Jesus: The Rolling Stone Interview

Recently we caught up with Jesus Christ on his way to save a troubled soul that he asked we not divulge though he did agree to answer several questions. This is the first published interview with Jesus since Thomas the Apostle (aka, Doubting Thomas) conducted one and I'm honored to be the first in over 2000 years to do it again.

He wanted to meet on the Pier before he walked on water to his appointment dressed in a white robe with a red sash. Blond hair was neatly coiffed, as was his beard, and his steely blue eyes carefully considered every question before answering.

Jesus, thank you for making time for this. Everyone knows how busy you are so let's right to the questions. Beatles or Stones?

"I love 'Sympathy for the Devil' by the Stones. That song always kills me! And 'The Girl with Far Away Eyes' makes me laugh out loud. But ... it's The Beatles! They bring a Hymn like quality to most everything. So ... yeah it's Beatles all the way."

So were the Beatles really more popular that you?

"Oh sure! For a while anyway."

Speaking of Hymns, what's your fav?

"Wow! That's a good question. Well ... I know it's not 'The Old Rugged Cross' ... cause that thing hurt like Hell! ... 'Jesus loves me' is really a manipulative request to get me to always look the other way ... but I'd have to say 'To God be the Glory' because it really is all about God ... oh! ... and 'Let it Be'."

Thanks for opening that door. We all know that God is the Father but who the heck is the Holy Ghost? Your brother? Some long lost uncle?

{Jesus laughs}. "We do have an unorthodox family tree. The answer to your questions are ... 'Yes.'"

Fair enough. Okay, next question ... How do you feel when people thank you at the Grammys?

"I don't really like much of the new stuff these days. It's mostly just MUZAC! The last time I really cared was when Helen Reddy won for 'I am Woman, hear me roar.' That was some good stuff! I suppose it's nice that people thank me but honestly, I think it's mostly crap."

Praise music is very popular in today's church services. Do you like it?

"It's kind of like Mick Jagger isn't it? Holding up hands and dancing around ... it's a lot like church ... if it makes people feel better I'm all for it ... but it's nothing I especially care about."

We've run out of time and I know you have to go but ... one more question?

"Sure but make it quick."

Thank you.

"Who wins the next Survivor?"

I wish I spoke "Frog"

I'm listening to a choir of frogs.

It's an overcast morning, hinting of rain with a breezy blast of salty air from the ocean.

Sitting on the Beloved Back Deck with Winston, The Little Gay Dog, who desperately wants me to let him inside so he can snuggle with the sleeping Sarah ... the chorus of frogs are deafening ... harmoniously so.

I've got lots to do but I'm not doing any of it.

It's been a crazy week ... the exhausting kind ... and I'm determine Sarah sleeps as long as she damn well pleases ... which is why Winston, TLGD, sits in exile with me.

Plus the frogs have obviously put a lot of practice into this performance.

I'm not overthinking things but sit here appreciating the moment ... and the choir's performance.

"Stress makes you believe everything has to happen right now," is something our friend Chuck Courtenay posted on Facebook, "Faith reassures you that everything will happen in God's time."

I'm not one of those who believe that God sits in the sky pulling strings to make things happen according to some plan but ... I believe Chuck's quote is right.

Sarah and I have been struggling with God's timing.

We get the stress part ... things need to be happening now! ... and we know what they are ... how can God not know what they are and when they need to happen?

But they're not.

So what do you do?

We have faith things are going to happen ... we just wish it was now.

But it's not.

This choir of frogs have me wondering if God's trying to me something.

Why else would they be bursting in song this morning as I sit here pondering things, protecting my wife and trying to figure out Divine Plans that obviously conflict with ours?

Oh well ... what do you do?

I let Winston, TLGD, inside and he darts to snuggle with the sleeping Sarah while I tiptoe back to the choir of frogs.

I wish I spoke frog.

I'm pretty sure they're telling me something.

I hope it's ... when.

Why do good people do bad things?

"It isn't my fault," she pleads.

Standing in the rental house from which she's being evicted, she cries and mascara runs down a pasty white face.

It's not her rental house ... she was just staying there with her boyfriend who'd signed the lease but they didn't get along so he left ... and she stayed.

In frustration, anger and tunnel vision focus only on herself ... she trashed the place.

There's no way she's going to be out by the deadline ... forcing the owner whose already losing money with every second she remains in the house to make an ethical/moral/religious decision on the spot.

Call the Police and confiscate her belongings (all scattered on the floor ... including the pictures of her two small children) or ... give her one more day?

And it's raining.

The owner has done nothing wrong yet feels God's punishing her for past sins.

Most blame belongs to the boyfriend who signed the lease, realized he's in a shitty relationship and ... rather than deal with it ... flees. (I don't know why the story of the Prodigal Son flashes through my head at this point.)

Wearing running shorts that don't cover her ass, dirty hair piled on top of her head, standing over the photographs of her children on the floor ... she cries explaining the boyfriend said he'd paid the rent and she has time to figure out what to do ... and where to go.

