A Prayer of thanks

A friend of mine passed away yesterday.

We weren't close friends, rarely spending time alone though we did have several heartfelt conversations over the past decade. He was constantly there while my life went through seismic shifts and I was there in his too from time to time.

I'd stumble off the beach and he'd be sitting at one of the large yellow and blue picnic tables in his restaurant. "Andy and Cheryl's Baywatch" is a fixture on Orient Beach in St. Martin. In the West French West Indies he served up incredible American food with a flair!

His Margarita Shrimp is to die for!

Now he's died.

He was an ornery man, a sloppy dresser and a wonderful chef. I don't think its a coincidence that he died on Friday the 13th. He could be funny as hell or mean as a snake.

You never knew what you were going to get.

Just like the specials in the open air restaurant with sand on the floor.

"Come here Andy," my friend Hugh once said, "let me see what today's special is."

And Hugh stared at the stains on Andy's tee shirt concluding, "Ah! Lasagna!"

Andy expatriated from New Jersey and the United States for life in the Caribbean, built a very popular eatery with an incredibly loyal customer base. And he did it surrounded by exquisite French restaurants by sticking out like a sore thumb.

1960s rock-n-roll blasted from the speakers in Baywatch, a funny staff of islanders made up for his poor management styles while his ex-wife served as hostess. It was such an American contrast to the subtle ways of the French.

Sarah, Conner, Hania and I were there a few months ago and we could tell the place was losing its steam. It was still beautiful and the food was constantly great but the soul of the place was disappearing. It happens ... All Things Must Pass.

But I'm left with mostly fond memories. It was a good place for a long time. Andy was more good than bad and on rare occasions he could be magical. I liked him.

I say a prayer of thanks today for Andy. My mind drifts to the wonderful collection of people who salt my life making it better than what it would have been without them. I check on Sarah to make sure she's still breathing as she sleeps. Goddess lays at my feet and sighs while my heart explodes with love.

______________________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. His musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.

Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words.

Order it now at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

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?

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♦ 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/

Wonder Woman

Apparently Sarah is the only mother who isn't a member of the PTA. She received an email explaining she's the lone hold out and the entire school year is in great jeopardy. Her girls are embarrassed and at risk of being shunned by the children of the mothers who are members of the PTA.

"It's at the same time," she tells me, "that I'm coaching 'Girls on the Run', an afterschool program at the school."

I nod without speaking because I'm now smart enough to keep my mouth shut when she's letting off steam.

"After that," she continues, "I've got to rush to Cheerleading practice, horse riding lessons and the modeling class."

I quietly nod lovingly.

"When I'm not driving or coaching, I'm working. Two books and two more classes before the end of the year and I'm squeezing it in while I wait on the girls."

Suddenly she stops and stares straight at me.

"Are you finished with your edits?"

Shaking my head from side to side, I quickly engage in a brilliant diversionary maneuver.

"So you're going to join the PTA?" I sympathetically ask.

"I suppose," she sighs while I exhale.

"Plus they want us to buy a hundred dollars worth of candy bars to sell. That's in addition to the discount cards we're already selling for the school band ..."

"I sold two more at the Breakfast Club today," I proudly announce.

Sarah looks at me as though I am blabbering, drooling and setting my hair on fire.

"Shit!" I think to myself. "I broke the rule! Keep the damn mouth shut!"

She picks up a book bag that must weigh 300 pounds and easily flips it over her shoulder and I know that she can break me anytime she wants as she yells, "ARE YOU READY FOR SCHOOL?"

One girl is spraying several gallons of hair spray on her head while the other is desperately searching for shoes that match. Both freeze for a second and then explode into a frenzied last minute dash to get ready.

Meanwhile Wonder Woman easily lifts another 300 pound book bag and leans forward to kiss me goodbye while simultaneously shepherding both girls to the car.

She shoots out of the drive way as though someone fired the shot to start the Daytona 500.

I blow her a kiss and marvel at her motherhood.

I have no idea how she's going to both coach "Girls on the Run" and attend PTA meetings at the same time but I have no doubt that Sarah will pull it off.

She's simply amazing that way.

Now, I wonder what I did with the book I'm supposed to be editing.

_____________________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. His musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.
Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words.

Order yours at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

My Mortality

"God has put within our lives meanings and possibilities that quite outrun the limits of mortality," said Harry Emerson Fosdick ... a great man and one hell of a preacher!

