A Year's Difference

What a difference a year makes.

I'm talking about this college season football year. After starting with two prime time losses the Beloved Dawgs of Georgia have won eight straight ... albeit some were of the ugliest win variety I've ever witnessed. Then last week, everything about this football team came together and we beat Auburn 45-7. No one was more stunned than the 97,000 people at the game.

The crowd would cheer over a play and then lapsed back into stunned silence.

It was great!

Afterwards I celebrated with all of my kids in the restaurant at the Holiday Inn in Athens. We lingered enjoying a season that has turned completly around. Today should the Beloved Dawgs of Georgia win it's ninth in a row over the Philistines of Kentucy ... then we play for the SEC Championship which is akin to reaching the Promised Land.

If everything goes right, as the major Prophet Larry Munson once said, "They tore our hearts out and threw in on the foot. They ran all over it. We picked it up and put it back in. Touchtown! Georgia wins!"

I've always loved that call of the game against Georgia Tech. Jeremy and Chelsea and I were there. Tech had just scored to take the lead with a minute left to play. The Beloved Dawgs of Georgia were led by God all of the way down the field scoring on an incredible towndown catch. My daughter, son and I danced like heathens in the end zone.

Last year's football season saw the Beloved Dawgs of Georgia back wandering in the wilderness. Pagans from Alamaba and Lousiana had made an unholy alliance to create an evil empire in the Southeastern Conference. At the same time, I wasn't in the best of shape. I don't even remember last year's games though I was here for all of them.

Today I'm full of excitment and surrounded by love and happiness. Last night we went to the Holy Shrine of the Varsity to break bread together ... and eat chili cheeses dogs, several naked dogs and onion rings and fries together. Then we settled in the room to try to unwind and prepare for today. Anticipation and excitment abounded. Everyone knows ... something special is happening.

In just a little while, I'll be surrounded by one-hundred-thousand of my cloest friends. We will all be styling wearing red and black. We'll sing the familiar Hymns ... "Glory, Glory to Old Georgia" and "Hunker Down Hairy Dog." We'll offer prayers throughout the day, "Please God let him tackle that SOB" and "Thank you Lord for that incredible catch in the corner of the end zone."

After the game we will all make our way to the Chapel ... to ring the victory bell throughout the night.

Like the Beloved Dawgs of Georgia, I've had my fair share of wandering in the wilderness alone and foresaken. Today I am part of this community of believers and we love and support one another as we build new lives. We take to time to celebrate and to laugh. We are quick to share our love.

And God looked down and said ... "It is good."

This One

I hit the road again tomorrow. After a three week reprieve from travel, it's back to the airport to Baltimore for a meeting of the "Community Health Leaders" of which somehow I remain one. There are 180 of us from throughout the country who have been recognized for improvements in how health care works in the United States.

No one there thinks inside of the box so these are my kind of people. "Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun, but Mama ... that's where the fun is!" That's the mantra of this group.

At this point in my life, I've been most everywhere I've ever wanted to go. A lot of places, I've been to numerous times, so much so, that most cities look the same to me. Sure, some are better than others but after a while they all seem the same. When I hit one, I try to find pubs or bookstores where locals hang out which is a lot more fun than sitting in a conference room or a hotel meeting space which all look alike.

This week, I've received texts, phone calls and emails from my St. Martin friends. "Where are you?" was the common question. Last year at this time I was there. I suppose they expected me back which is nice. After you've lived through not being wanted you learn what a wonderful thing it is to be wanted.

And I love St. Martin as much as I love anyplace. It's up there with Tybee Island for sure. Savannah used to be way high on the list but it's dropped out of the "Top Ten." Stevenson, Washington took it's place.

Havana, Cuba comes next followed by Hope Town in the Bahamas. I still get a rush in Washington, D.C. and Prague in the Chec Republic is the world's most beautiful city. New York City remains though I no longer love it as much as I used to. Athens, Georgia in the fall will never leave the list and of course, Key West rounds it all out.

Over the last year something has happened. The day before I leave has become a day of dread. I travel so much I have weeks and weeks of dread. There is a weariness to the road and honestly, I've really become a homebody. Goddess and I are quite content watering the flowers and taking walks to make sure that Shirley's sad little holy dock hasn't fallen into the marsh.

This tiny collection of friends somehow morphed into family last year and I miss them when I am gone ... and the missing grows more intense.

Then there is this one ... I miss her most of all. Days are no longer right when we cannot share them. It is not the day's fault, nor is it anybody else's ... save perhaps the Gods conspiring against us ... or forcing us to remember that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder ... though "waiting is the hardest part" according to the prophet Tom Petty and ... waiting is a bitch.

