Joe Buck III and me (and others)

"Now tomorrow," Joe Buck wrote yesterday, "I want you to focus on just as many good things that Tybee Island has that makes you love the place."

Well Hell!

I've got homework for the first time since I was in school a thousand years ago.

Normally I blow off "special requests" and go wherever the Spirit leads me.

But it's freaking Joe Buck III and I can't blow him off.

Currently Joe is the President of the School Board and was a Dean at Armstrong State University and the head of "Leadership Savannah" ... which is where I met him when in an apparent complete lapse of enforcing admission criteria he let me in.

Through the ensuing years he became a mentor and friend.

When he completely lost his mind and decided to run for President of the School Board I was one of the people he explained why.

Patting him on the back I told him, "That's is great Joe!"

Quietly I thought, "He's lost his frigging mind!"

Since then he's been the greatest School Board President since ... well ... ever!

I owe the man ... A LOT! ... so I got to do what he says and list the things I love about Tybee.

But before I get around to the things I love about Tybee, I can't help but remember when we were graduating from "Leadership Savannah" and we'd already put Joe through a lot ...

we are the only class to be banned from an airline when Dr. Stephen Acuff took over the plane's microphone ...

this was after the previous night when several "Leaders" took over the D.J.'s booth at the sheik Washington D.C. night club "Deja Vu"  led by Fran Howard so we could repeatedly dance to the B52's "Love Shack" ...

and I'd utterly offended our guest speaker the Congressman by asking, "What do you mean Jesus can't be painted as a heroin addict? You don't think Jesus doesn't love addicts?"

Anyway ... we wanted to do something nice for Joe for teaching us leadership skills so Patrick O'Conner, Esq. lead us to get tickets, hotel rooms and primo parking for the Auburn homecoming game.

Joe is a huge Auburn fan!

So we did.

It was the first time Auburn lost a homecoming in ... well ... ever.

I love Joe and almost felt his pain that day.

Now to Tybee ...

But then Joe almost died ... a couple of times ... which scared the hell out of lots of us because he is one of Savannah's special gifts.

It's not so much the city he's impacted but thousands and thousands of its people.

Joe Buck has changed lots of lives and made them better and I'm the first to admit I'm one of them.

That's why I've got to write about the things I love about Tybee Island because it's Joe that asked for God's sake!

Oooops!

Sarah's up.

I gotta go.

The nation of outsiders

My career resembles the movie "Animal House" more than anything else.

I was always an outsider working on behalf of the nation of outsiders. Representing homeless people, people with AIDS, the uninsured and addicts of every kind, we were insanely crazy enough to really believe we could win!

And we did.

I've been surrounded with co-workers as nutty as the Deltas in the movie. Sarah, Diane Reel-Fuller, Keller Deal, Kelly McDaniel, Joe Bridges, Gloria Coleman, Alisa Monfalcone ... an endless parade of absurd believers in love conquering hate, justice reigning supreme, the dead constantly being raised and we really can have heaven on earth.

Talk about unorthodox!

We were crazy.

Memorial Hospital kept sending people back to a homeless shelter because they weren't sick enough to be admitted. I'm sure it had nothing to do with their inability to pay because hospitals are sanctuaries ... places of  healing.

So we kept sending the sick people back to the hospital.

The hospital kept sending them back ... in a cab.

There's a wonderful law in this country that if you go to the Emergency Room and say you're having a heart attack, you receive a complete medical examination on the spot.

So one night, 63 homeless people had heart attacks at the same time.

As crazy as it was to orchestrate such a thing ... it worked.

Afterwards, homeless people received the best health care in the city for a long time and national recognitions rained down on each of us who had anything to do with it.

But it started with a pissed off act of rebellion.

I've got lots of stories like that.

They begin in love mixed with anger ... a combination leading to crazy actions ... all hell breaks loose ... which naturally leads to very successful results.

It's backwards from what we're taught, the opposite of societal norms, shocking to the majority and ... as much as people hate it ... they love it.

We all want to be the radical who proves everyone else wrong.

We know we're "the fool on the hill who sees the sun going down and the eyes in his head sees" ... everything.

Everybody wants to rule the world.

But ... we don't.

We're too scared. We might fail and look silly. People we love will disapprove. We'll feel silly. The truth of the matter is we really couldn't stand heaven if it hit us in the face.

Sarah and I are hard at work ... reinventing ourselves ... again. We're not paying much attention to the things expected of us. Starting a company from scratch, blending families, working from home, traveling anyway, investing everything we have in ourselves ... we're crazy!

In the most wonderful ways.

Anais Nin said, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

To hell with the confines of the world! They're too many of them anyway and they just keep things the same. We were sick of the same. So we're making new.

Yeah it's scary.

But dammit it's fun!

What are you doing today?

______________________________________

♦ Embracing peace in your life! “You are one of the most tormented people I know,” she said. I was at the height of success, living at the beach, working in a beautiful city, having everything I thought I wanted…but she was right. I was miserable and didn’t know why. Then I decided to take a journey inside of myself. Life is too short and I deserved to happily celebrate my life. As much as I wanted to lay the blame at the feet of others, it was my own fault and I needed to know why I prevented myself from enjoying my life. I needed to find peace. And I did. You can find yours.

Sign-up today to participate in the October class by clicking http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/indepthclasses/

Changing Leaders

The letter said all good things come to an end.

It's from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation which is continuing it's current trend of throwing out the old to do something else.

Now they are killing the Community Health Leadership Program.

