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!

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.

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

The Ingridents for Happiness

Love is rare
Life is strange
Nothing lasts
People change

These lines from a wonderful song, "Old Friend" performed by Michael Feinstein, is beautifully melodious and sang as though one friend talks to another.

They're in a bar after one's relationship falls apart and the other is listening to the sad tale.

Everything sung in the chorus is an absolute truth!

Love comes and goes, bursts into brilliance or burns out slowly, sometimes lingering forever or may abruptly leave. You have to "Make Love", meaning it takes two which is tricky because often it's only one working on it while the other takes advantage. One day you wake up and realize you really are in love or ... you've merely been taken advantage of. Love really is rare.

Life is certainly strange. Just when you think you've figured it out you're jerked in another direction. It's chock full of surprises, unexpected opportunities and tragic things. Sometimes it's funny, boring, hurtful, lonely, or shocking though it has a definite ending that catches us all by surprise. None of us know how much life we have so no one's prepared when it stops.

Nothing last! "All things must pass," sang the Major Prophet George Harrison. Sunrises, sunsets, days, weeks, and years all slip away. Friends don't last, marriages end one way or another, churches go out of business, Governments crumble, the binding in books crack and stars and planets eventually die.

For sure, people change. I'm not who I once was though there's a funny quirk that I  think everyone else should stay the same. We don't! The best of us grow and keep at it right up until we die. Others get stuck even as they long for something different. Change takes courage, the ability to throw caution to the wind and a hearty dose of foolishness. The funny thing is even if we work out hardest to keep everything as it is, people still change.

But ... love ... life ... appreciating what we've got ... the friends we have ... those are the ingredients for happiness.

The trick is mixing them in the right proportions.

The other trick is to keep baking new cakes. You've got to always be mixing and remixing your love, life, accepting what and where you're at, and knowing who your friends are ... or unhappiness grows.

Take a moment now and do an inventory. Who do you love? What's strange about your life? What are the things important to you these days? Who are your friends?

Then throw in pinches of yourself and mix your happiness for today.

And do it again tomorrow!
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There still time to register for "Doing the Right Things for you" my online class that begins in December. Just click to www.meellc.com/onlineclass

How will you enjoy today?

Sometimes you simply sit and stare.

Inside but somehow outside of yourself.


Staring through the open sliding glass doors at a glorious sun illuminating the water dripping from the trees, I'm just thinking.

There are no words ... just thoughts and emotions.

I'm focused on people I love.

Sarah tells me I love everybody, meaning it critically and as a warning. You're not supposed to love everybody because they screw you in the end and that's true of lots of people.

And I've certainly been screwed ... and it hurt ... and they left not giving a damn ... blaming me somehow ... and those I thought cared didn't ... and I was shocked at who did!

But the truth of the matter is I'm a Daydream believer.

I imagine and don't think I'm the only one.

I'm a fool, for Christ's sake, but there's wisdom in there somewhere if we really are Daydream believers, meaning we're honored and dishonored in life.

I've certainly been both.

But that's life! It's what you do with it that matters most.

God made life, gave it to us and now it's ours to do with what we want.

Or to not do anything with it.

Sarah's away visiting her parents in New York so everything is a bit out of sorts. The dogs understand somehow because they follow me closely whenever I move. The house is too quiet. It's just a house when she's not here. I'll be glad when she gets home though I'm glad she and the girls are having a good time.

Johnny O interrupts these thoughts with a barrage of text messages. He's asking about my son Jeremy though it quickly dissolves into really bad humor that has me roaring in laughter.

Ah, it's a good day to do good things, as my friend Dicky Trotter says.

I'm going to enjoy it.

I hope you enjoy yours too.
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Join the Journey that begins in December 2013 to "Do the right things for you!"

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Growing Hope

Reading the back cover of my new book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts, she says I'm a "Renegade beach bum at heart," and laughs.

Sipping coffee I nod enjoying the moment.

A twenty-something blond waitress, she's recently returned to school and struggles with the structured, regimented bureaucracy that is American education.

Suddenly serious she reads I "spent 30 years in the non-profit world successfully fighting homelessness, AIDS, mental health, substance abuse, health care and government bureaucracy."