I'm fifty-five years old and have done a lot in those years. I've seen the world and liked most of it. I've been glorified and vilified. I've been crucified and I've ascended to heaven on more than one occasion. I've gotten standing ovations and have been cussed out in public. I've held the hands of the dying and I've also watched the dead come back to life. I have healed and I have been so hurt that I couldn't stand in my own house. I've been so public and now ... I am private. I used to chase things ... not I wait on them to come to me.

Today I ponder these things. It is the dread of leaving the things you love.

I have too of course. There is money to be made and possibilities to explore. But I do these things for what is coming. Not for what's been left behind ... those are just stories to tell.

The God's have stopped conspiring and Paul McCartney is now singing a Hymn.

"Did I ever take you in my arms, look you in the eye and tell you that I Do? Did I ever open up my heart and let you look inside? If I never did it, I was only waiting for a moment that didn't come. There could never be a better moment than this one ... this one."

I love you.

When the Celebration Begins

It has been crazy! I've spent the entire week trying to get this document for work written ... a very important thing that clarifies what my world will be like over the next several years ... as well as the important work of Street Medicine as one of the solutions to the worlds health care problems ... but man! ... have there been distractions!

Monday was so long ago the only thing that I remember is that we spent the entire day dealing with the politics of the Internet but that night I went out pizza with a bunch of girls. It was great ... though we didn't solve the political Internet problems.

On Tuesday we focused on the politics of Hospital Administrators ... who are like elected officials thinking they know everything and want what they want when they want it. I was exhausted at the end of the day and went to bed just as soon as I possibly could.

Hump day was all about humping. Or being humped. I'm not exactly sure what was accomplished from a work perspective though I did seem to be on the phone a great deal. That night a bunch of girls conducted a hostile takeover of my house and did all of the things that girls do. When they left, the refrigerator was stuffed full of stuff, new pictures had been cut and drawn, the coffee table was covered with glue, and Simon ... the dog that lives downstairs ... and I were exhausted.

Thursday morning, I was sitting at the Conference Room table in corporate headquarters when Dedra asked what we needed to do that day and how she could help.

I told her.

She burst into tears.

At 1:50 that afternoon, she quit. She did so by leaving me a note. "It's 1:50. I quit!" Dee's always been a word master.

But lightning struck and I started the report sitting on the beloved back deck. The night was unsettled and restless and I couldn't wait to the morning with things are normal. "The trouble with normal is it always gets worse," sings the minor prophet Bruce Cockburn ... so I wrestled through a night ... like Jacob wrestled with an angel and it was a draw ... neither would let the other go.

"Bless me," Jacob said so the angel kicked him in the hip (Genesis 32).

It was that kind of night.

Friday was the dawning of a new day. It began with the most pleasant of surprises, the report was written and emailed off, then ... it was time to party!

So this tight collection of friends who are family gathered around a fire. Weenises were involved ... as were pitchforks. One was slain in the spirit when he was knocked out of his chair onto the lawn. Pulling up his socks he returned to his chair when God knocked him out of it again.

Then the Spirit of God moved to the woman sitting next to him and knocked her out of her chair. A Princess toasted her buns and a couple locked themselves in a straight-jacket. Another sipping on Holy Water found the light and shown it ... on the ground ... ignoring the rest.

These are my people.

So it was a typical Friday night on Tybee Island.

I sit here in morning prayers, reflecting over the week, happy that it's not raining though I could sing in the rain today. The sun beams and love is all around me. It is quiet for the moment and Goddess sits under my feet. Fran's thousand shades of green dances in joy outside. All of the work has been put away and will wait until Monday.

I've learned many things the past few years. One is that it'll all work out. An angel keeps telling me that. There are lot of unknowns that I wish I could control better ... but I can't. But in the end it gets done and the celebration begins. There is no rushing it though. It happens when it happens.

And yesterday the work got done and the celebration happened.

A Conversation with God

Lying in bed I listened to the rain wash the sins of the world away. The windows were open so the steady downpour was loud. I am wrapped in the arms of love and content in the night. God decides to liven it up with streaks of lightening with no thunder so that others can sleep. Silhouettes of Palm Streets dancing appear and then disappear adding to the vaudeville show that I am witness to ... Who can sleep?

Though I should be sleeping. I was up late talking about sins committed, forgiven and then the peace that passes all understanding came.

Then God decided to wake me up so we could have a talk.

I do most of the talking. First I question why is it that when things are just happily rolling along something stupid happens that disrupts the entire universe and the joy that was is held is suddenly lost?

The rain falls harder in response.

So it's the way that life is. I took this as the answer. We let things get in the way of expressing the deep love we have for someone else and before you know it, we have offended the things that we love. It's unintentional of course ... most sins normally are ... the road to hell being paved with good intentions and all that stuff. So I asked for forgiveness for the sin of oversight or taking for granted ... and the rain grew softer in the night.

I ask God why is it that time flies just when I am finally understanding the incredible happiness of this moment?

