so in my voice...not anyone else...not even Donald's. Because maybe, you are struggling to find your voice and maybe you can connect with me...or NOT!

So now you know, that's my story and I'm sticking with it. I don't think I'm a great writer or a great walker, or quite frankly a good listener. But I am learning to quiet myself and as I write I feel very close to Him. So for me, it's all worship. You see I don't know any other reason as to why I am even alive other than to walk with Him and to somehow reflect some of him in my life. So there may be lots of reasons why we get out of bed...but the best is to spend time with Him.

Fear Revisited

This morning was all about fear. I mean really...whom do I fear...fear not for I am with you...and yet...there it is. I was afraid last night before going to bed that I was going to have a heart attack. I was afraid at my class that someone was going to jump out from behind the dumpster and beat me and steal my Bug. This morning, I couldn't find my iPhone which doubles as my iPod and my iCamera and my iFart Machine (that's really scary). I took off walking afraid I was still going to have that heart attack and people would think I was a speed bump in the middle of the road (albeit a big one). What can I say...for some unknown reason, I am experiencing fear all of the sudden.

But one of my biggest fears ever I faced head on this morning. One that I wrote about in the past, and now seems so silly. That's right...Elmo the Emu.

If your new to the Walker's Journal, a year ago I saw something strange and weird as I was walking in the early morning dark. I was not quite sure what it was and as I got closer and closer to it it moved quickly and I ran like a crying baby to get away from it. I thought it was an Ostrich, but later learned it was an Emu. Over the months that have followed I've seen him about a dozen times and have been less and less scared of him.

So this morning when I saw him, I not only didn't run away, but I actually called him to me. I did what every trained animal handler does...I whistled and said..."here boy...come here Elmo...come and see me." Of course I extended my hand like I was going to pet him...palm down...cause that's what you do....uh...for strange dogs. I was brave and fearless so he would know I'm not afraid of him...cause that's what you do with Lions...or something.

But to my surprise...Elmo started coming towards me. Now it's a strange thing when the things you fear actually start to come at you...as brave as you are for trying to overcome your fear, when they actually come at you...well...it changes things. All of that bravery I had in that moment was lost. I looked into those beady little eyes and that huge beak and I panicked...I fled...I freaked. I took off out of there at a brisk pace knowing all the while that Elmo could run me down in a second, and he could peck a hole in the back of my head and eat out my brains. No one would know, and no one would intervene cause once an Emu gets the taste of blood...well I shudder to think what would happen.

Its a funny thing about fear. Fear is sometimes real. He gives us the discernment to know when we are in danger. Women have this crazy intuition...especially about weird guys...it is a protection for them. Mankind has a healthy fear of Lions and Tigers and Emu's...cause they can be dangerous. But because we think we can handle anything, we try to overcome those healthy normal fears and challenge the natural order. What we find out is, that it is really just a matter of time before the Lion gets you, just ask Siegfried and Roy.

"Fear not, for I am with you." He said that. He also said..."run for your lives...there's an Emu right behind us." He's pretty smart...and fast too.

Quotes

Today, as I do everyday, I read the three quotes on my browser. I decided to share them with you too. Today was especially good. Here are the three quote for today.

Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.
- Marilyn Monroe

Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future.
- Niels Bohr

Democracy is a process by which the people are free to choose the man who will get the blame.
- Laurence J. Peter

Songs in the Key of Life

I know, that is also the title of Stevie Wonder's landmark album. I know cause that was what I was listening to this morning on my walk. There are just some things that just go together, and walking and Stevie are made for each other. It must be quite a fright though for people waking up in the morning, going out to get their paper, and seeing a fat old white dude boogying down the street...not really walking, but more like grooving. Can't explain what happens...but it is a startling transformation...I FEEELLLL like I have rhythm...even if I don't.

What I love about this album, besides the music...is how Stevie shatters our conventional ideas and see's the world through His eyes. Maybe it is because Stevie can't actually see. You know how other senses seem to be enhanced when one is not present. Maybe He gave him a special ability to "see" what is important.

Now I have no idea what Stevie's religious affiliation is. My guess he is like most people, sort of a mixed bag of beliefs from various sources. But there is something about what God does through people with different perspectives. He uses people, even harsh critics, to hold up a mirror to our lives. When someone says people in the church are predjudiced and hypocritical, it is easy for us to discount what that person says. Or we can turn it back to them and show how evil they are and try to minimize that person.