"It isn't my fault," she sobs ... using the only weapon she has left ... manipulation.

"This is my kids stuff."

The air is sucked out of the room.

Sitting on the banister of the staircase, bare feet dangling in the air, Styrofoam cup in hand, staring at the trashed house ... I watch and listen ... and think.

Why do good people do bad things?

I don't know how good they are ... most are better than others ... some seem Angelic ... but whatever amount of good is in this mother of two ... and her relocated boyfriend ... has crashed on the shoulders of the owner of the house like a heavy cross ... with Roman shoulders slashing with whips ... in front of a snarling crowd.

It just ain't right," as Grandma Carver used to say.

Why do people ... regardless of how much good they have in them ... do bad things?

Why do tornadoes swoop down blowing up homes and killing people? ... How do tsunamis roll out the sea flooding homes and drowning families? ...  Lighting strikes from nowhere killing a father watching the sun set as his family plays in the sand ...

Can it be that bad things are simply part of the way life is?

Let's be honest ... we all got bad in our lives ... some more than others ... and bad always arrives at the worst possible time.

But ... it is what it is ... as my Mother says.

What do you do when it comes?

That's the real question.

What do you do?

Snorting Holy Water

I had a friend who snorted BC Headache Powder.

"What in the Hell are you doing?" I demand the first time I witness him empty the wax paper onto the desk, straighten the white powder into a thin line, roll up a dollar bill and snort it up his nose.

"I think you're suppose to swallow the stuff," I offer.

"Why?" he asks wiping his nose with his sleeve, "I don't have a stomach ache."

I don't know how to respond.

"I got a headache," he continues. "This is the fastest way to get rid of it."

I found it hard to not love Rodger Pack.

It made such an impression I included the whole scene in my book "Tour of Homes" though, honestly, I haven't thought about it in years.

Until last night.

Sarah's oldest, Maddie's been on a four week trip with her grandmother, the Virgin Mary.

The Virgin Mary is a very devote, opinionated and dictatorial Catholic and as she and her husband drove Maddie across the country they stopped for Church a lot.

The Virgin Mary and her husband prayed and genuflected while 12 year old Maddie checked out the boys.

Anyway ... Maddie returned home last night bearing presents for Sarah, her sisters and me!

I got a bottle of Holy Water.

A white cap carved into a rose adorns the top of a glass vial with an elaborate metal engraving of Jesus touching his scared heart and a Celtic Cross behind his head.

For some reason ... the number "69" is on the bottom.

"Is this from you or the Virgin Mary?" I ask as she laughs when handing it to me though it quickly turns to horror when I unscrew the top and take swig.

"Oh My God," Maddie exclaims covering her mouth as her sisters burst out laughing.

"What?" I ask before taking a snort up both nostrils, "I want to be filled with Jesus."

"I'm going to tell my Grandmother," Maddie threatens.

"Go for it," I reply.

Cassidy, Sarah's 7 year old, asks, "Can I have some?"

"No precious child," I explain, "this is all mine."

Laurel, the 10 year old and by far the most religious of the girls, tells us she's going to her room.

"It's only eight o'clock," Sarah says. "It's too early to go to bed."

"I'm not going to bed," Laurel explains walking down the stair. "I'm going to pray for Mike."

"Aw thanks Laurel," I beam. "That can only help."

Post Biirthday Blues

Staring at all of the birthday wishes on my computer screen ... I'm incredibly thankful.

Sarah got an early jump posting a sweet love note to me on Facebook and a slew of friends jumped on it with their own birthday wishes.

Other friends took time to send wishes and comments on my Facebook page and it was great to hear from many I haven't talked with in a long time.

There were several messages on LinkedIn and my friend Rick Smith actually send on an old fashion e-mail.

Going completely over the top, Sarah also presented me with an actual birthday card with a message SHE HAD WRITTEN with a pen!

Judy O burst into The Breakfast Club and gave me a birthday hug which led the team that works there to scream "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" repeatedly at the top of their lungs.

Sarah gave me more than a hug later in the morning.

Each of my kids called and we shared great conversations.

Two of Sarah's girls called to sing me "Happy Birthday" and the other messaged a bunch of happy faces then quickly moved on to lobbying me to take them to Florida.

I worked part of the day ... meaning I looked for work because things are slow right now.

We have renters who relocated to another state without telling us and that cannibalized part of my special day.

I did get a birthday nap, snuggled beside Sarah, which is a wonderful gift.

We went out for dinner and afterwards sat in "our" swing on the beach but it was too windy so we left to listen to Sam Adams play damn good live music on the island.

As soon as we entered, God told Sam to stop playing in the middle of a song to hug us and talk for a while which was nice and we enjoyed each other as friends do, though God told Sam to tell me it's time for me do something in Bar Church again.

Back home again, Sarah and I watched a movie while birthday wishes buzzed on my phone then it was time for bed.

Now I've reread each and every wish, watched the cute videos people linked, listened to the voice mails, replied to the personal messages while touching the card Sarah gave me.

I find myself with the post Birthday blues.

It's not centered on being older ... I'm a kid at heart!