"Community Health Leaders are an extraordinary group of creative, health care service providers, health advocates and authentic leaders whose work often serves as the catalyst for changes in communities across the U.S."

This comes a few months after that the Foundation also decided to kill the Local Funding Partners Program.

"It was named as one of RWJF's Top 40 Programs, Local Funding Partnerships used community-based interventions to improve the health and health care of underserved and vulnerable populations from 1988 to 2011."

Things that have been extraordinary for decades are now apparently rather ordinary.

"All things must pass," George Harrison taught and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation is continuing to move on to new things under the leadership of a new General.

This is important to me for several reasons. I'm a Community Health Leader, a Local Funding Partner recipient and a member of it's National Advisory Committee.

It's fascinating to see old leaders, answers and solutions done away with by those professing to have better solutions.

That's part of leadership though isn't it?

Knowing when to boldly move in new directions or when to gracefully step aside.  The hardest trait of them all is to allow the new leaders to do new things ... even though they may not be the right things.

It's alright.

Having no choice in these matters, I've moved on to.

"You've come full circle," my fellow Community Health Leader Lucy Hall told me recently as we spoke at Morehouse School of Medicine. "You've reclaimed your roots, helping people who are desperate for help, damn what the leaders tell you."

It's true, now at Micheal Elliott Enterprises I'm all about helping people find hope when they're use to fear. Like my fellow leaders at the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, it's all about moving forward, even if you're left behind.

Don't get me wrong. I am forever indebted to the Foundation. It enriched my life and introduced me to scores of incredible people and wonderful friends. Together, we changed a corner or two of the world.

The Foundation likes to do big things which merit lots of attention so it can continue to be a national leader in the health care world.

I wish them the best.

As for me, it's about one-one-one connections. Finding people where they're at, extending a helping hand to help get them to where they can be is more important.

In the end, as the Talmud says, the world will be changed ... one neighbor at a time.

I believe that's true.

A Sad State of Affairs

Regardless of who runs for office, it's always the Government that gets elected.

So said the Major Prophet George Harrison and yesterday South Carolina put lifetime politician Mark Sanford back Congress. As if Congress couldn't get any worse!

Of course in Georgia Sen. Saxby Chambliss has set off a firestorm by announcing he's not running for re-election and proves it by getting a hole-in-one while playing the President. He no longer has to give a damn about protocol.

So Congressman Jack Kinston is running for U. S. Senate so State Senator Buddy Carter can run for Congress so that Congressman Kingston's brother-in-law State Representative Ben Watson can run for the State Senate.

It's all very incestuous.

I spent decades playing the political games of City Hall, the County Commission, the Georgia State Capitol and in the halls of Congress. These are the things that I learned.

• They're all the same. There is no difference between Republicans and Democrats because they share the same ultimate goal which is to be re-elected or to move to a higher office.
• Libertarians are Republicans who smoke pot.
• The Tea Party movement is comprised of pissed off Republicans who believe wacked out stuff as evidenced by Christine O'Donnell from Delaware who said, "It is not enough to be abstinent with other people, you also have to be abstinent alone. The Bible says that lust in your heart is committing adultery. You can't masturbate without lust! ... You're going to be pleasing each other. And if he already knows what pleases him and he can please himself, then why am I in the picture?"

Please take a moment to shake your head while saying, "Do what?" as you try to make sense out of the above quote.

• Bill Clinton is the greatest recent American President because he balanced the budget, left a surplus, dropped one bomb that never hit anybody and made oral sex popular.
• Congress runs like a Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream store. You take a number, wait to be served and then get your ice cream. Then you must go to the back of the line, get a new number and start over if you want more ice cream. This was explained to me one day by an angry Congressman Jack Kingston after the Lobbyist for Memorial Health University Medical Center asked for more money immediately after receiving some.

I could go on but will conclude by saying I think it's good when Politicians sleep with one another in spite of what the Tea Party movement believes. Because if they're sleeping together, they can start doing to each other what they keep doing to us. And I'm tired of my ass hurting.

Rainbow Promises

Somewhere over the rainbow way up high there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby ...

God promised Noah that he would never again engage in terrorist activities like wiping out all of humanity. In Genesis 9 God must be forgetful because he tells Noah, "Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures."

It's a funny beginning for such a beautiful thing.

God needed a reminder to not drown us all in a flood.

It also makes me wonder about tsunamis. A flood is starting and then the rainbow appears reminding God to not do it so its confined to one geographic area?

These things ran through my mind as I raced home through the marshes yesterday and was witness to one of the most spectacular rainbows I've ever seen.

Cars stopped in the middle of the Bull River Bridge to gawk and take pictures. Though I was in a hurry, I didn't mind. It was a stunning sight, stretching from the waters of the Intercostal Waterway on one side and seemingly ending on top of my house on Tybee Island.

I was rushed because the first ever Tybee Gay Days were taking place and I was picking up Sarah to meet the Carnival of Friends at a "White Party," fundraisers for AIDS research.  Everyone wears white because it "stands for purity. White is elegant, non-political, noon-combative and people just look plain beautiful."

Of course on Tybee this reasoning was butchered.

"If it's whites only," Johnny O explained, "I'm not going. That's racist."

"I look terrible in white," Cheryl said.

"I only have white shorts and I'm not wearing them," my son Jeremy confessed.

Nevertheless we were all going and I was driving back from Savannah when the rainbow appeared in

the sky stopping everyone driving to or from Tybee dead in their tracks.