I believe that.

Life runs out before we do.

Then everything gets really interesting!

Lots of people think once we die ... that's it.

I'm not one of them.

"We disappoint, we disappear, we die but we don't" is the way the great American songwriter Stephen Sonheim sums it up.

The fact is, we linger.

For the second time in my life, I'm blessed to live with three little ones. This time they're all girls. Before I could only handle two out of three being girls. That almost killed me. I think I'm better prepared this time.

Every morning, they get up, sleep walk into the kitchen, explode into sudden states of consciousness over breakfast, then take off like a rocket into the day.

They dart, speak without ceasing, plan, scheme, primp, text, talk on the phone and eat in one blur of motion that leaves me feeling I've been struck by lightening. And they don't stop until they collapse at the end of the day ... or ... when Sarah finally pins them down long enough and they fall asleep.

In the most literal sense, they are full of life!

They're rarely sad. When they get in trouble, it's only for a second and before Sarah finishes explaining why they did something wrong they've already moved on to enjoying the next moment.

I think that's what the afterlife is like.

We finally get to really live it up!

Without a body to hold us back, we go everywhere at once.

Four years ago, we watched as my Dad left his body. He used it to say bye to everyone then he took off and never looked back.

The funny thing is, I'm as close to him now as I ever was when he was literally here.

My sister Angi sits with him to watch UGA games and gives him a beer. He looks over me as I cook reminding me of each of his recipes which I'm determined to perfect and pass on to my son Jeremy. My brother David wears his watch to keep him on time. Unlike before, Dad seems to be everywhere at once.

"My hair is brown and yours is grey," Cass, the six year old, tells me.

"It is not," I shoot back, offended that I'm older than I care to be.

But, it is what it is.

I don't know how much life I've got left but the plan is to use it like the girls do.

Then when that parts over ... to do it like Dad's doing it and be everywhere at once.

That's my mortality ... and my immortality.

I feel pretty good about it!

You?

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

God Talking ... Stop Working!

My friend Erin has it all figured out. As she has an operation for cancer today, this is her plan.

"I'll think of you all as I fall asleep. I'm going to try to space travel to keep myself busy during the surgery. Don't be surprised if you hear me whisper in your ear!"

My heart and eyes completely fill as I read this. I explode with emotions of every kind! Instantly, I am completely ALIVE! Just as instantly, my heart flies to a Chicago hospital where she's waiting as she writes last messages to her team and the people who love her.

I need a moment.

There is so much to do today. I didn't get it all done yesterday. I've got to catch up! Now I'm preoccupied and have to get my focus back.

Standing, I face the ocean, feel the sun on my face, the sea breeze kisses my skin and purple clouds dance in a deep blue sky. I send Erin prayer, good Karma and love.

Sitting back down, I open the first email which is a daily musing from my favorite author Frederick Buechner and read ...

"IN THE YEAR 1831, it seems, this church was repaired and several new additions were made. One of them was a new steeple with a bell in it, and once it was set in place and painted, apparently, an extraordinary event took place. "When the steeple was added," Howard Mudgett writes in his history, "one agile Lyman Woodard stood on his head in the belfry with his feet toward Heaven."
It makes me laugh.

A steeple is put on a church and Lyman Woodard, whoever that is, climbs on top and stands on his head.

What a crazy, wonderful, idiotic way to celebrate life!

But then Buechner gets to the heart of the matter, which he does better than anybody, and why he's my favorite. He writes ...

"If the Lord is indeed our shepherd, then everything goes topsy-turvy. Losing becomes finding and crying becomes laughing. The last become first and the weak become strong. Instead of life being done in by death in the end as we always supposed, death is done in finally by life in the end. If the Lord is our host at the great feast, then the sky is the limit (The Clowns in the Belfry)."

I burst into tears again and my heart is absolutely full.

Who can work?

Powerful things are taking place.

God is on the move.

I've got to get ready!

I don't want to miss it!

As I feel a tickle in my ear.

Defining Monday

In the decades I worked in corporate homelessness, I attacked Mondays with a vengeance. I hated the bastard. I took weekends to formulate my plans and hit the ground running as soon as Sunday ended and the sun came up. I kicked Monday's ass!

Then I ran out of gas.

Monday started winning and it paid me back in full.

I've got scars to prove it.

I started to hate Monday as soon as Friday rolled around. A time for celebration turned into the beginning of three days of dread. Sunday evenings dripped sadness and when the sun rose, I was bone weary, drug myself out of bed and sleep walked through the day.