And it's not that I lack in much, because I don't, though I fret about how to keep it all.

But there's a restlessness ... a boredom that's crept inside ... that's leaving me melancholy on a lovely sun drenched morning kissed with a delightful ocean breeze.

It happens after most birthdays ... and with some regularity throughout the year ... a question haunts ... the fire in my belly burns ... in spite of everything I've done and I've done a lot ... the only thing matters is what's next?

Thank you everyone.

Cinnamon Rolls are like Life

I never thought I'd be baking Cinnamon Rolls again but here I am staring at the Pillsbury Doe Boy who's smiling at me.

I hate the little bastard!

When I opened the can, tearing off the little silver piece, only the tinniest sliver of wrapping comes off leaving no way for the can to POP open.

Sarah and the kids are still sleeping so I can't beat the Hell out of it on the counter top.

Pillsbury and its frigging little Doe Boy makes me cuss.

Taking a butcher knife I stab the cute little SOB and cut the can.

POP ... doe magically appears from the wound.

Shards of Pillsbury Doe Boy and his defective can fall to the floor ... which makes me smile.

In spite of the false promises of Pillsbury marketing of easy open cans, I bake five Cinnamon Rolls, slather them with icing and watch Cassidy, Sarah's 7 year old, eat the tops.

"Why aren't you eating  the bottoms?"

"They're burnt," she tells me.

"When did golden brown become burnt?"

She shrugs her shoulders leaving the bottom of five Cinnamon Rolls on her plate.

Leaving her to finish the chocolate milk, I stroll outside to the Beloved Back Deck realizing how much cooking Cinnamon Rolls is like life.

Everything seems perfect when we start, largely because we believe all the false promises that everything is perfect.

In actuality most everything is defective ... you, me, the world and the way things really work.

Discovering this makes us angry forcing us to lash out at the beliefs in perfection and the false Prophets who sold us such crock.

In spite of this we somehow figure out a way to make it work.

Even when we pull things off ... even miraculously! ... not everyone is pleased.

That's Life!

I may as well accept it.

Damn little Pillsbury Doe Boy!  

The Answer

My friend Dr. Jim Withers recently posted, "Now we're down to hours between mass shootings - not days. Pray for our people. Pray for change."

Since then a man stormed a Georgia courthouse ready to do more carnage but was killed after only wounding one.

In Atlanta a woman kills her husband in a Kroger before killing herself.

Down to hours indeed!

We watch it on the news with a detached objectivity, a sad acceptance of disbelief such things happen and a prayer of thanks it's no one we know.

The religious among us pray for our people and pray for change but things stay pretty much the same.

Politicians make promises, increasing funding for police departments, build more prisons to lock the problem away but nothing makes a difference.

Most just go about there business, getting on with our lives with some conviction there's not much we can do anyway because crazy people are going to do crazy things.

What do you do?

Honestly, we're not there yet as a people to address things like mass shootings, needless deaths, homelessness, corrupt health care systems, greedy leaders and selfish religions.

Our hearts aren't broken.

"When all the broken hearted people living in the world agree there will be an answer ... then they will be an answer.

But not until then.

As bad as things are ... our hearts aren't broken yet.

Nothing much is going to happen until then.

A Day to Enjoy

Getting sick forces you to face your mortality.

I happen to have lots of friends experiencing this at the same time, each diagnosed with some form of cancer and each fighting to live knowing there is a finality to this life as we know it.

Amber's been in treatment for over a year now. Wanda just had a mastectomy. Gyni got a crew cut in front of his students. Guy turns his treatment into thoughtful sermons to lift the rest of us while he's down.

My morning ritual is to focus on each of them, conjuring up their faces and sending them prayers, good Karma and whispers of love.

I wish there was more I could do but for now that seems all.

Now I have pneumonia and while that's not cancer it does give me pause.

I take a shit load of medicine, drink gallons of water, hate the breathing treatments because they make me cough to spit up the infection and that hurts like Hell.

Of course my prognosis is good and I feel alright most of the time so, while I know the Grim Reaper can show up anywhere and anytime, I'm not too worried.

Such times force you to evaluate your life and ask if you've done everything you've wanted or needed.

Never one to wait, I've experienced lots of things, seen wishes come true, lived dreams, and while I've had my fair share of heartbreak and tragedy, I still want more.

I don't wait until the time is right to do things because there's only NOW as far as I'm concerned.

Sitting here healing, I'm thankful each of my friends are still here, pretty happy I am too, enjoying a brilliant blue sky, choirs of birds singing Hymns of Praise, bathed in warm sunshine, watching flowers bloom, on an island full of friends, at a house full of love.

Memorial Day weekend is time to remember the things we've lost but also a celebration of the life we have and I'm doing both this weekend!

To the losses I say thanks. As difficult and as painful as you were, in spite of the scars I carry because of you, I'm still here, stronger and wiser because of your inflictions.

To the life I have now I celebrate as I never have before, incredibly thankful just to be here, surrounded with people who've more than demonstrated love for me, in a place I love, with Sarah and with plans to enjoy more of this life before the time to face whatever it is that comes next.