Of course the rainbow flag is the symbol for Gay Pride and I was speeding back to Tybee Gay Days and God decides this is an excellent time to place a rainbow in the sky so stunningly spectacular that people are stopping to take notice.

Long ago it was a reminder that people will survive, regardless of how high the water rises. I couldn't help but believe that God was using it again as a promise that people, regardless of their sexuality, are finally free and their celebration can begin.

And last night that's precisely what we did.

It's time for you to jump over your fears

I have a friend who surfs.

The thing is, he can't swim.

Another was getting by another year in the 27th unhappy year of her marriage when one day she got in the car and drove to Tybee Island because a friend had made the offer, "You can stay here anytime."

And she spent a year reevaluating herself, her marriage and how she wants to live the rest of her life.

Now she's back home but living on her own terms and even if it doesn't work out right, at least she gave herself the most enjoyable year she's lived so far.

A mother of three small children in upstate New York picked up the phone and called a man she hadn't seen in a decade because he'd once said that she could always come back. So she did. After relocating to the South she's built a new life and the two are very happily married.

Most are scared to do such things. Why in the world would someone who can't swim surf? How does a wife take a year off from her marriage? What possibly motivates a mother of three young children to believe she can successfully have a different life?

After all, we're not supposed to do these kinds of things. They're not acceptable. They are risky. They throw caution to the wind and are outrageous acts of irresponsibility.

The ramifications of taking such steps can be drastic. Parents scold children, Ministers pronounce sins, friends take sides, society pushes you to the outside. You're a black sheep, rebel, outcast or the crazy one in the family. People tell you you're going to hell.

A lot of us want the most out of life. Unfortunately we're too frightened to take the first step, feeling trapped by the choices we've made, the relationships we're in or the jobs we have.

So we never do anything.

I wanted to bungee jump.

Climbing to the top of a massive tower I was strapped in to the cord that would prevent me from crashing onto the ground far below.

"OK," the kid said. "Go for it."

Peering over the edge, the ground was some eighty feet below. The cord was some sixty feet long.

My mouth went dry. A ball of fear suddenly churned in my stomach. My knees shook.

Turning, I looked at a bunch of young girls standing behind me. They were waiting to go next.

"Come on Old Man!" they laughed. "Do it!"

I'm still uncertain what it was. I knew that I wanted to jump believing it would add to my life's experiences. I disliked the girls calling me old and indicating that the foolishness of youth had passed me by. I distained fear taking over my life even for a moment.

So ... like a surfer who can't swim ... an unhappy wife stuck in unhappiness... and a mother of three who wants so much more ... I jumped.

In each case, it's scary as hell and as exhilarating as heaven!

We're all happier and more fulfilled people than we ever could have been without jumping.

Today I'm thinking of all of the people who want to jump from the lives they are living into the one they want so much. But they're scared, feeling stuck and choosing to allow unhappiness and unfulfilled lives to continue.

I want to tell them.

"It's alright. JUMP!"

A Career Interlude

It's a muted Monday... not a manic one.

A blanket of clouds holds the warmth of the day and last night's rains washed away the sins of the past. The ocean is calm but there is a restlessness beneath the waters that swell and roll yet never break the surface.

But it is there and I can feel it.

I'm running on the sand as the sun sticks its head out of the blanket of clouds throwing diamonds on the water. The rolling restlessness is accentuated by the glare of the day.

Reaching down I grab a belly full of fat and it is soft in my hand. A few weeks ago it was hard and I wasn't able to do it. I am literally changing. I'd stopped running and it ended up not being a good thing so I'm back at it and all of the positive things are returning. My legs are strong again, the breathing is regular, the sweat is good and the contemplation is healthy. I'm feeling and looking like myself again.

It's as if I'm training for something.

In the movie "The Exorcist" an overweight detective finds a Priest running around a track and stops him.

"Have --- have we met?" asked the Jesuit.

"No Father. No but they said you look like a boxer ..."

That scene has stuck with me through the years.

A Priest is in training for things that Seminary could never prepare him for. Deep inside he knows to train for something, though God only knows what and God's not sharing. So in spite of the comforts of his religion and the safety of his church he has a rolling restlessness inside. There is more to come in his life though he has no idea what, so he prepares himself as best he can.

Laying in bed last night, I listened to the rain fall. The windows were open and I could see the silhouettes of Palm Trees dancing in the wind. It had been a wonderful day, full of love and celebration but I lay in the darkness tossing and turning thinking about work. Professionally I am restless. There is so much more for me to give.

My career is in-between things. After an incredibly successful and endeavors in most everything so far ... I've dabbled in consulting and spent a wonderful year with the International Street Medicine Institute helping build a foundation for it. I've been writing and reconnecting with my spirituality.

Personally, Sarah and I are making a home and weaving new things out of old which has been wonderful. We celebrate daily and look forward to everything we're doing and going to do. The Carnival of Friends are terrific and island life remains holy and happy. The personal side of life is the best its ever been!

Professionally though it feels like an interlude. ACT I of my career was a blast though it's now plainly over. I've been waiting in the wings for ACT II to get started. I am ready! Sarah's ready! Our partners are ready!  Lot's of people are anticipating what's coming!

So I prepare myself as best I can, rolling with the restlessness that's just below the surface of creativity and the joys that come from making the world a better place.

Soon, unexpectedly and before I'm totally ready, it will break free and we're going to surf the wild and wonderful ride of the career ahead of us.