Lightening flashes and the silhouettes of the Palm Trees ceased dancing and stand at attention embarrassed at my questions.

God remains silent otherwise though the soft rain continues to fall.

Thoughts of all of the things that I've done flash through my mind ... the different versions of myself that I've been ... slow growth and hard lessons ... losses and loves ... abandonment and discovery ... accomplishments and failures ...

All of the things that have brought me to this moment, and who I am in it, and who are the community of believers who are on this journey with me ... and the thought emerges that I've lived my whole life to get to where I am now. Possibilities are endless if I remember the things that got me here but refuse to grow rooted in the fear of not being able to embrace the new ... because of being chained to the past.

The rain stops and all is quiet. Peaceful darkness invites the sleep to return to me.

I roll over into the arms of love and say, "Thank you God ... for this."

A lone bird sings a solo to welcome the coming of the new dawn.

Apprehension Falls

Probably because I was home I slept like a baby last night ... hard and deep.

It could have been the coolness of the evening. Though in general terms I hate the freekin cold, I do have a tendency to sleep better in it. Though let me be perfectly honest ... I will gladly give up such sleeps for hot weather.

Course it was the best of weekends ... well, until I got home and the phone was ringing off the hook with work related issues weren't supposed to start until today. Kristen was sitting here wanting time with her Dad but the calls were important and in these times and days ... keeping or finding work takes more priority than it used to.

Eventually, after an hour-and-a-half of her watching me talk on the phone, Kristen and I got half-an-hour of quality Daddy/Daughter time. Then she had to leave.

So I rode up to Marlin Monroe's and finally hooked back up my friends. We're all sitting there for the Sunday afternoon ritual ... drinking, eating, laughing ... just friends who love one another being friends when my I-phone buzzes. Old habits die hard and I whip it out in a flash and check the message.

It's from Cheryl who is sitting across the table from me.

"You look tired and spent. What's up?" she texted.

I look up at her. She's looking at me.

A lot of people don't like technology. But I think it's great! There were ten of us sitting there, all having a collective conversation, while two of us had a private one. Friends who love each other looking after each other by ... whatever means necessary.

It's been weeks since we've all been together. My friends and I have been scattered to and fro upon the face of the earth. After a summer full of celebration we are all entering a Fall of apprehension. With the coming cold you can't help but wonder if the economy will ever thaw ... or just freeze more ... perhaps leaving us out in the cold.

That's what Kristen wanted to talk about. She works as a bartender/waitress six days a week, is in school full time and her land lord just seriously raised the rent. AND ... winter's coming on ... Tips are gonna drop, school's gonna get harder and the rents already been raised.

"How am I going to do his Daddy?"

Daddy's don't have answers for everything.

And that's why I had to take those damn phone calls because the work I am doing is on behalf of the people who are already outside ... many of whom were working good jobs not too long ago. So as I give them my best explanations, I stare at my daughter finding serious motivation.

By the time Cheryl texts me, I really am tired and worn. Crashes come so quickly. People who love me and know me can see.

Then my I-phone buzzes again. It's a little girl who wants to know if I want to join her family for dinner.

"Of course I do," I say into the phone.

I say goodbyes and hop in my car with the top down and make my way from one end of the island to the other.

"Hey Mike!" Chris says I sip coffee at the Breakfast Club this morning. "I waved at you like crazy yesterday but you were zoned somewhere else. Next time I'll save the wave."

I stare at him.

I think everyone's a little zoned these days. We all got through the summer. Cold winds are now blowing. Apprehension falls around us.

"It's gonna work out," I say to my daughter.

She looks at me with moist eyes.

"I know," she answers.

Salt water fills my eyes.

Rolling Stops

It ended up being the Sunday that I wanted ... quiet, laid back, music and grilled chops and sausage. Goddess got walks and we took bicycle rides. The girls watched Mama Mia and laughed while I puttered around the kitchen. We made our way to Shirley Sessions at Doc's Bar for "The Girlfriend's" performance which is always a lot of fun.

Shirley's running for Mayor.

Politicians were everywhere yesterday either running to or from office. You couldn't swing a dead feral cat without hitting one. They showed up at the Bored meeting, the daily celebration of life on Tybee Island. They attended Shirley's event even though it was Shirley's event and not their own ... hmmm ... perhaps all Politicians cannot afford their own events and Shirley is being magnanimous about it all.

After spending all of their money on signs, a lot of these poor politicians may not have anything left over for events. As you may know, politicians on Tybee love signs and encourages their utilization. After two other towns went out of business Tybee purchased all of their stop signs and the island has more per capita than any other organized community in all of North America, eastern and western Europe, most of China and Russia.

It is a sad waste of the utilization of signs.

Recycling expert and former politician Johnny O has made a novel contribution to this year's election. He has obtained all of the signs that had been used in previous elections and placed them in his yard. No one currently running for anything has a sign there. All of the signs are the unelected, dead, and decomposing politicians.