Or..........we can take what they say and evaluate it as if looking into a mirror. As I listened to Stevie sing songs about the inequality that exists in the lives of men because, and soley because of the color of our skin, I have to admit that that is true. And not just true in the world, but true in my life. Now I may not have predjudice against black people, but it may be against Chinese people, or Arabs, or Skinheads.

The reality is we do have predjudice. As a person who walks with Him on a regular basis, you would think I would take on more of His characther. He is in fact a lover and designer of every person, people group, color, language...and yet, often I fail to appreciate what He has created.

That's why, I allow people like Stevie to speak into my life. I want to know how a Black man living in America feels and what he experiences...I need to know...I need to care...because He cares. As long as I keep myself closed off and segregated...even in my mind...I fail to see the spectrum of color and light He has created for me. I cannot be full and complete until I understand that I am not the apex of His creation...who could follow someone so shallow that would make me as their finest example of creativity.

But He is not me. He loves to create beauty in this world...it's up to us to open our eyes and see all that He creates. It is up to us to open our ears and listen to the beauty of the songs in the key of life all around us. Thanks Stevie for allowing Him to use you.

Oh Dem Blues

Well I was out there this morning. Walkin and talkin and listening to the Buddy Guy and Junior Wells album called "Alone and Acoustic." I love Buddy and had the chance to go to his club "Legends" in South Chicago once...what a great experience. Buddy wasn't there but we saw Luther "Guitar Junior" Johnson who was amazing. I got into the Blues back in the early 70's when my heroes like Clapton and Zeppelin all attributed their music to the Delta Blues from the 40's and 50's. Guys like Muddy, and Robert Johnson, and BB, and Lightnin, and John Lee. Well I started listening and saw it really change me...for the better. Let me explain.

I grew up in a culture and an environment where feelings were kept to yourself. If you had a problem...work it out by yourself. The idea of sharing how you feel or being honest about pain and hurt was problematic in my family. I began my journey in this life under the impression that we just don't connect with people on that kind of level...so I didn't. Now I don't fault my parents...it is what they learned about life from their parents. It was and is I believe a hold over from the Western European societies that propagated the "keep a stiff upper lip" mentality. No sign of any emotion what so ever...very proper.

And then you have this culture who is all about expression. Whether it originated from the tribal dances or it was inherently a part of their make up I don't know. But when African people began to be "integrated" into this predominantly white stoic culture, it was like oil and water. They sang of their troubles and their pain. They danced when they were joyful and celebrated enthusiastically every great and simple thing. They were expressive and outgoing and though they were outwardly confined, inwardly they were soaring free.

Blues music came as a result of years and years of oppression and being treated as if they were not as good or an equal to the stiff upper lip crowd. When your woman ran off with another man, you sang sad songs that made you feel the depth of that pain and sorrow and betrayal. When they were in love, they sang in code about how they really felt about that woman (or man in a few cases). But all of it was raw and real and heart felt...there was no "so put on a happy face' kind of songs...no way.

It is interesting to me how our culture, though founded on Judean Christian values, so rejected the Blues and the derivative that came out of it Rock and Roll, as being so evil. I mean come on, put a n old Martin guitar, a Honer harp, and a broken bottle neck in King David's hands and you have the way early version of the Blues. Jeremiah...the "weeping prophet"...that is so low down it makes a blues man look chipper. And isn't it amazing that Jesus hanging on the cross didn't cry out "cheerio..all right then...keep a stiff upper lip then...oh oh...no tears allowed." Instead Jesus wailed and cried and sang out an all time classic Blues line..."my God, my God, why have you forsaken me." Then he finished it out with a "it is finished."

From the very beginning to the very end of the Bible, we see a culture that was sad and down hearted when they needed to be. They rejoiced and celebrated when it was appropriate. They partied so hard at a wedding that Jesus had to make an additional 50 gallons of wine to keep it going. This was his first recorded miracle. Who wouldn't want to invite Jesus to their party. At the end of time when we are all gathered around the throne and laying in a heap in front of our God, I doubt the first words out of His mouth will be..."all right now folks...lets just calm down...you Pentecostals better settle down like the Presbyterians...and you Black churches...you are so out of order." No, every nation, every people group, and every culture will be represented, and it will be a PAR-TEE!!!!!

If Jesus felt the sting of hurt and pain...I'm sure it's alright for us as well. People...lighten up and get real...when your sad...listen to the Blues...you'll feel a lot better when you face your humanity and allow the God who created us as emotional beings to restore us and prepare us for the party.