When I Grow Up

During my last Semester in Seminary, they did a magazine of how great the place was and who they thought the great up and coming great "Preachers" were.

I was one.

There was a picture of me, wearing blue jeans and a corduroy jacket, dark shirt and sock tie. My hair was long and I had a full beard. I looked part Cowboy/part Hippy. I was talking to a homeless guy and appear very serious.

It's a black and white photograph though every other picture in the magazine is in color. There is an image of Bill Berry, not the former drummer for REM but the other one, looking pious and holy as he kneels in a tiny prayer closet. (Seriously, it was a closet under the stairs someone stuck a Bible on a stand with a place to kneel. The Baptist are serious about their prayer!)

Bill later confessed it was a poised picture. He was graduating too and they thought he would amount to something because he'd won the Clyde T. Francisco preaching award and looked like Neil Young. He didn't do all that praying. That was public relations. It was poised. But they always liked Bill best.

I'm not saying I was discriminated against but that was one happy place when I graduated.

Anyway, I went on to have a great run as a "Professional Christian". I got invited to a lot of cool churches, ate a lot of food on Wednesdays, was a speaker at the Southern Baptist Convention in New Orleans and drank beer out of plastic red tea glasses like everyone else because we didn't want anyone to know we were drinking.

I was successful but as I turned 30, I didn't want to do it anymore.

The Baptists were again very happy about this turn of events.

For the next 23 years I worked transforming a homeless shelter in a multi-million company. We developed housing, health care, employment services, opened a restaurant and a Farmer's Market. I got invited to a lot of cool places, stayed in nice hotels, drank wine out of wine glasses and was in the paper a lot. I won awards, got asked to serve on the Chamber of Commerce Board and was a member of the CEO Council.

I was successful but in my early 50s, I didn't want to do that anymore.

A lot of people of all faiths led by Jerry Rainey, the Board Chair who chooses to remain anonymous, were extremely happy by this turn of events.

Then I wanted to be Jimmy Buffett but the job was already taken.

My friend, the very famous Dr. Jim Withers, asked me to him with the International Street Medicine Institute. We went to a lot of cool places, squatted under some of the finest bridges in America which also double as housing (aren't you glad your taxes go to build bridges so people can live under them) and visited a lot of hospitals. My main job was to fight off all of Jim's groupies.

Then it was time to move on again though Jim wasn't especially happy with this decision.

I think I finally understand the problem.

I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

There is no doubt whatsoever I will be successful at it given my track record!

If only I knew what it was.

Time to get to work on it.

Facing me

I keep changing.

David Bowie keeps running through my head. "Every time I thought I got it made, it seemed the taste was not so sweet. So I turned my myself to face me..."

It was about five years ago that I actually turned myself to face me.

When I did it was time for a change.

Let me tell you something. Change is damn hard. That's why so many people hate it.

The first thing I knew was that I didn't want to do what I did for a living any more. I was tired of it and there really wasn't much more I could do there. I told everyone so and not one damn person offered any words of encouragement or support.

It's one of the reasons change is so hard.

Nobody supports it.

But the funniest thing happened.  Though I went along with the crowd and stayed, subconsciously I worked myself out of the place. It took a year-and-a-half but at some level that I wasn't even aware was of, I was orchestrating the change.

When it finally happened, I was where I wanted to be in St. Martin with friends, far away from the shocked people and the press.  I was just as shocked but it was done and there was no going back.

At first, my response was "What the hell have I done?" and "How could other people have done this to me?" but the truth was it was what I'd wanted for a long time.

Running along the beach this morning, the tide was low and calm. Grey clouds hung low in the sky making the morning mute. White seagulls rested on the dark grey sand looking like a cluster of candles. Two little boys played on boogie boards in the surf. I am happy and content.

In the distance I see a friend running my way. He turns and runs beside me and we chat. Somewhere in the panted conversation he says, "You made all the right decisions Micheal. You just didn't know you were making them. Look at you know! You're running the beach on a lovely Monday and then heading home to lovely Sarah."

I laughed and he patted me on the back before we went in separate directions.

Last week I was introduced at the Moorehouse School of Medicine in Atlanta where I was giving a speech. It's always interesting when I'm introduced because it's like hearing your obituary. Life's highlights are reviewed. The audience was impressed.

I'm proud of my past. I've done a lot and think the world's a better place because of it. I really don't have any regrets. It's all worked out the way it's supposed to.

And I'm much better because of it.

I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Staring over at the bag of charcoal on the beloved back deck where I'm working. A happy man is on the bag grilling out. "Ready faster and burns longer."

"Yep," I say out loud. "Just like me."

Making myself grateful

Even when you do unto others as you would have them do to you ... it pisses somebody off.

For the most part I really try to live this way. If someone asks me for something I'm usually predisposed to give it to them unless I can't.

I'm pretty quick to respond to people who want to talk to me.

I try not to leave things undone.

I don't mind initiating communication with others even though I haven't heard from them in forever and I know they can't just as easily pick up the phone and text me.

I don't know why I'm this way but I am. It's in my DNA. It's a core set of beliefs in my faith. Jesus is the one who said to treat others as you want to be treated and I was raised on Jesus so its pretty ingrained. Sometimes I've given far more of myself than I should but I really don't know any other way to live.

That's not to say I haven't met my fair share of assholes because I know a few that are in that Hall of Fame. I don't enjoy encountering these people though I try to keep my distance. When I do see them I try to be mature and take the high road.