Happy Day Everyone!

It's yours to enjoy!

My Gay Life

I don't remember in High School.

Integration was happening and, on the football team anyway, blacks and white got along well.

Besides one of my best friends was Paul Walker, a very tall black kid, and we'd crash parties at the Desoto Hilton exchanging dates so we entered the ballroom as interracial couples. The moment we strolled inside everything stopped and you could hear a pin drop.

No one knew what to say in those uncomfortable days so nobody said anything.

Paul and I and our dates ate and drank for free before laughing all the way to the Garden City Methodist Church where we parked ... making out until the girls had to be home.

At Georgia Southern I had friends who were gay, one on our Intramural Football Team "The Smokey Jays" and never really thought much about it.

I was busy working, going to school and my son had been born so there wasn't a lot of free time to wonder about differences.

But in Seminary my world changed!

In the early 80s there was AIDS.

Inexplicably I was the "Professional Christian" in charge of an inner city church where I was intensely focused on Ronald Regan's exploding homeless population.

AIDS scared everyone more and landlords were evicting gay tenants left and right who were sick and had nowhere to go.

Some heard about a hippy preacher who helped people find a place to stay so they came to me.

Young, naïve, with a good heart and high hopes, I believed in Jesus and everything he did so I did my best to help.

And I entered another universe.

People in love ... or desperate for it ... faced discrimination like I had never seen and God forbid if you were both black and gay because churches of all colors were so lovingly hypocritical.

"GOD DID NOT CREATE ADAM AND STEVE," an African-American preacher bellows as I integrated his congregation. GOD MADE ADAM AND EVE AND THAT'S THE WAY IT'S ORDAINED TO BE!"

"What a shit head," I remember thinking.

So in Louisville, Kentucky in the 80s and Savannah, Georgia in the 90s and 00's a big part of my life ... a big part of my heart ...was spent helping the gay community become one with the rest of us.

We opened Glade House in Louisville and Phoenix Place in Savannah so people with AIDS had a home when their own families kicked them out.

As important we helped "out" gay people through the St. Jude's Guild in Louisville and First City Network in Savannah.

I'm very proud to have played a small part in these things.

So this weekend, Sarah and I are celebrating "The Rainbow Festival" on Tybee Island where we live.

We are full of Gay pride!

"Red and yellow, black and white," keeps running through my head, "Lesbian or gay, transgender or any ol' way ... all are precious in his sight ... Heaven's come to us today!"

Amen!

And thank God!

No Not One

"You've offended Tony Compolo," Richard tells me on the phone.

Richard is the publisher of my latest book, "A Non-Church Goer's Guide to God" is what it's being called at the moment.

Tony Compolo is the famous "speaker, author, sociologist, pastor, social activist and passionate follower of Jesus."

"What did I do? I ask.

"Well," Richard gravely replies, "When you say 'No Savior will ever sleep in the White House' Dr. Compolo didn't care for it because he's slept in the White House."

"No way," I exclaim like Garth did on "Wayne's World."

"Way," Richard perfectly replies.

"Well," I sigh.

"Yeah we can't get anybody to endorse your book. That's never happened before."

"No way," I say again channeling my inner Garth.

"Way," Richard laughs. "We're putting a positive spin on it. If nobody will endorse your book, it must be good. They're scared of it ... so that's what we going to say."

"You mean none of my Seminary Professors will give me a blurb for the cover?"

"None of them remember you," Richard reports.

"What about Guy Sayles or Bill Berry?" I asks.

"They never returned our calls."

"You know Bill's not the drummer for ..."

"I know," Richard cuts me off. "You've told me."

Tapping my finger tips against my teeth I ponder before asking, "You mean there's not one single person in the world who'll vouch for my book."

"No not one," Richard says laughingly, quoting the old Christian Hymn.

"But you're publishing it anyway?" I say a little determined.

"Yeah, it's the alternative view written by a Baptist Minister about a Baptist Church and how screwed up Baptists are ... and it's funny."

"Alrighty then," I say filled with renewed confidence. "To Hell with Tony Compolo."

"That's the same thing he said about you," Richard says and hangs up.

Then the book was released with my favorite introduction of all my books with an explanation of why nobody in the universe supports anything I have to say.

What's wrong with crying?

Roy Orbison sang about "Crying."

I actually do it.

Getting it naturally from my Dad who easily cried after surviving a rough start in life, the horrors of war, watching his best friends die ... it left him ... "tear friendly."

He wept like Jesus wept.

Passing his tear ducts on, salt water flows easily from my eyes.

Here's an example.

We were watching "American Idol" ... often reason enough to cry ... when a commercial came on and the song was familiar so I grabbed my I-phone and found Zach Sobiech's magnificent "Clouds"

Zach was 17 when he was dying of cancer trying to figure out to say goodbye to everyone so he wrote a song that got recorded and took on a life of it's on as he lost his.

As I played it on Youtube, Sarah's 7 year old Cassidy crawls in my lap, lays her head on my shoulder and as we watch together ... my tears flow freely.