"Where did you do these things?"

"Here," I absentmindedly shrug.

"What did you do?" she presses. 

"Oh I was at Union Mission," I mumble.

Her eyes grow wide. "Grace House? Phoenix Place? The Starfish Café? The freaking J. C. Lewis Health Center! You did those things?"

"I used to do those things," I explain.

She places the book in front of me saying, "I want to buy but a book I don't have any money right now."

I smile nodding my head. I wish I could give them away but I can't.

Sarah and I are hard at work starting new things taking our experiences and life lessons helping others grow hope in their lives. The book is one way though there are topical classes, workshops, speeches and personal coaching too.

Starting new things is hard work. Creating something out of our experiences and life lessons seems daunting. We know everything's going to work because we have faith, passion and love for what we're doing. Actually it's already working because people tell us how they've benefitting. Hope has grown in specific and concrete ways and they're trying their own new things!

Besides as the saying goes, "Don't fear failure so much that you refuse to try new things. The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have ... might have ... should have" (Louis Boone).

"Hey," she says interrupting these thoughts, "I got the money. Can I buy a book now?"

Greedily she grabs it throwing bills on the table with a smile making a choice to instantly invest in herself.

"Thank you," I say watching her walk away towards her own new thing.
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Purchase your copy of "Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts" at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

Life outside of the box

Is the money I make worth the price that I pay? asked Graham Nash.

I vividly remember sitting in the floor in front of the television when The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan with my Dad complaining, "They'll never be Elvis.

"And in the end ..." they were more than Elvis.

Of course there would be no Beatles without Elvis.

He came first.

The only people to come close to them since are Michael Jackson and Bob Marley.

Each were incredible trailblazers leaving massive imprints on the world. Each doing what they wanted, achieving unimagined success, becoming imprisoned by it and killing four of the six before their time.

Their music remains and annually they outsell the newest stars making today's best sounds.

It makes me wonder.

All of them stepped outside of the box, forfeiting societal norms and the expectations of others to do their own thing.

And they did their own things magnificently!

So I wonder why the rest of us aren't doing our own thing?

We spend our days and nights doing other peoples things.

Going to work, taking care of parents, fulfilling the demands of religion, living in a certain place because the schools are better for the kids, working the allotted number of years before retirement ... we become indentured servants waiting on our happiness and freedom to arrive later.

When do happiness and freedom arrive?  We can all tell stories of those who do all the right things, meet each demand, fulfill every obligation, make the sacrifices to retire ... only to die soon afterwards.

I've done my time, gave others everything, met the demands, raised the kids, fulfilled expectations and ... jumped ship.

Sarah jumped too.

We washed up on a beach, tattered, torn, hurting and alone so we did what creatively, desperate people do ... shared sandy kisses. We had Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts!

We've made a life outside of the box since then.

We're making a career outside of the box too.

And we're doing it all wrong.

We're too young.

We're investing in us now instead of later.

We're having fun.

Elvis died too young. So did John and George. The King of Pop too. Certainly Bob Marley did.

Who knows how much time we have left?

I just know I not giving mine away anymore except to the things most important to me! Not to anyone else!

Life's better outside of the box.
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Only a few days left to sign up for my writing workshop! You know you want to write your book! Here's your change with personal coaching from me. Give yourself a present and register now at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/writingworkshop/

Working out love

"Do not be anxious about anything," St. Paul writes in his jail cell, "but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your request to God."

I suspect the old Apostle's request to God was "Get me the hell out of here! I'll thank you later!"

And in time, he eventually did get out, though it's unclear how much, if anything, God had to do with it. He'd done his time and they needed the space because it's always brisk in the jail business.

I've known and visited lots of people in jail. I offered housing to many released from prison who had no home to go to so they came to me.

Over time it was easy to see virtually all of them were very religious people.

Faith is easier to find when you're locked up and lonely. With no one else to talk to, they talked to God.

"Please get me out of here," they beg, "and I promise I'll do better next time."

Like the old Saint, they were eventually released too with a chance to start over albeit with the albatross of a criminal record that greatly reduced the opportunities facing them.