So for a few years, Monday totally dominated, sucking the joy out of me, making me fake happiness, professionalism and enthusiasm.

I didn't recognize it at the time but I was really telling myself that I should be doing something else.

I was too stubborn ... too stupid ... to listen to me so I kept at it and things just got worse.

Depending on how I look at it, either I crashed and burned ... or ... God intervened.

It really does depend on how we choose to look at things.

I left that world and then I didn't know what to do with Monday. Suddenly, it was like every other day ... time to enjoy and make something out of ... something to endure.

It was up to me.

Now, Monday's are a quiet time. I start them slowly. We're like dancers, uncertain of how to begin, tentatively placing one hand in the other before slipping into a rhythm. The work is every bit as intense and demanding but I'm doing things I love again. And I'm doing them with the person I love.

It's what defines the Monday. It's what defines every day.

If you're doing what you love ... with those you love ... it's going to be a good day.

But if you're not, then Mondays are horrible.

Just like every other day.

It's up to you.
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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.

Sign Up Now at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/indepthclasses/

The little things

The older I get the more I appreciate little things.

On a glorious, hot September day in Athens, I celebrate with all of my kids at the same time. They are scattered to and fro upon the face of the earth so it is rare that we're in the same place at the same time. But here we are.

Making it even more of an amazing day is my brother and sister are also with us. It's equally rare that the three of us are ever in the same place at the same time! I can't remember the last time it happened.

Sweeter still is the constant parade of friends wandering in and out of our celebration. Throughout the day each of us have friends from long ago dropping by to greet us with hugs, handshakes and kisses.

Surrounding us are other collections of families and friends doing the same thing. We are in a sea of picnics. Tables flow with food. Coolers are stuffed with drinks. There is music in the air. Smiles are the languages being spoken.

I know that everyone is busy making their own lives. We have our own families, work, dreams, demands and desires. Each of us are making our way in the world. We are growing and often takes us in different directions. It's impossible to go back to the way things used to be. Honestly, we're all too busy moving forward.

A special bond remains between us though it is most often an unspoken one.

For now though, the word has become flesh and we touch each other often while telling stories and reminding ourselves of good times we've shared. We raise a toast to Dad who would have loved the hell out of this.

And it strikes me that the little things are really the biggest things. Too often we get them confused. Life is a gift to be celebrated and today is full of it's best elements ... sharing it with those you love most ... in a glorious place ... on a marvelous day.

For a little while anyway, everything is right in the world.

A Constant state of fear

Goddess and Winston, the little gay dog, live in a constant state of fear.

The beautiful Goddess stays stoned most of the time so she doesn't have to deal with the constant trauma. She's just tries to remain calm.

Winston, the little gay dog, is wearing a sweater vest that says, "Just another Pig in a wig" and is crazy tense about everything. If I shut the Fridge he jumps as if I'd shot a gun. He chews his toenails and remains close to Sarah all of the time.

Gypsy, the gender confused cat, has been in hiding since she arrived, only coming upstairs when Goddess has passed out. I think she's stealing his stash before disappearing into the darkness of his closet.

They are worried scared of I'm going to write about.

Every day, it seems, there are some kind of ramifications.

If I use bad words, my Mother gets on to me.

Writing about my Guardian Angel infuriates the Religious Right who condemn me to hell for not adhering to their beliefs.

The Humane Society has me on their "Most Wanted" List for writing about the Cat Lady next door, her gazillion herd of feral cats and her constant parade of buff lovers.

Regardless of the topic, someone gets upset.

At the same time, there are lots of people who appreciate my writing so they share them, publish them elsewhere and even use them as part of their Sunday School lessons. They're being published and will soon be out in the various book formats in today's world. Almost daily I receive requests to write about this or that.

What do you do?

I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't.

What's got Goddess, Winston, the little gay dog, and Gypsy, the gender confused cat so upset is I might write about the Island Police Department. Whenever I do they get ticketed for barking. Once they received three tickets in one day! They're scared.

That's why I write about most everything ... except the Police Department.

Because we live in a constant state of fear too.

My sign from God

I'm driving off the island and I see that God is available.

Apparently we can get in touch with God anytime we want and its a local call.

There's a bit of promotion on the billboard informing me of this reading,  "Awesome is our God" as if God needs an agent.

It's God for God's sake.