"Give Mike a hug," Sarah says from the sofa, "he's crying."

American society holds the value that tears are signs of weakness.

I think a lot of American society is bullshit because if Jesus wept then he's apparently as un-American as they come.

My Dad the Marine Prisoner of War too!

I believe it's healthier to cry ... to let your emotions out and not bottle things up inside.

Dr. Judith Orloff concludes, "Typically, after crying, our breathing, and heart rate decreases, and we enter into a calmer biological and emotional state."

That sounds pretty healthy to me.

It's a shame the world ... American society, John Wayne, the Die-Hard movies, Chris Rock, the modern church (not Jimmy Swaggart but Joel Osteen and T.D. Jakes), and most everybody elected to public office ... frowns on crying.

Tear ducts were given to us by God and are every bit as important as lungs, eyes, hearts, passion, intellect, penises and vaginas!

I try to use all of my gifts from God.

What about you?

The Oppression of Divorce

When I returned to Savannah I was asked to conduct the marriage of a High School friend at one of the City's old historic churches.

He was divorced as was his bride.

Standing there in the black robe I bought for $10 from a Preacher going out of business I quoted Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Eli Wiesel.

"God's greatest gift is the chance to start over."

And the Bride and Groom cried because they had the chance ... and they were taking it.

Afterwards they thanked me for pointing out the Elephant in the room by acknowledging their divorces and still believing in love.

I remember walking through the moss draped Square after the service thinking about the oppression of the divorced.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit," says whoever wrote the Psalms (34:18) and divorce certainly breaks hearts and crushes spirits.

I also wondered why it's the Church orchestrating so much oppression of the brokenhearted and crushed people so near the Lord?

Somehow the Church made it into one of the Ten Commandments ... "Thou shalt not get divorced" though it's not certainly not one!

"But Jesus says," according to the modern day Pharisees (e.g. Fundamentalists and other shallow thinkers) "whoever divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another, commits adultery" ... and adultery is one of the Ten Commandments!

This verse if from the Gospel of Matthew and is the "Jewish" version of Jesus.

Quick lesson on the New Testament ... Paul's letters were written first ... THEN comes Mark ... closely followed by Matthew a couple of years later ... Luke was a decade after that ... and whoever the hell wrote John came out a decade or so later.

Just like Paul's letters were written to certain churches the Gospels were written for certain audiences.

Realizing everyone who knew Jesus personally was dying off Mark assembled his sayings and birthed the first Gospel which Matthew quickly plagiarized giving it a Jewish slant!

Lesson over.

The verse about not divorcing your wife unless SHE has sex with somebody else ... but it's okay if the husband does ... was all about Matthew trying to slowly bring the Jews over to Jesus' way of thinking ... by Jews I mean ancient Pharisees who believed in rules more than anything else.

Fast forward back to now.

It's a shame Pharisees run most Churches!

When I got divorced (X 2) lots of people ... church people! ... said horrible things when I was just trying to survive my broken heart and crushed spirit.

The same thing happened to Sarah and, because she comes from a background even more conservative than the First Baptist Church of Port Wentworth, Georgia, it was worse.

"Whoever does not love does not know God because ... God is love," I John 4:8.

A lot of divorced people know this WAY MORE than Church people.

Willie Page ... my son

It was one of those days when everything was going perfect.

Bright sunshine on a warm cloudless morning made Savannah especially lovely.

Wandering out of The Savannah Bank towards moss draped Johnson Square, I pause to notice the political rally taking place.

"ELLIOTT," Congressman Jack Kingston screams, "I NEED TO TALK TO YOU NOW!"

"Shit," I mutter but it's part of the job so I meander across the street.

All the Republicans in charge of everything are there and, after Jack greets me warmly, it seems as every one of them are glad I'm there, appreciative of something I'd done for them and needed something now.

Completely surrounded I'm the center of attention and enjoying every second of it!

"DADDY," I hear from the familiar voice. "DADDY!"

And Willie Page shuffles his uncooperative legs towards me.

The Republicans part like the Red Sea as the little black man with yellow teeth, flaky skin and a child's brown eyes strolls in and hugs me.

"HEY DADDY," he says in his raspy voice while keeping an arm around me.

"You're his Daddy?" Kingston asks.

"It's a long story," I reply ready to kill Willie on the one hand but absolutely loving him for coloring the rally something other than red on the other.

Then again, I love the red and black ... Go Dawgs!"

The Republicans are done with me though so Willie and I make our way to the Ice Cream shop beside the Barber Shop on Bull Street where he likes to hang out.

I buy him Ice Cream  and ask, "What do you want?"

"Daddy, can I come home?" he explains giving me his sad child face and licking the Ice Cream.

He means Grace House, the homeless shelter I ran. He'd lived there twice and loved it both times.

The first time he was a "success story" because we got him on disability and found him "permanent housing" in a boarding house but ... Willie missed us ... so he got himself kicked out and moved back into the shelter.

"Willie," I yell, "you cannot live in a frigging homeless shelter for the rest of you life!"