I wasn't always like this. I've told some folks off and on a couple of occasions got so angry I demanded them to do something to themselves that is anatomically impossible. It didn't make me feel any better and certainly didn't help the situation.

Plus I've seen a lot of people get treated pretty shitty by the Church, the government, their bosses, co-workers, families and, often times, themselves. I tried to be pretty nice to them because I wanted them to be pretty nice to me too. Most times they were.

I like myself the way I am these days. Oh I need to drop a few pounds and eat better and such but I'm pretty comfortable with me.

It's funny too. I spent decades doing things for others on a pretty grand scale. For the last three years though I've been pretty focused just on me. Sarah is my partner and I am so grateful for the gift of her on my life. She wants what is best for me and is pretty veracious about it. And she's beautiful to watch when she's doing it.

There's a tiny collection of friends too who have been wonderfully consistent and celebratory about most everything. They have their own struggles and issues but there is a wonderful chemistry when we're together that embodies love, concern and laughter.

I've got my own worries too. Baby always needs a new pair of shoes and money must always be made or things get rough.

But for now anyway, I have this gift of time when its just Sarah and me, the kids and our little Carnival of friends. There are lots of hours to think, pray, write and hope. There is a sense that something else is coming and it's going to be big! This is a time of  getting ready though I'm not real certain about everything we're getting ready for.

So I make myself be grateful for this time. For the wonderful place we live. For birds singing, friends laughing, the smell of the marsh and the sound of the sea are the foundations of my life. So I thank and will do my best to do well by them again today.

Winston, the little gay dog, on Marriage

Winston, the little gay dog, is watching CNN very intently. Sitting on top the sofa in the sunshine wearing a sweater vest with the words "Homophobic is soooo last Millennium" he yips at Goddess to keep quiet. Goddess could care less and continues licking herself.

On CNN, Supreme Court Judges are debating whether to legalize gay marriage or punt it to the states. They're acting just like Republicans and Democrats not getting anything done at all. Clarence Thomas appears to be wearing headphones and could be listening to the "Theme from Shaft" while the others debate.

"You do it. I'm not  going to do it."

"Well, you'd better do it because I'm not going to do it."

"What about Proposition 8?"

Clearly fed up Chef Justice Roberts exclaims, "Proposition this!" and does his best imitation of Michael Jackson.

On the floor is a sign that Winston, the little gay dog, has been working on. I read it.

"Once gay marriage and marijuana are legal, I'm not inviting any of you against it to the wonderful parties I'll be throwing."

Placing it back on the floor, I stare at Winston, the little gay dog, who is obviously irritated and he ignores me and continues watching the debate in disgust.

In support, I sit down beside him.

Goddess stops licking herself and joins us. Winston, the little gay dog, steps on the remote control and changes the channel.

Joel Osteen is talking now. "Homosexuality is a sin. I didn't choose to be straight."

We all look at one another pondering what in the hell that means?

Winston, the little gay dog, steps on the remote again.

Warren Buffet is talking. "The average wedding cost $25,000. Allowing gay marriage would stimulate the economy in a way the Government never could."

We all nod.

The television set is turned off and Winston, the little gay dog, starts licking where his balls used to be. Goddess stretches and meanders outside.

After contemplating both of them for a moment, I opt to follow Goddess outside.

The Road to Equality

Sitting in the sunshine of the immaculately landscaped private courtyard, Mills B. Lane IV and I munched M&M's from a Crystal Bowl that sat in his lap. We'd finished a lunch of left-overs inside of his lavish home on Pulaski Square --- half filled bottles of Champaign, cold duck, salad and pieces of French Baguettes --- as we talked business.

I was working to expand Phoenix Place, Savannah's residential facility for people with AIDS, and Mills had been a long term investor in the work.

Now that work was complete, we sat in the sunshine. I'd kicked off my shoes and he giggled.

"You know what I like about you Mike? You know how to dress for Savannah heat."

I was wearing my summer work clothes of Cargo pants, a black tee shirt and loafers with no socks. Mills had on seersucker pants, a white cotton shirt and brogans.

Shrugging my shoulders I didn't know what to say and remained quiet. He smiled, closed his eyes and tilted his head into the sun. I stared at him.

He'd been a good friend to the work and to me. In addition to funneling money to expand the AIDS program, Mill's included me at the many parties he threw, introducing other potential supporters and at events he privately sponsored throughout the city.

Savannah was still in the closet in those days and I was helping knock the door open. We provided office space to "First City Network", the emerging gay and lesbian organization. When Phoenix Place opened it was a coming out party for the city's gay community and ended up being quiet the celebration.

As the Supreme Court works through the process of recognizing marriage for anyone who happens to be in love, regardless of their sex, I find myself remembering Mills and those days.

I always thought the AIDS work would be highly controversial in sleepy old "Slow-vannah" as it had been when we opened Glade House in Louisville, Kentucky a few years earlier. But it never was.

It took me forever to understand why. The city's gay population was huge and so many families had already been touched by AIDS. So Phoenix Place was accepted from the start and Mills wrote a check for $30,000 to help finish it.

Today "First City Network" is an established and thriving organization. Savannah's gay and lesbian community is no longer hidden and openly celebrates the diversity of this community. Phoenix Place is the regions dominate provider of services for people now living with AIDS.

Like many other things in Savannah, these things wouldn't have happen without Mills.

A few weeks before he died at the age of 59, I received a note from him instructing me to take his name off the mailing list and thanking me for everything we'd done together. Typical Mills, he didn't want me to waste a newsletter.