God's availability is set against of a backdrop of a red setting sun ... dropping into yellow water ... with a patriotic sailboat ... somewhere near the Cockspur Lighthouse ... which seems to be directly in front of the often discussed but seldom seen Promised Land.

Apparently God likes "Folk Art" because that's the genre.

Who knew?

My first thought is, "Man that's great! It's good God's so available!"

Like everything though, doubts immediately besieged me, attacking my faith and filling me with discouragement.

"What if" Satan whispers in my ear, "it ain't God whose available but ... it's the sign?"

What?" I say out loud. "You mean money is more important than a relationship with God? In the United States of America? Get-outta-here!"

But the Devil isn't going anywhere.

"You gotta render unto Caesar," Satan kind of sings, "and in the good ol' U.S. of A. you have to make a lotta money to pay a lotta taxes which keep going up so you're forever falling behind."

I jerked the steering wheel to miss the 3000 orange cones placed in the road reducing traffic leaving the island to one lane so the one truck can water the plants in the medium.

"Look Devil," I insist once I see the flashing sign informing me of the speed I'm driving, "All I know is that I've been asking a sign from God for quite some time now and here it is! About time!"

"It's not a sign from God," Satan shoots back. "It's a sign for sale."

"Well it's a hell-of-a lot better than that wimpy thing in front of the Baptist Church! Have you seen it?"

The Devil confesses he has not.

"It says, and I quote, 'You give God the credit? Now give God the cash!'"

Satan shakes his head.

"You know," I suggest sailing through the marsh with the top down on a glorious day, "didn't you get your ass wupped the last time the Devil came down to Georgia?"

"I didn't know he had an electric fiddle," Satan snaps.

"Whatevs," I shrug. "Why don't you go bother somebody else. I've got God's phone number now and I'm not afraid to use it!"

At that moment, Charlie Daniels plays on 105.3 and I know that Satan knows he better keep his ass out of Georgia from now on.

Thank you God!

It's a good day when I get a sign from God.

My Mom the critic

My Mom just got on to me.

Again.

At my age you'd think Mom would be beyond getting on to me but it doesn't bother her at all.

She's got me over a barrel because I'm really glad she's still here!

I miss my Dad and really enjoy my Mom ... well, except for when she's a critic.

Plus, she has an uncanny ability to "set me up" before knocking my legs out from under me.

"I really loved what you wrote about Frank," she begins. "Did you make any of that up?"

"No, that's pretty much how it happened," I reply. "I left some stuff out."

"Like what?"

"While he's having breakfast with me his wife's in the hospital. She was being discharged so he had to cut our visit short to go get her. Can you believe he drove all the way out here just to meet with me?"

"He's always loved you," Mom says and then moves on. "Frank is a wonderful man."

"Now I don't know Erin. Tell me about her."

"We met in Chicago when I was with the Street Medicine Institute. She's great! It's pretty much what I wrote. You'd like Erin."

"She sounds like a wonderful person," she agrees.

THEN!!!!!!!

"You used a bad word the other day in something you wrote. You're better than that."

"You mean when I said 'Holy Shit!' describing what I had to get through to get to Sarah?"

"Don't say things like that?"

I pause to chuckle.

"Mom that's really the way people talk."

"Well you're better than that," she replies.

"Mom they said the same thing to Hemingway."

"Well they don't need to say it about you."

I decide it's time to open the Fridge, get a beer and stroll back outside to the deck. In times like these, it's just best to give up. I want to live to fight another day.

"Yes Mom," I say.

"Good," she says satisfactorily.

"When are you going to write about Goddess again? It's always about Winston, the little gay dog. People miss Goddess."

"Yes mam," I nod, sipping the beer in the setting sun, loving the fact that I have my Mom.

________________________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. His musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.

Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words.

At www.meellc.com

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.


_____________________________

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/

How Did I End Up Here?

How in the hell did I end up here?

Let me be clear about where "Here" is.

I'm sitting under an umbrella, on the beloved back deck of a house I love on an island I cherish filled with people I love and who love me.

Living with me is a beautiful, smart and sexy woman who would knock my socks off if I ever wore socks which I don't.

It is a beautiful morning, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun is playing a game of hide-and-seek between the lush subtropical wall of foliage that I call Fran's Thousand Shades of Green. A lovely breeze is blowing off the ocean and the leaves are dancing in celebration.