"I love you Daddy," he sheepishly replies.

"Listen," I fire back, "you get yourself kicked out of your next home then we're not going to be friends anymore. I'm not giving you any more birthday money either."

Horrified, Willie suddenly became the perfect client and a few weeks later we find him his new home.

A decade later he stumbles into the Republican Party and me.

I love him.

"Daddy, come see me play," he begs so one day I go to City Market and watch him play a string less guitar with Bucky and Barry, happy and in love with the people who love him.

It was the last time I saw my son.

He died today after a long stay at Hospice having stamped himself on the hearts of many.

So hey Willie, on behalf of a lot of us ... Thank you.

You were incredible making more lemonade out of the worst lemons ever!

And I can only imagine how long it's going to take the Angels to drag you from the Heavenly Banquet because ... God you love to eat!

Thank you most for teaching me by being you.

Because you were incredible!

The Girls

"You know everyone's watching you?" he says as we drink beers at "The Quarter" ... Tybee Island's lone Sports bar ... which is mostly bar without much sports ... but the TV was working that night.

"For what?"

"Three little girls," he replies.

For one of the few times in my life I'm at a complete loss of words.

When Sarah and I fell in love and married it was a miraculous, Heavenly sent, timely and a wonderful gift from God ...and like most relations ... we both brought baggage.

But she was looking for baggage that went with hers.

That was me.

In addition to baggage, what she brought to our marriage was three little girls ... and they brought a lot of trash.

As a survivor of already raising three children to successful adulthood it seems I shocked people by choosing to do it again ... as an older man.

The societal norm is I should be a grandfather by now, happily loving children I can sent home whenever I tire of them.

I don't have any grandchildren yet but look forward to whenever it happens.

In the meantime I help conceive and raise three of best children ever born (up there with Micah and Amber Berry, Mandy Sayles, Dani Sadowsky ... and her brother Ryan who didn't make the Top 10 List ... or the top 100 for that matter)!

I've got parental experience.

My kids are off successfully living their own lives and I live in a house with four girls (two of which menstruate and a third is not far off).

Half of the time things are just great!

Otherwise it's like being on a never ending reality television show.

But it's like when Jeremy, Kristen and Chelsea were coming up ... when I didn't want to kill them I'd never known such deep love.

Maddie, Laurel and Cassidy remind me of that every single day!

The second time around I'm pretty laissez faire about it ...

"Sure! Of course you can ride the skate board you got for your birthday down the hill into the marsh mud full of oyster shells with the cute little pod of baby sharks ... it'll be fun!"

Sarah's a first time parent so she takes such things far more serious not understanding how little influence she really has on who her girls are going to be when they grow up.

But back to whoever's watching me these days ... the girls crack me up ... when I don't want to kill them.

We share tender moments and I get the joy of watching them discover who they are as people.

In return I help as best I can.

Laurel, the middle child, has a gross fear of dead people so I got "Weekend at Bernies" to help her process irrational beliefs.

Next up is "Wayne's World" I and II to assist in defining their relationship with God and "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" to help confront their sexuality.

In return they give me lots of love and kisses ... along with numerous
opportunities to talk Sarah into letting them do things I know there's no way in Hell she's going to let them do!

It sure is fun making them think they've got a chance.

And they keep me young, laughing and are forever surprising me with really bad, putrid, suck ass music on the radio when I'm driving.

It's all good!

Today

The waves sing without ceasing this morning.

One consistent low-key roar of ocean hitting shore.

A thin grey blanket of clouds cover the sun.

There is no breeze and green leaves, purple Wisteria, red, pink and yellow petunias stand still as though in prayer.

Birds sing solos.

Squirrels quietly dart along electrical lines and in the branches of trees.

Sitting silently in the midst of these things, I'm open to the world that's been given to me today.

I had a rough and fitful night plagued with sinuses, restlessness, worrisome thoughts brought on by too much alcohol and not enough food or water.

At 3:17 I sat in the same chair on the Beloved Back Deck that I sit in now.

With my feet propped on the table I watched wisps of clouds gently glide passed a white full moon.

Wide awake, I contemplated unanswerable questions each beginning with the word "Why?"

After a while I returned to bed to snuggle beside Sarah who's sleep was a casualty of my night.

Sleep returned only to be interrupted by unwelcome dreams.

In the predawn darkness I welcome the day stumbling downstairs to the outdoor shower.

I gather with others for communion over coffee as light begins to chase the darkness away.

Afterwards, home again, I tend to the animals and check on Sarah who's now sleeping.

As the sun rises I sit as part of the waking world.

The day holds good and bad, unpleasant tasks mixed with welcomed ones, rendering unto Caesar what is his while working towards redemption from plans gone array.

Just as sand flies appear the slightest of ocean breeze blows them from hovering and leaves begin to dance.

The sun begins to throw off the sheets of clouds.

Sarah rises and the aroma of coffee brewing wafts with the sounds of her making breakfast.

The day is now born.

Now it is time to make the most of it.

Who Cares?

Most people get lost in thought.