On this eve of historical movement towards equality, I'm going to find a half empty bottle of Champaign and toast Mills B. Lane IV, proud of how far we've come.

Another not-so-great idea?

I've had a lot of brilliant ideas that turned out to be not-so-great.

Driving to Union Mission one morning I heard the Red Cross begging people to donate blood. There was a critical shortage.

I'm a helper at heart and this got me to thinking. At Union Mission I was in charge of housing several hundred mostly homeless people. What if they all donated blood at the same time? Certainly that would get the Red Cross through the crisis! Homeless people would contribute to society. Everybody would feel good.

I called some friends and a couple of days later a bus was in the parking lot with nurses, chairs designed for blood donors, orange juice and fruit. A few hundred were excited to roll up their sleeves and give (which is no small feat for homeless people who often sell their blood to make ends meet when they have no ends).

Then I was told by the Chief Nurse that it was against their policy to accept blood donated by homeless people. It could be compromised.


I had a fit but it didn't matter. After a few hours the bus pulled out of the parking lot and the opportunity was lost.

Another great idea gone bad.

In a similar vein I thought it would be a good idea if homeless people voted. Everyone else seems to have a political block so why not them? I didn't care if they were Republicans or Democrats.

It is far easier to get homeless people registered to vote than it is to donate blood. A few hundred were registered and the local press covered it liberally.

Several days later I was with then Mayoral candidate Otis Johnson who was in a close race. At a political forum hosted by the Chamber-of-Commerce, there were lots of business folks present. Otis asked for our support so I told him I could deliver the homeless vote.

He received this information with a mixture of gratitude and bewilderment.

A few weeks later he won the race by a few hundred votes. Every time he saw me afterwards, the Mayor thanked me for the homeless vote. For those who understand how politics actually works, this came in quite handy several times.

Another great idea gone not-so-bad!

The point is I keep trying.

So should you because you never know if its really a good idea until you try.

Climbing Zen

One of the ways that I've changed or grown is I'm much more Zen like than I used to be. Maybe I'm simply as laid back as it gets. Nothing much rattles me any more. I rarely get angry as its just not worth the energy and hardly ever helps. When things happen I have a tendency to let them. I absorb whatever is going on around me.

It certainly wasn't always this way. I was driven, intense, righteous and knew exactly what I wanted and when I wanted it. Patience was a foreign and unwanted concept. If anyone could change the world, it was me. I attacked life determined to mold it into the things I wanted.

A lot of things happened.

I accomplished everything I wanted only to have it become too much to handle so it handled me. Like a Shepherd with too big a herd, or a Master with too many slaves, I lost control. The things I loved scattered like sheep and the things I did my best to hold on to rebelled, ultimately fleeing away.

At first, I was full of emotion, uncontrolled and wild, tossing and turning like a ship without a rudder on a stormy sea. This led to anger and blame which finally gave way to a silent acceptance that ... this is my life.

I grew contemplative, almost prayerful, taking notice of the things I still had ... Goddess, a back deck, a sad little holy dock, my children and a handful of friends.

During this time I discovered, or rediscovered, new friends ... Fran, long dead, returned and taught me green again. The Internet spewed up lost friends from my past. The handful of friends miraculously transformed themselves into a perpetual carnival. Sarah came home.

It changed me.

In reality I think I just accepted the change. I embraced it, dancing ... absorbed it which is the way of Zen.

Sarah reminds me that some of the old ways still stick to me, remaining part of who I am. I remain quick to do things for others in real time, often at her expense or mine. I easily slide into another world, exclusive of others, often facilitated by music, writing or staring at the stars. There is a tendency for me to go to places I've already been rather than opting new adventures.

And the things she says are mostly true but I am very mindful of the struggles of people I care for and balance it with quiet contemplation. Every day is a new adventure and last year we visited places I'd never been, learning new things though I do hold on to favorite places and things.

I accept them ... absorb them ... see where they take me ... feel how they change me ... knowing full well that when I finally finish the climb to the top of the mountain, or fall to the bottom of it again, there is only one thing left to do.

Keep climbing!

Because there is no other alternative.

This is my world

"You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you. You are a world."

So says my favorite author Frederick Buechner and I think he means the same thing Jesus did when he said, "Take up your cross" which means take up your own life, and everything and everyone in it, and carry on.

Of course no one, not even Jesus himself, can carry it all without help. Jesus stumbled and someone named Simon was told to help him and did.

It's not who you thought would have helped. His friends were all in hiding, denial or scared shitless for their own selves. I think Jesus wondered about this too and by the time he was hanging on the cross that he'd carried he screamed out, "Where the hell is everybody and that includes you God!"

Then he died.

And he took it all with him to that cross, his mother, the most trusted friends, all the fair faced Hosanna singers hung there with him in his heart, his mind and stomach. In the end it was just him alone and his last words said as much. "Where in the hell is everybody?"

In the same way it is our lives that we carry, and sometimes it makes us stumble and on occasion, if we're lucky someone appears to carry it a bit for us because it's too damn much for us to endure sometimes.

The betrayals, the divorces, deaths, unrealized potential and lost opportunities all gash at the beauty of the thing ... this life that we're gifted with. And just like Jesus, every single one of us cry out in pain and hurt, "Where in the hell is everybody?" because everybody ... the ones we loved and believed in with everything inside loved us, those we thought to be better, a few who promised that they would always be there ... were gone.

And we are alone.