Because I have the "REV" in front of my name, they shared their stories with me, made confessions or asked my forgiveness for things I knew nothing about. There was a desperateness to their faith which I've rarely seen in religious institutions of any kind.

At the same time, I've never met anyone who isn't imprisoned by anxieties.  Everyone expects the worst even when they're praying for the best. We worry about most everything, sometimes to the point of becoming completely overwhelmed. The older we grow, the worse it seems to get.

Like the prisoner sitting in his cell, we long to be free too. Free to go somewhere else, be with somebody else, do something else and do these things completely free of fear.

"What's it like?" a friend asked. "I mean you get up every day and do what you want. You live where you wish and with Sarah who works with you. I want to do what you're doing. How do you do it? Aren't you anxious?"

"Sure," I reply. "Of course I am but so far so good. We're not certain how sustainable it is but we're giving it our best and we believe with everything in us that it'll work out in the end."

"There are two basic motivating forces," said the Major Prophet John Lennon, "fear and love. When we're afraid we pull back from life. When we are in love we are open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement and acceptance."

So I'm doing the things I love and doing them now! I'm afraid to put it off like lots of people do. So I'm going to keep working on the things I love with a belief that love works everything out so I don't have to worry.
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There's one week left to sign up for my writing workshop! You know you want to write your book! Here's your change with personal coaching from me. Give yourself a present and register now at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/writingworkshop/

Writing my dream!

"You always wanted to be a writer," Mom says as I pick dead leafs out of flower pots on the Back Deck where the laptop is open on the picnic table and my notes are scattered. My I-Phone and pens serve as paperweights as a light ocean breeze occasionally rearrange the papers.

I'd called her needing a break from writing.

I have no recollection when I wanted to become a writer though I do recall the first time I said it publically. I'd resigned my job as my first book was released. It was time to become a full time writer so I explained this was the reason I was leaving.

The Society of Salty Saints got great reviews and had multiple printings. The publisher was interested in what else I had though I had nothing.  It was time for me get intense and give it my all. I relocated to a small barrier island perfect for inspiration and new stories and dove in the deep end of the pool.

A short time later I was broke.

While Salty Saints sold a lot of copies, I didn't make much money from it.

So I got a job to finance my writing habit. What I believed would be a short term position turned into a 23 year career. I'd been hired as a leader and both the company and my stature rose significantly, in no small part because I continued to write.

Seven more books were published during this time and one received a "Book of the Year" award. I penned numerous articles, diversified into grant writing, cultivated vignette story telling for the company newsletter and wrote countless speeches I gave.

"You could make math problems interesting," someone once quipped about me.

Though the job still paid the bills and not the writing.

The books, articles, newsletters and speeches actually marketed the company and my reputation. The company received millions of dollars and I achieved notoriety. The first skill I looked for when hiring was the ability to write.

"I'd like to see a sample of your writing," I asked one applicant. She got a pen and paper and wrote exactly what I'd said then proudly showed it to me.

"I write pretty well," she beamed.

Though her penmanship was terrific, she wasn't hired.

Over the decades I learned writing is a passion that consumes completely. A lucky few make a living at it but most keep at it for other reasons.

Every day for the past five years, I've written. Technology advancements allow me to publish it immediately which I find invigorating. Daily blogs lead to dialogue and discussion in real time. Feedback is instant. Thousands of pages are mined for potential and cultivation and Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts, my first book written just for me, is now available.

Through these years, writing was my major coping mechanism. Navigating a complete life change, the daily musings and their immediate release, were my therapy. Anger, loss, kindness, faith, surprises, friendship, self-discovery, joy in little things and discovering new capacities to love are the constant themes. I would never have survived without writing.

I'm finally a full time writer ... at least for now. Every day, it is the core of my work. The pays not as good as the job had been but I'm living my dream. I try to help others live theirs too. It's as exhilarating as it is scary! As rebellious as it is rewarding! A fulfilling sacrifice!

"Alright Mom," I excitedly say, "I've got to get back to work."

"It'll be great," she says as she always has.