It's the day after a holiday and I don't have to physically go anywhere other than take Goddess for a walk beside the Back River where the pungent aroma of the Marsh is as intoxicating as sex on a hot summer's day.

I've got lots to do but this is the "Here" that I have to do it.

Back to the question at hand ... just how in the hell did I end up here?

My life's been a broken jigsaw puzzle full of holes where pieces used to be. Yet it somehow paints a beautiful, poignant portrait of a happy and content man whose heart is full of love and lust for the future. Behind his head is a rich tapestry of a wonderful life with some crazy made-for-the-movies action scenes!

If I were to plot it out on a graph, it would be one confusing chart. In Port Wentworth, Georgia Mom and Dad launched my life and I've been around the world only to land half an hour away from where I was born.

That's just the geography! If it were a relationship graph ... Holy Shit! ... it would like the angry drawing of a child with a red pen scratching back and forth across the lines, mostly outside of them. Through the end result has been three wonderful children, a wife I adore and her three little "blessings" who daily bring home confusion and laughter at the same time which is no small feat.

Yet here I am.

Which naturally makes me think of something Steve Jobs once said.

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma -- which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And, most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

To which I add ... yep.

Is it scary sometimes? Hells Yeah!

Do I want more security than I've got? Hells Yeah!

Do things still go wrong? Hells Yeah!

Would I trade?

No way in hell!

_________________________________________________

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.

Interested? There's still time to enroll at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/indepthclasses/

No Better Place to Run

Hoping on our bicycles, we coast to Butler Avenue gliding pass the stand still bumper-to-bumper traffic. The sidewalks are equally crowded as I wave at Randy "Hatman" Smith playing at Stingrays but he's completely engrossed by the huge audience to notice.

At the street inexpiably named Tybressa, between 15th and 17th Streets, we turn left and stop at Bernie's where there's a line to get inside. Bypassing it, we stroll down the alley into the courtyard where Samuel Adams, Gordo and Davy are playing damn good live music on Tybee Island.

They break into grins as they see us and Sarah kisses each while they're performing. I love them too so I follow suite and also kiss them.

We commandeer a table, tackle a waiter and order.

Gordo leaves the stage to sit with us. We chat as good friends do between his harmonica solos. Sam chides and tells him to take the next verse so Gordo returns to his stool and adlibs "A Pirate Looks at 40" somehow morphing it into a Johnny Cash song.

Sarah and I laugh, feeling very much part of a family surrounded by the crowd of tourists.

Taking our leave, we stroll to where the Swinging Medallions are playing. The Pier is packed but we twist through the throng until we are close to the stage. They launch in "Double Shot of  my Baby's Love" and I grab her hand and we dance.

I love dancing with Sarah, especially with our eyes lock and she flashes her Mona Lisa smile. For a minute we're the only people dancing on the Pier.

The band takes a break so we climb down the stairs to the soft cool sand of the beach. People are everywhere as picnics are spread as families listen to the band while waiting for the fireworks.

"Let's go watch them from the deck," I say so we leave the beach, twist through the crowd again and bump in Barri Marshall whose taking picture for Savannah Spotted. We embrace, she snaps our photograph and we retrieve our bikes.

At the end of Tybressa we hang a right and run right into Esther Guy and the gang at Fannies On the Beach. Sarah jumps off her bike and hugs Essie. There's no place in the bike rack so I lean them against the light post and the party immediately kidnaps us.

Amy Gaster, Joey Spalding, Al, Tee, Ann, Swanny and all manner of party people arrive and we settle in with them and watch the fireworks explode over the ocean.

Hugging everyone goodbye, we climb back on our bikes and navigate through the traffic jam to the quietness of the back side of the island. Goddess, Winston the little gay dog, and Gypsy the cat greet us with an incredible outpouring of affection. We smile as we exhale and relax.

Living on an island where thousands of other people vacation is a funny thing. There's always a circus somewhere. Sometimes its impossible to drive your car anywhere.  Tackling waitresses is an acceptable form of social interaction. When emergencies occur, it's impossible to get on or off the island with it's one way in and one way out traffic jam.

But ... the pungent aroma of the marsh on a hot summer's day is the smell of sex in the Tropics.  Miles and miles of clear blue skies above a sandy beach and vast ocean make me stop dead in my tracts every time. A sea breeze refreshes in ways that inland winds never do. Living in the middle of natures swimming pool is corrupting and my heart is filled with salt water.