When Jesus makes his next appearance, he's mistaken for the gardener. Dirty straw hat and coveralls, dirt under his fingernails make him so unrecognizable to those who loved him still, he has to tell them ... "It's me"  though they all had a hard time believing it. Some eventually came around but a lot never did.

It's that way with us too. At least for me it is. I have a small group who still believe in me though I'm nothing like I was.

He's not the same of course. No one who lives through such things are. He wasn't and we aren't either. The ones who love me do so for who I am and not for what I can do because I can't do much anything like I used to be able to pull off. But there is a peace that I've never had before, a smile that erupts from my heart and not from the affirmation of others. I'm not certain of what's next but I'm not frightened or worried ... it'll work out ... I been through worse.

Flowers are blooming on the back deck, in defiance of a cold spell, promising of this new life. Sarah has ordered a new table and chairs to accommodate us all for dinners, talks and conversations on it. The winter passes away and the days grow longer. This is my world. I've lived through too damn much to get to it.

Everything beautiful that life has to offer

Sean, Wen and I were at the table just talking after a morning meeting. Sarah had rushed away to a lunch in town giving the three of us time to simply be together. We communicate most every day but hadn't had the chance to just sit for a while so nobody was in a hurry.

The topics varied but the major theme was acceptance. Life's rarely what we thought. Plans went array, wolves nip at heels and God prefers strange silence when we desperately need to know things. If you don't accept it then you're immediately overwhelmed what you can't control.

"Security is an illusion," is how Sean summed it up.

Later I was at Bernie's collecting my thoughts and preparing for the afternoon but found myself preoccupied. Amber is the daughter of Bill Berry (not the former drummer for REM but the other one; the one I love and have shared many an adventure with!). She's an amazing girl, beautiful and talented, a graduate of Savannah College of Art & Design, now back home in Richmond, Virginia.

She writes a blog ... "Live. Laugh. Lymphoma" ... that chronicles her diagnoses and treatment with Hodgkins Lymphoma. It's just "your every day, twenty-something girl, enjoying everything beautiful that life has to offer." (http://livelaughlymphoma.blogspot.com/2013/02/chemo-3-inspiration.html )

Just a few months ago she was happy and healthy, making her way through life when the cards she was dealt suddenly changed everything. Security is indeed an illusion. Yet Amber's first response was to say, "Well maybe I can be a mentor to the kids going through treatment."

Did I mention that Amber's amazing?

In the mornings, I check to see if she's posted anything and when she does I have a glimpse of what she's going through. It's pretty humbling ... especially if I'm worried about the cost of repairing the air conditioner at the rental house or why the contract at work is taking so damn long to close.

What we have is here and now. The people we have in our lives are the ones who are here. God's response to our demands to know why or how or when is a quiet affirmation of it is what it is. You're where you're at ... with who you're with ... with both opportunities and obstacles. Do with it what you will. It's all you've got.

The question is what are you going to do today?

Enjoy everything beautiful that life has to offer you?

Or settle for something less?

The Agony of the "To-Do" list

If I still had a conventional job like I did at Union Mission and at the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel,  I'd call in sick today.

It's one of those days.

I'm not in the mood.

Not that I know what kind of mood I'm in because I don't. I'm just not in the mood to do all of the things on my "to do" list today.

Apparently I AM in the mood to lock Winston, the little gay dog, outside in 39 degree weather. It's funny watching him jump up and down trying to turn the latch on the sliding glass doors to let himself inside. With all of that jumping he's got to be warm and its hilarious watching him head butt the glass to no avail.

I get back to work instant messaging Sean and now have the things necessary to cross the first thing off the "to-do" list but ... it's   time  for a break so I pour myself a large glass of Sparkling water heavily spiked with lime juice.

I need more motivation to plow through the things I have to accomplish. This leads to a great deal of introspection on my part. Finally I determine that Neil Young and the Shocking Pinks will enable me be inspired and sit back down at the computer.

Winston, the little gay dog, is now laying by the door giving me the sad, "what did I do to deserve this?" look.

I review my "to-do" list again. It's really not that long. Last week I worked everyday we were traveling,  crawling out of bed before the sun came up and stumbling to the Lido Deck for coffee. After writing the blog, I'd flip through the social media channels, manage email and work on media plans. So I stayed pretty current while sailing the Caribbean. It's the beauty of the world today. If you're disciplined you can work from mostly anywhere.

Besides, it's President's day.

All of the Presidents are off. I actually think its better when President's are off. The more they're off, the safer we are. You know what I'm saying?

Winston, the little gay dog, has gotten Goddess to stand beside him scratching the door for me to let them in.

Sighing, I walk over, open the door and she gleefully rushes past me. Winston, the little gay dog, slowly prances in giving me the evil eye wearing his black sweater with pink ruffles with the words "Gay Republicans came out of their log cabins."

Sitting back down I type a few things, hit send and cross the first thing off the "to-do list. It's tough being the President of a company.

Wait a minute!

It is President's day.

It wouldn't work though. I need to collect more of the bastards! You know what I'm saying? So sadly, it's back to the "to-do" list.

At least until Winston, the little gay dog, wants to go back outside.

Happy Friday

It is Friday and everyone is ready for the weekend. People are trying their best to finish up what must be done while others have mentally checked out. A lucky few have already started and the not so fortunate others have full work days ahead as they gear up.

As a kid, I loved Fridays!  School's Out! Football games followed by date nights. Sundays were for asking for forgiveness.