He is currently searching for the most obscure, hard-to-find and rarest of all Tybee political signs ... the "Whitley Reynolds" sign. According to ancient history only remembered by Roma, Gloria the Bird Lady (nice finger!) and Nicki Alexander ... Whitley Reynolds once ran for city council and actually won! He proudly served for ten minutes and has never been heard from politically again! Some doubt his actual existence but his ghost can be seen pedaling a drunken bicycle on most nights or eerily sitting at the counter of the Breakfast Club before the doors are unlocked and customers are allowed inside.

But in Whitley is kind of like believing that there non-feral cats on the island. It's crazy.

Back when Johnny O last ran for City Council they sponsored "Ask the Candidate Night" so I showed up because I wanted to ask him something.

He looked good. Brill-cream in his hair, nice suit with really wide tie left over from the 1970s, I think he was even sucking on a peppermint. He was giving it his all.

"I need to ask you something," I said.

"Get the hell away from me," he said.

"What?" I cleverly responded. "It's ask the candidate night."

"Get the hell away from me!" he shouted.

The entire audience of fifteen people witnessed this and, of course, John lost.

The point is ... if you're running for office and I ask you a question ... you sure as hell better answer it ... in public.

So yesterday I met John Somebody-with-no-vowels-in-his-last-name-at-all who running for something. I wanted to buy a vowel but nobody was offering.

Then at Shirley's thing, I met Monty Parks ... who I think used to be a game show host. He was styling though with his open Hawaiian flashing a white chest, shorts, and saddles with socks. He's a nice guy who does nice things. He knew my name. I didn't have any questions for him because Sandy McCloud was lusting after me from the stage and couldn't take her eyes off of me.

So I walked up to Shirley. "Which game show was Monty Parks host of?"

Shirley said, "Get the hell away from me!"

So we came home, grilled, sat on the beloved back deck, listened to music, watched Rocky rise the dead, danced to the incredible deep lyrics of ABBA ... ignoring Stop Signs ... and politicians.

{ P.S. Julia Pierce was kicked out of a food bank for wearing a political shirt to it. Tybee has a thing against shirts. Had she not been wearing one it all would have been fine. Or ... if it was a sign.]

Seriously

Staring out of this 18th floor window, the sky is an upside down blanket of dark grey that has left the end of the horizon uncovered. Below me is a river that is little more than a canal and headlights fly over the bridges reminding me that life goes on.

"Ob-la-de Ob-la-da" I say out loud as the morning prayer.

The sun will peak between the tree tops and the blanket of clouds then it will go back to sleep. I sip coffee and watch the day being born.

"You look like Einstein," Caroline said after hugging me last night, then she played with the back of my hair which is in that in-between length of half way to the top of my shoulders.

"I'll take Einstein," I say laughing and then embracing Dave her husband. He and I sneak off for beers during these things.

Caroline is the person who is really in charge of the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation's Local Funding Partnership program. On the org chart there are many people above her, but she's really the one. I learned a long time ago that it is far more important to have a good relationship with the Administrative Assistant than it is the CEO. Caroline can make anything happen or bring everything to a screeching halt should she decide.

The first time I went to Congress I wandered into then Representative Lindsey Thomas's office. The intern/secretary was sitting there and asked what I wanted.

"I have an appointment to see the Congressman," I explained. "Sorry that I'm late."

She asked who the hell I was so I told her.

"Hmmm," she explained looking at her computer and her notes, "I don't see your name."

The empty desk in the Cannon Office building office across from hers belonged to someone named Trish who wasn't there.

"Trish made the appointment," I explained.

"Oh," she said.

Ten minutes later I was sitting across from Lindsey.

We had nice chat and our relationship grew to the point where we would sit on the beach drinking cold beers together until the point of mutual sunburns.

That's how the world works.

"I got you out of stuff," Caroline explains.

"Oh yeah?"

"You work all day tomorrow but Friday's yours," she says.

It is hard not to love Caroline.

Stumbling into the ball room I'm hugged by Matthew from Houston and take my seat between Fernando from Philly and Namratha from Chicago. We are the rainbow ... black, brown, yellow and white. We crack each other up. So after the "How's it going?" question is answered ... we play during the program ... giggling like grade-schoolers duing the Principal's speech.

Part of living a successful life is thumbing your nose at conventionality. This is the tie that binds us. We do just enough to be accepted and needed for things ... but balance it with the never ending question ... "Seriously?"

Most people are far too serious.

OK, it's time to get ready. It's a big day Caroline has told me. I stare at my suitcase looking at the work clothes that I brought. I haven't worn them since I left Union Mission.

Then I look at the jeans I wore yesterday.

I put on the jeans.

OK, I have a speech to give.

I wonder what it will be about.

Seriously.