I get lost in feelings.

It's easy for me to laugh, cry, joke or slide off into an alternative universe of emotions where there is no time.

It's very Monk-like in that I'll be thinking about something before I realize I'm staring at the sunlight shinning on green leaves dancing in the breeze.

How did 30 minutes just pass?

Where was I?

Did Scotty beam me up and back down again?

Was that prayer?

I'll give you an example.

Several years ago I was invited to the LBJ School of Public Policy at the University of Texas in Austin (a most beautiful college campus) and a really lovely town.

I was to share the stage with the head the Texas head of Public Health, the School's Dean of Public Policy and others ... it was a big deal.

I impressed upon the school that if they were going to pay for me to come all that way and if they anted the whole story, they should also invite Peter Doliber from Memorial Health University Medical Center.

We were doing great stuff at the time.

So they invited Peter too.

The Lyndon Baines Johnson (LBJ) School is a freaking cool place, especially the replica of his office when he was President!

I was mesmerized by the red phone on his desk with one button on it pressed only to use nuclear bombs to destroy the world.

Anyway, Peter and I killed them that day.

"Well," the Dean said after the session, "you certainly were ..." as he struggles to find the right word, "entertaining."

It was a great day!

It was also a long time ago and a lot's happened since.

Peter's back home in the Northeast being in charge of something and I'm a happily married beach bum coping with three little girls.

But I just spent 30 minutes in an alternative universe feeling those things again.

When Scotty beams me back down I'm full of emotion and wonder if Peter ever thinks about these things.

Isn't it funny how you do nice things for people in life and they don't remember?

Or care.

It's funny in a sad sort of way.

The next thing I know I'm staring at the sunlight illuminating the thousand shades of green dancing in the breeze with tear drops of purple Wisteria falling on them.

Suddenly I'm aware that Neil Young is reminding me that "Yes only love can break your heart."

"Hmmm," I mutter out loud and I wish Sarah was home.

What's wrong with this picture?

The assignment is to make art out of a drawing of a light bulb on a piece of paper.

Students must complete the page within a predetermined period of time because it is one of many skills being tested to gain acceptance into the school's "Gifted" program.

Alas, an artist took too long "creating art."

Instead of quickly drawing a smiley face or a bug inside of the outline ... or even yellow sticks depicting sunbeams, Cassidy took her time creating!

Using the entire page as her canvas to create a hair salon, Cass paints a scene of customer sitting in a chair getting his hair cut by a stylist as another waits her turn.

Colorful bottles line the shelves of the salon establishing a colorful array of "product".

The stylist has a pair of scissors in one hand and "Hair Spray" in the other, wears a necklace, a pink shirt and brown pants.

The customer wears a blue shirt, glasses and, apparently happy with the experience, a broad smile with outstretched arms.

The funniest thing about it are the "institutional"  words on the page encouraging participants to "THINK OUTSIDE OF THE BOX."

Cassidy did that but because she failed to comply with the allotted time constraints, she did not meet the minimum requirements to be accepted into the "Gifted program."

What's wrong with this picture?

I'm not just referring to institutional testing but many of the social, religious, governmental and family "norms" inflicted on people.

Making things great almost always takes longer than anyone ever thinks.

Just like great things are mostly outside of predetermined expectations.

Each of our lives is a blank canvas for us to create the person we wish to become.

Most people ... teachers, preachers, politicians, even those who love us most ... place constraints and their own expectations into the artistic act of "creation."

It's one of the things wrong with the world!

We can never really be ourselves when listening to the demands of others.

I thank God for artists, musicians, renegade preachers, honest politicians (an oxymoron) and family who really do encourage us to be everything we're capable of being!

These are the true heroes in the world!

Not those other leaders ... the teachers, preachers, politicians and family members ... who are all the same.

And to you Cassidy, I say "YOU GO GIRL!"

A Monk-like morning

A cold wind blasts off the ocean cutting right through me as I rush inside The Breakfast Club where the mood is dour and dark.

Everyone is tired from the weekend and sleepily trying to find their footing on this Monday.

The satellite single fades in and out of the 70s station blaring above the grills so words are missing from familiar songs.

"Everybody plays the ... no exception to the ..."

"FOOL Dammit!" EVERYBODY PLAYS THE FOOL!" Jodee screams as he jiggles the wires.

The staff is busy preparing to open and aren't listening as they fill ketchep bottles, fry bacon, restock bread shelves and set tables.

Sitting beside me, John smiles but doesn't say anything.

I shrug my shoulders and sip coffee.

It's a Monk-like morning as the world swirls preparing for work and I sit prayerfully contemplating the universe.

There's nothing I really have to do today.

Except take care of Sarah who isn't feeling well and I dote on her anyway so her upset belly is just another reason to dote more.

We have to decide what to make the girls for dinner tonight but other than that ... I can sit Monk-like with no need to say anything to anybody except God.

"Mutha-fu ..." John mutters as the door opens and one of the most obnoxious customers in the universe takes the stool between us.

