For more years that I've been alive than not ... I've read about myself.
For the better part of thirty years I was in newspapers, articles, books and on television. (I think that my favorite is this book called Spiritual Literacy in which stories of mine are quoted. A exasperated Rabbi called to protest that was nothing especially literate about my spirituality!)
At first it was a real ego trip. I remember going to the Seminary Library to look at "The Journal of Social Work and Christianity" to see my name in print for the first time. It was an article I'd written that I now no longer remember the title. It was cool seeing myself there and my ego tripped.
Anyway, there was a lot of it in the decades which followed. The vast majority was good. Some of it was bad. Over time I became immune to it ... just part of another day ... give a quote or a sound bite ... write another book or newsletter story.
Now newspapers and books as we've known them are dying. Replaced by cyberspace, instant gratification and discarding things with the click of a button.
Earlier this week, Sarah and I took boxes of books to the Library. Things I'd read forever ago where taking up space. It was interesting. The Library was full ... of people on the computers.
The book shelves were half empty with no one wandering up and down the aisle's.
Every day I sit with the lap top open and the entire world is at my disposal on a ten by fourteen screen. I read news from other countries, listen to old music and the newest stuff, converse with friends strewn to and fro on the face of the earth. I've got friends whom I've never actually met though we talk often. Requests come from everywhere.
I get instant messages, private ones, wall posts and ... the occasional request for an interview by a reporter. I tell them everything I have to say can be found on the web. "Just take whatever quotes you want from there," I explain.
They protest wanting to do things the old fashion way. I sat that I'll call them back though I never do ... though that time is quickly coming again.
Of course there are those messages that make me out to be this horrendous creature from hell. Just the other day I was described as "a predator of women, the architect of failed marriages, a man who cusses, drinks and is a generally bad influence on children."
I take issue with none of these things ... though the women I've been married to might ... my children certainly would as they my mightiest protectors ... lots of children love me, especially three little girls and if the author came to Bar Church they may be cut during the service for saying such things about me.
There's one person who flew over my house in a helicopter once and confessed, "If I had a bomb I would drop on him. I hate him" (Hi Francis!).
If she attended Bar Church I'm afraid that more than being cut with a knife would be involved.
The point being that I've done far more good than bad in my life ... though I certainly have scars and am as wounded as anyone else from the bad.
I'm not perfect, just forgiven as the old saying goes and I started by forgiving myself. God forgave me long before I forgave myself. I've done the best I know how to do. And there are a lot of people who appreciate that.
In the Library I ran into Dicky who used to be homeless but isn't anymore and we chatted as he ran his business from the public computer. At practice for Bar Church yesterday I was hugged and thanked for loving people though they don't feel especially lovely these days. A friend asked me about getting affordable dental care in Savannah and, say what you will, I'm the one who created it (though it's no longer mine). There are all of these messages that take more and more of my day, "Can I ...?" and I believe in customer service so I respond to each and every one.
And these reporters keep calling and messaging. I really don't want to do that right now but ... they are relentless and I've got great stories to tell!
I've had my share of ego tripping. It'll take you straight to hell. I left mine there.
I wake up every day and try to do a little better than I did yesterday. I try to be nice. If people ask me for stuff I try to help and get frustrated when I can't. I've given the best of me away only to have it handed back to me on a silver platter. I lived large and I've downsized significantly.
Last night we sat at Wyn and Sean's, eating spaghetti, watching the moon rise over the ocean, telling stories and being friends. We shared from the brokenness which really is the best place to start ... and not from pompousness ... which is where hell begins.