I know it will be for me ... just like it has been for so long.
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There is still time to register for my Writing Workshop beginning in November! Let the stories you're holding inside come to the light of day and share them with the world. Register at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/writingworkshop/

Surviving hammers and nails

This is a random progression of thought.

Crosby, Stills & Nash singing "4 + 20" which make me wonder what I was doing 24 years ago.

Not especially good at math, I hit the calculator App on the I-phone and subtract 24 from 57 and it's 33.

That's Jesus age was when he was crucified.


OUCH!

Since that first one, his ass has been nailed to a cross virtually every day somewhere but especially in church and Congress.

On the other hand, I've only been crucified a few times. None were pleasant and I wouldn't recommend it to anybody though it is great when you survive.

The scars don't matter.

The life does.

Sitting here at 57, wishing like hell I could be 33 again because my beautiful wife Sarah would be three years older than me and I would like that.

It would buy us more time.

But it is what it is.

It took her one crucifixion and me two to get us to where we are.

I wouldn't trade it.

I'm pretty sure she wouldn't either though crucifixions make you not take much anything for granted when you survive.

It's been a tough week full of good days and bad days and going half mad days. Lots of people with hammers and nails have been walking around ... mostly corporate leaders, politicians, FOX News and clergy ...  but so far we've skirted them.

We're still alive and kicking!

Hell! We're flat out enjoying!

You are too if you're on the right side of the dirt!

So take the moment and enjoy the hell out of yourself!

You've survived your share of crucifixions just like I have.

It's best to focus on what's next because what was ... hurt like hell.

It's a time of celebration!

I'm starting by proving to Sarah that resurrection has many meanings ... many times ... many ways ... and is repetitive.

Life is good!

Go do good things!

Especially for yourself!
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Only a few more days to "Embrace Peace in Your life!" Time and space are running out. Do something for you and sign up now at  http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/onlineclass/

The Tore Up People

Why is it so damn hard to focus on the important things in life?

The rising of the sun, the sound of cicada singing, a nice breeze and the sound of my loved one's voice across the room are cause for serious celebrations.

But there's money to make, expectations to meet, crisis to navigate and a never ending line of plates twirling on sticks that may break if I don't give it everything I got.

I end up blinding myself to the beauty of the world, sticking logs in my eyes to prop me up at work, with family, friends and everything they demand.

The happiness seen are specks, fleeting moments when life really is good, I'm really happy, and all is right with the world.

Erin is my friend and recently learned she has cancer. She lives in Chicago and invited a bunch of us to join her support team on Facebook so I'm a very proud member!

She's having surgery soon and was shopping for a recliner to recuperate in because laying in bed is apparently not an option. She finds one on Craigslist being sold by an elderly couple relocating to Tucson. She explains why the chair's needed and they invite her to sit and talk.

So she does.

They talk about cancer, moving, what a great chair it is.

Erin feels completely alive!

"Is it because I'm thinking about death that I'm so alive?" she shares.

I don't know.

It could be what she's really saying is, "To hell with it! I'm going to live like I've always supposed to be living."

Like everyone else, there are lots of things I wish were better. There can always be more of this and less of that. There's enough struggle and negative in life that we really try to keep those kinds of people blocked out.

This life given to each of us is a gift. Gifts are to be enjoyed and celebrated.  You never know how long they last.

I think we need to slow down and enjoy the things we have in our lives because in the end it's the little things that are really the big things ... the gift of another day, the sound of cicada singing, the kiss of a breeze and the sounds of those we love most.

Jesus once said, "Take the log out of your own eye, then you will see clearly to help your brother and sister. Don't give away what is Holy to dogs ... don't throw your pearls to pigs ... because doing these things will tear you to pieces."

I've known lots of torn up people in my life.

Hell, I got tore up myself and somehow survived.

We're all going to have lots thrown at us today. Honestly, most of it is trivial, hateful, and not especially productive for much anything. If we're not careful, logs are going to blind us to the wonderful gifts we have. It's a shame when we don't celebrate the gifts given to us.