In college Friday after glass meant road trips! We'd pack in someone's car, head to the beach or the city and party like its 1999. (Of course this was way before 1999.) I think the best road trip I remember, and let me be honest ... I don't remember many, was to Atlanta to see George Harrison in concert and afterwards hanging out with a bunch of Hari Krishna kids singing and playing tambourines.

In Seminary I was polishing off Sunday's Sermon. Hold up in my office in the inner city of Louisville, Kentucky, I started typing them out in advance though I never exactly stuck to the script when I delivered them. This is where I learned to speak and write but Friday's weren't all that great while I sat there waiting on God to tell me what to say.

Throughout my career at Union Mission, Friday became escape day. Get it down and get away! Beach weekends or road trips with the kids to Athens for football, it was the gateway for family time. My now adult kids still view it this way.

These days, I live somewhere between a virtual world and a real one. Living at our beachhouse and working throughout the world at the same time means the days blend together. It's more of a routine that must be kept. Get up, coffee at the Breakfast Club, drive the girls to school, a three mile run and then work, mostly on the computer or on the phone. Travel is the only disruption but where we are has no real impact on the routine.

But I never have to remind myself that its Friday.

It is the "Day of Venus" the Roman Goddess of love. Even if you're not a pagan, there's something nice about Friday belonging to love.

In Greek it's a day of preparation ... to ask for forgiveness on Sunday. The Greeks liked to plan ahead.

So lets dive in shall we?

Happy Friday!

Oh ... and forgive yourself on Sunday.

Just between you and me

There is nothing to do except sit and wait.

It can be hard work waiting on the words to come.

Sometimes they come in the middle of the night and the morning is jump started. Some stories can't wait to be told. Occasionally its a line from a song (always playing in the background of my life), a phrase from a book I'm reading or a Michael Ruffin prayer that bring them to me.

On rare occasions I close my eyes and place my fingers on the keyboard and see what happens.

Then there are days like today. I sit and wait. I've learned to not rush it.

Watching the sun rise I'm surrounded by "the holy host of others" ... Fran and her thousand shades of green ... the Palm Tree with the oyster face, coconut bra and grass skirt ... a "Clothing Optional" sign that Conner gave me ... Winston, the little gay dog and Goddess of course.

Sarah sleeps and I'm dutiful about checking to make sure she's not interrupted. Her three little girls can wear your ass out.

Staring out the sliding glass doors, these things go in and out of focus. My mind races with images. Brynn Grant and I saw each other yesterday and she sprinkles delight even while pumping gas.

My mentor Ben Barnes, white napkin stuffed under his chin and pants pulled high around his waste, talking to me at lunch about how the older you get the more people forget about you.

Suzanne Mendonsa speaking to Ben and then warmly recognizing me, "Oh Micheal, it's been so long. How are you?" and the way she said it warmed my heart while unleashing many memories of her and her late husband Don.

Watching Sarah's parents meet my son Jeremy for the first time as they crawled out of bed and he and I stood in this kitchen looking like Hippies making each other laugh. Sarah's youngest Cassidy hauls herself out bed, blond hair askew from the pillow, ignores her Mom and grandparents to walk straight to Jeremy and lay her head against his stomach.

Getting a phone call from one of my illegitimate kids, Mary Catherine Berry, yesterday as to tell me that Bill's father had died. My heart broke for Bill, Micah, Kathy and Amber and I drove the car, sailing across the marsh in bright sunshine. I can still hear Mr. Berry on the phone when he discovered it was me, "Mike Yes! You need to talk to Bill. Bill needs to talk to you," and the rustling and excitement until Bill was on the phone.

The glaze washes away from my eyes. They are now moist as I wipe them.

There are no stories today.

No great inspiration.

There are these prayers just between God and me.

What Sundays are for

The sun erupts from the sea as a lone bird sings solo unseen in Fran's thousand shades of green. The ocean breeze has died and it seems warmer than it really is. Staring in prayerful contemplation through the sliding glass doors it is a Silent Morning, Holy Morning ... all is calm, all is bright.

My morning routine has been disrupted though. I swung by and picked up my son Jeremy for coffee at The Breakfast Club. We enjoy hanging out and I view it as a gift when we have the opportunity which grows rarer as life gets in the way. He'll be back in a bit to say goodbye to Sarah and the girls before he heads home to Marie.

Last night we were at my daughter Chelsea's engagement party. It's even rarer that she and I spent time together as she's busy building her own life. "Life's a gift," I'm fond of saying and I'm proud to have been part giver in hers.

Kristen brought Sterling and I'm always mindful when I'm with all of my kids at the same time because it happens less and less.

To make it better, my Mom was there and Jodee and Cheryl and Chelsea's friend Busby whom I love.

Topping it off were oysters, cooked the old fashion way over a fire pit and under a wet croaker sack. Steam was rising while stars winked and laughter bubbled around.

I hide these things in my heart this morning as Sarah still sleeps. Her parents are downstairs visiting from New York and the girls are with them. I'm trying to be quiet out of respect but still am listening to The Pirate out of Key West where my friend Joey Finch lives. It is my Sunday morning tradition and I am warmed on winter days.

I don't know what today holds.

It's a gift that I plan on enjoying.

Goddess wanders in and lays under my bare feet dangling from the table. She sighs loudly which makes me laugh.

"Let it out and let it in," I think, quoting The Beatles.

That's why God made Sundays. Let everything in the past go. Let everything in the now in.

"Amen," I say out loud as I hear little girls whispers down stars.