Immediately he talks about the weather, John's work and obscenely thrusts his pelvis towards Mindy who is bending over preparing a mornings worth of coffee.

John interrupts him by placing an order.

I ignore him by staring at the newspaper that I've already read lapsing back into morning prayers.

Minutes turn into seconds and John leaves so I'm alone with a man who just can't shut up.

Because he's utterly incapable of remaining silent, he asks, "So what are you doing today?"

This is when I love who I am. I have lots of answers depending on my mood.

If I want to talk I say I'm a writer and that leads to a billion questions.

If I want to confuse him, I say what I'm working on forcing him to think between asking what I'm talking about.

If I want him to shut the Hell up, I play my Baptist Minister card ... "I'm just talking to God today.

We're making plans."

He doesn't know what to say so he pays and leaves.

It works every time.

"ALRIGHT!" Jodee proclaims as Barry White "Can't get enough of your love baby."

Heaving myself up to brace the bitter wind, I salute, say "Goodbye Kiddies" and return home to check on Sarah who's still sleeping.

Meandering into the kitchen I stare out of the sliding glass doors at the leaves dancing in the breeze.

There's nothing to do except wait on God to say what we're doing next.

But I ask that Sarah feels better first.

Then ... it's back to waiting on God.

Awesome you are!

"Awesome you are," is the first message I see on my Facebook page.

My friend Kyle sent it in the middle of the night. I've done some "coaching" with him as he transforms his life into the things he loves rather what others want him to do.

It's a nice way to start the day.

Clicking over to LinkedIn I enter a conversation I started weeks ago. Every day new folks contribute something and I read this from Tim!

"I can honestly say that I have not seen the injustices that you have seen or done half the good things (You know what they say about good intentions); however, I do believe that you were where you were meant to be at those times and that there is no way on Earth you could experience all that and not be changed."

Blown away I have to sit back!

Something special seems to be happening and I try to give it the space it deserves.

I have many friends and family members going through major life changes. Some transformations are wanted though others were completely uninvited. Babies are born, divorces devastate, jobs trap friends into sustaining without enjoying and God is content to keep quiet.

I make time to send these folks love, support and good Karma. They're family or clients and I'm intensely focused on them. As Tim explains, I'm where I am meant to be at this time and the things I'm experiencing keep changing me."

"You blessed many people by your actions or just by being present," is the next message.

I think we are all either a blessing or a curse to one another.

Blessing requires deliberation and action. We get off our ass and do something for someone while cursing means not giving a damn and we don't do anything. I prefer the blessing activities.

"We all are effected in some way by what we experience, it's what choice we make with those changes that determine how we grow and who we are from that point on," is the last part.

I turn the computer off and prop my feet on the railing of the back deck.

Over the past few years, I've had a hand in friends learning from experiences and making choices to change and grow beyond what they've always known. We've communicated, visited and had prolonged conversations where I was the one who believed in them.

I think more than anything else ... what's most important to us ... is too physically and spiritually have someone who believes in us when we struggle to believe in ourselves. We need someone whose "been there and done that" and will hold our hands in the dark places.

The fact of the matter, you are awesome!

Even awesome people need someone to believe in them when they struggle believing in themselves!

It's okay!

Now is the time for you to embrace how awesome you are!

It begins when you start doing things for you! Like having someone who believes in you!

Like now!

A New Journey Begins!

For almost four years I've posted a song title as my status update on Facebook trying to never repeat a title. I immensely enjoy friends responses ... sometimes quoting lyrics, asking questions or searching for hidden messages.

I've also daily posted a blog or Facebook note. This has been enriching as a consistent community of followers was born. You found things to identify with, laugh at or be spurred to debate or discovery.

I went through seismic changes in my life. Suddenly single turned into marvelously married. An empty nest is now full. Countless jaunts to St. Martin dwindled as new destinations emerge. A house became a home. Dead ends are endless possibilities.

Professionally I morphed from successful CEO to full time Beach Bum; international consultant to partnering with my wife Sarah in Micheal Elliott Enterprises "growing hope" for people needing more in their lives through coaching and encouragement.

My 9th book Sandy Bottoms and Duct Taped Hearts is out and the feedback is GREAT!

The 10th, a children's book illustrated by Eddie Woods is being released in a few months. Winston, The Little Gay Dog is a loving look at my family, acceptance in a Judgmental world and being yourself in the end!

Now there are new worlds to explore!

You've followed my changes and accomplishments as I'm pretty transparent about it. It's been cathartic for me and I'm happy you find it encouraging, humorous and useful.

BUT ... All Things Must Pass.

Change blows in the Palm Trees and it's time for them to carry us to new seas!

The daily song titles and postings will soon fade like the setting sun on the Back River.

Replacing them are new opportunities for those seeking inspiration, encouragement, laughter and community!

Like getting married under a full moon on the beach or cliff diving from 45 feet in the Caribbean, it's a little scary but pretty damn exhilarating!  That's how all great things in life start!

So stay with me as this journey!

We're going to have fun!!

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Follow the journey at www.facebook.com/micheal.elliott1 and liking it or at www.meellc.com