Today, Sarah and I have blocked some bad people from our lives. We've kissed several times already. I've talked to the kids. The girls and I have laughed. We're working to help others celebrate too. I'm sending good Karma, deep prayers and lots of love to Erin ... and to you too.

As the sun keeps rising.

The cicada sing their Hymns of Praise.

God blows a kiss from across the Sea.

And the sounds of love surround me.


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October 2013 ♦ 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.

http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/indepthclasses/

View from the bed

While Sarah wakes up in extremely slow motion, I'm pretty quick about it.

That's not to say I jump right out of bed.

The view is incredible.

If I'm facing the interior of the house, I'm staring at Sarah. Not too shabby of a way to wake up! Of course, if I wake her up she might kill me before falling back to sleep and dying is no way to wake up.

If I'm laying on my left side though, with Sarah snuggling my back, there are six windows for me to stare at silhouettes of Palm Trees in the pre-dawn sky.

Light creeps from the ocean where the sun is erupting from the sea.

Couples are watching it, holding hands while sipping to-go cups of coffee.

Photographers are snapping pictures of it.

In the sand dunes, others are making love, creating their own eruptions.

The Department of Public Works is cleaning up yesterday's mess on the beach.

The Breakfast Club is busy preparing for its daily invasion of customers.

I take 10 minutes or so and just lay there.

The Palm Trees come to life as God finger paints the sky blue with streaks of red, yellow and purple.

Sarah breathes into my back and squeezes her arm around my waist.

Goddess nuzzles her cold nose into my hand which is slung off the side of the bed.

I am bathed in holiness and there is no hurry.

I think about things laying there. The kids are all alright and I'm thankful. My Mom is doing good beyond belief. Our friend Robin is moving towards the ocean and that's good. Mark, Mitch and Sandi made me laugh all day long yesterday. Cheryl came out with a bottle of wine yesterday as the girls and I swam in the pool to break the afternoon heat. Suzanne in Pittsburgh and I chatted on Facebook and I hadn't talked to her in a year or so. We heard from lots of people interested in listening to God talk to them. The first illustration for the new book was terrific and made us all laugh for a long time.

"Thank you," I say out loud to start the day.

Than I crawl out of bed and stumble to the outdoor shower so I can enjoy it all again.

Today's blessings. Whose counting?

How do you know when you're blessed?

Most of the time I'm wanting things that I don't have yet causing me to fail to appreciate the things I do have now. Yesterday was one of those days. I wanted everything we've been working on finished. I demanded the fruits of our labors NOW DAMMIT! Of course I ended up getting frustrated.

"Why don't you take Goddess for a walk?" Sarah said after I was short with the girls.

What I ended up doing was trying to work through it by sitting out in the front yard with Laurel as she sat in the grass drawing pictures of trees.

Today I'm determined to not repeat the sins of yesterday.

There's only so much I can do to make things happen anyway. Everything happens in its own time anyway. I can't control the future. I either live in this present moment or I screw it up by not celebrating it fully.

I want to completely enjoy this day. I'm going to work a little, play a little and love a lot. I'm going to dig my toes in the sand today. I think we'll make Smores tonight over an open fire. I'll have a casual conversation with God, laugh with my friends and enjoy the girls. I'm going to talk to my kids. I'm going to kiss passionately. I'm going to enjoy this place.

Those are the blessings I've counted so far.

I'm not just counting though.

I'm enjoying them.

They're what's mine today!

One Hell of a life!

Sweat pours from my body as I run in the early morning humidity. An ocean breeze blows from the south but I know when I make the turn on the beach it will be at my back and it will be stifling until I turn again to make my way home.

Topping the 19th Street crosswalk, I look over tall while sand dunes crowned with green sea oats to a high tide with rolling white waves. The sun is mercifully blotted out by a summer squall over the ocean. I see purple rain falling heavily into greenish grey sea. Crossing the dunes, I turn left and run along side the water towards the main beach.

Jimmy Buffett is telling to "take another road to another place."

I feel good.

Yesterday Sarah and I took the girls to the beach and made a day of it. Last night we went to the "Full Moon" party at Marlin Monroe's where we got married.  We celebrate our anniversary each month rather than annually.