More Thoughts on Families

As I was walking this morning, I was thinking again about my mom and dad and the influence they had on me. Thinking about the positive things they gave me and the negative ones I seemed to pick up as well. I realized every single one of us have picked some good and bad from our parents. Those coupled with our bad habits we create all on our own...well we're kind of a mess most days.

I was telling some friends yesterday about me writing about my parents, when one said, "I wonder what my kids are going to write about me."

Wow...it hit me like a piano falling from the sky...I have probably screwed up my kids too. I have always thought everything good they learned from me and everything bad...well...uhhh....I guess from Tr...no from the Devil. But to be honest as I see my kids now, I see their faults (which for their sake I will not point out in this forum) and I can see my own set of faults ingrained in them. I see their strengths and I see mine as well. And yet they too have developed their own unique set of problematic traits that they will more than likely pass on to their kids.

Its kind of a crazy scenario. If you are honest your kids see the ugly part of you and actually replicate those bad things. If you try to cover up the ugly in you they still seem to find it...and then call you a hypocrite to boot. I guess the same is true about our strengths as well...but it takes way longer to see.


Here's a song that Marc Cohn wrote that describes this whole process. It's called "The Things We've Handed Down."

Don't know much about you
Don't know who you are
We've been doing fine without you
But, we could only go so far
Don't know why you chose us
Were you watching from above
Is there someone there that knows us
Said we'd give you all our love


Will you laugh just like your mother
Will you sigh like your old man
Will some things skip a generation
Like I've heard they often can
Are you a poet or a dancer
A devil or a clown
Or a strange new combination of
The things we've handed down


I wonder who you'll look like
Will your hair fall down and curl
Will you be a mama's boy
Or daddy's little girl
Will you be a sad reminder
Of what's been lost along the way
Maybe you can help me find her
In the things you do and say

And these things that we have given you
They are not so easily found
But you can thank us later
For the things we've handed down


You may not always be so grateful
For the way that you were made
Some feature of your father's
That you'd gladly sell or trade
And one day you may look at us
And say that you were cursed
But over time that line has been
Extremely well rehearsed
By our fathers, and their fathers
In some old and distant town
From places no one here remembers
Come the things we've handed down

The Rest of the Story

No! I didn't walk today. I'm sorry. But it was so wet and pissy outside I just flat didn't want to go...so I didn't. Happy. I'm a slouch.

But, I had so much yesterday I wanted to say and I simply ran out of time. I wanted to give you...you know...like Paul Harvey (God rest his soul) used to say...the rest of the story.

You see I wrote yesterday about how much I resemble my dad now that I am actually getting older. And everything I said was true. But it is really only half of the story. I am also a lot like my mother as well. Now in the past I was so mad at my dad for never seemingly taking an interest in me (I was the seventh child), that I used to say all of my bad qualities I got from him, and all of my good ones I got from my mom (wow long sentence). Well I have since matured a bit and I know that is not entirely true. My dad actually had some very good qualities that I greatly admire...and even possess at times. And truth be told, my mom had a few bad qualities that I seem to have at times too.

But my mom. Wow. What a woman. If my dad was the drill sergeant in me, my mom was the poet in me. My dad was the rigid un-compassionate unsympathetic jerk I can be. My mom was the sunlight laughter run through the daisies in me. My dad was Hank and Johnny and Merle and Buck and Porter and Patsy. My mom was Mozart and Ludwig and John Paul George Ringo and Miles and Woody and Rogers Hammerstein and Opera. My Dad was play by the rules and don't make any missteps in me. Mom was don't color inside the lines and wilderness without trails and no limits in me.

She was a beautiful woman. And even though the hard years and seven kids took a toll on her physically, she had a brightness and radiant beauty that shone out of the darkness all around her. She was what I was looking for when I found Tracey...I knew what I wanted...someone who reminded me of her beauty.

I miss my mom...a lot. I wish she could have seen the light she brought to me. I wish I could sit with her and know I matter and am important to this world and I make a difference. I wish she could know how I treasure the parts of her I find in me. They're the parts that seem to come out mostly when I am playing with my grand kids on the floor or building them zip lines. Or the parts that freak out over a sunrise or a sunset. There the parts that light up when that airplane lands in a foreign country and there are new horizons to discover. Or when some fat opera singer hits a really high note...man that just sends shivers up my spine.

I miss my mom...God rest her soul...I only really see her once in a while now...I need to see her more...
Where the heck are those grand kids?