The Carnival of friends were all present bringing laughter with them. Sarah and I were wished "Happy Anniversary" repeatedly though we married in March.

Afterwards, we sat in a swing at the end of our street watching the magnificence of the moon rise over the ocean. Once home, the girls thankfully went to bed but Sarah and I remained awake to celebrate in a different way.

Such days make it hard to not be grateful for everything!

My red running shorts are completely soaked as I pass under the Pier. Looking ahead, I notice walkers have stopped walking and runners stand with a hand over the eyes, staring behind me.

Turning my head I look backwards and witness the most incredible water spout I've ever seen! A long dark funnel dips from the purple clouds touching the ocean. Water explodes upward, spectacularly splashing 30 feet high in every direction. It is holy!

The wind suddenly comes from every direction. The temperature drops significantly in mere seconds. Rain is immediate as the squall hits the shore and there is nothing to do but keep running, rain pelting me as though it's BB's fired from a relentless machine gun. I have to keep my head lowered and watch one foot repeatedly step in front of the other.

The rain hurts too much so I turn and splash down 7th Street, making my way home. Thunder roars. Lightening cracks as I run down the puddle that is now 2nd Avenue. Dan Fogleberg is telling me about Heartbreak Hotels. I wonder how my I-Pod and the rain.

Suddenly the sun blazes through the trees still dripping with rain. The temperature shoots upward. Sweat again pours from my body. My I-Pod keeps playing even when I hit pause.

On 12th Street, I take a right to see a brilliant broad rainbow hanging over our house. Behind it, purple rain falls on the marsh. Lightening flashes over Wilmington. I am bathed in sunshine watching darkness retreat and it's hard to not take it as a message from God. I had it good. Things got bad. It's good again. Whatever darkness is left is left in my life is moving away quickly.

"Thank you God," I say out loud as I turn towards our yard. "That was one hell of a run!"

"I'm living one hell of a life!"

Now

Lots of people have problems with the past.

They're haunted by it, stuck in it or forever try to relive it.

I'm with Oscar Wilde on this one.

"The one charm of the past is that ... it's the past" ... meaning it's not now.

I tell a lot of stories and a many of them are from things I've done. I've happened to have done a lot doing my best to take full advantage of this gift of life that I have. I do my best to exploit it, squeezing every single drop out to enjoy.

Like everyone else, there's bad shit in my past. Much of it was self-inflicted but a far share was instigated by others. Sometimes I'll tell those stories too as a way of making certain I learned the lesson because I sure as hell never want to do any of that stuff again!

Bill Berry, not the former drummer for REM but the other one, and I have had many excellent adventures that merit retelling. We have every intention of having many more.

Carlos wrote me yesterday from St. Martin to say there are growing rumors that Conner and I will be back soon and we're bring Hania and Sarah. He already knew we're returning because I told him so a few weeks ago. Conner and I have had many excellent adventures there, both famous and otherwise, and everyone is abuzz not because of what we've done, but because of what we might do.

I love summer. I love it even more than college football season. Summer's my favorite time of year ... you got your baby, got blanket, got your bucket of beer ... and I've had good ones and bad ones. What I remember about the bad ones is just trying to get through them. Several were in St. Martin where Carlos and Verna checked on me everyday and brought me jerked chicken. But I don't want to that again either.

Now this summer is what's exciting me!

Sarah and I kicked it off this past weekend by floating from the mouth of the ocean through the Back River to The Crab Shack where we had a lovely lunch and a better talk. We've got big plans to enjoy the hell out of this one.

Jimmy Buffett is running through my head. "It's the reason for living, that's what I'm given, I don't need no history lesson to tell me why ... I love the Now!"

I'm not big on when the past comes to visit me. It's just what was. There are some good stories to still tell but the rest is best left back there. I don't want to go back to it and I certainly don't want it come back to me. College was great but I'd die if I had to go back.

Seminary was a defining part of my life but they'd shit their pants if I wanted to return, which I don't.

My days as a "Professional Christian", President & CEO, political advocate, and such were key moments for me too but it would be pure hell to do any of them again.

I'm too busy anyway.

Living the NOW and loving it!