We are a crazy people who live here. We're all running to or running from something or someone.

But dammit, there's just no better place to run.

_______________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. Over 200 pages of his musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.
Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words. Release date (pre-order books ship) is September 23, 2013.
Just lick on http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

We Did Good

A smile burst across his leathered face as he sees me enter The Breakfast Club. We were to have met at 8:15 but he'd arrived 20 minutes early.

"Why do make an old man wait?" Val says from behind the cash register as I rush pass ignoring her.

Frank stands and we embrace in the crowded back dining room.

He's frail and his body has shrunk since I last saw him four years ago. Instantly I fill with emotions ... my eyes grow moist, the throat is dry as my arms completely engulf him.

"You look great!" he says, stepping back with his arms still on my shoulders.

His face absolutely beams. Glistening eyes and the crooked smile lets me know he how much he loves me.

A moment is suddenly a thousand years.

Once he was a force in Savannah. Owner of a chemical distribution company that he started from scratch, Frank rose to be President of the Downtown Rotary Club, served on numerous Boards and was a behind-the-scenes Kingmaker. He'd helped orchestrate the Savannah Music Festival, the Paul Anderson Youth Home and was the first big time member of my Board at Union Mission.

We'd met when he'd asked me to speak at the Rotary Club. He stood immaculately dressed in a dark suit, black hair greying at the temples, and bounced nervously as he waited on me to show.

"Mr. Stanton?" I asked.

Confused, he stared at me wearing blue jeans with a blue blazer and a tie. My hair was tied in a pony tail and I was carrying copies of my first book.

"Rev. Elliott?" he asked completely perplexed. "You don't look like a minister."

"Thanks," I said as we shook hands and he led me into the Ballroom.

The speech went well, there was applause and in appreciation Frank bought a book.

Late the next afternoon he burst into my office demanding to know, "Who wrote this?" as he held the book in front of my face.

"Ummmm," I smartly replied at his unexpected intrusion into an already too long day, "that is my name on the cover."

"That doesn't mean anything," he shot back which made me burst into laughter and in turn, he burst into laughter too.

We went on to accomplish great things together: The city's first shelter for women and children, first response to people with HIV/AIDS,  first drug treatment center for women, and health care clinics sprinkled throughout the County for people without heath care which was half the population.

Throughout the decade, Frank smiled and brought countless investors to meet me, gave wise advise and lavished me with the gift of time away from it all. He forever surprised me with trips somewhere so I could relax then be at full strength when he introduced me to the city's decision makers.

I may have been successful without Frank but he certainly made everything happen faster.

He's retired now, living in another town and misses the things that used to be. Life is spent alone with his wife who is ill, he reads old books and every time he watches television he's reminded that life has passed him by.

We spent an hour reminiscing as everyone who works at The Breakfast Club recognized this was a special reunion. They thrust sweetness on us. There was lots of noise but we didn't hear it. The staff patted his shoulder as they refilled his coffee then they rubbed my back to share in the holiness of the moment.

Frank seemed to grow as we  talked then he placed his hand on top of mine ... in front of a very crowded restaurant that suddenly seemed to grow quiet ... in front of the long line waiting on the other side of the window to come inside ... in front of God herself.

"We did good didn't we Parson?" he said softly.

Nodded my head up and down, my voice cracked as I agreed. "We did."

I walked him to his car and we embrace again.

"I love you Frank," I said in his ear.

"I love you Parson," he whispered before lifting one leg with his hand to climb inside his car.

And I watched him wipe tears from his eyes as he drove away.

_____________________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. Over 200 pages of his musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.
Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words. Release date (pre-order books ship) is September 23, 2013.
Just click http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

Music, Jeremy and me

Every morning I fire the computer up and the first thing I do is go to Sirius radio where I'm presented with an array of musical options. Beginning with current hits, I choose genres or decades to listen.

There are DJ's but no commercials.

There are countdowns from this week in whatever decade I pick or guest DJ's like Bob Dylan or Bernie Taupin spinning their favorite wax.

I listen to the Sixties and flip to the Eighties then back to the Sixties.

My son Jeremy loves music as much as I do and the only time we ever had an argument was over the music of the Sixties as opposed to that of the Eighties.

The Eighties had Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince and Run D.M.C.

The Sixties had the Doors, Marvin Gaye, the Who, the Grateful Dead, and the Rolling Stones.

"Jeremy," I said. "They may still write their songs, but they don't play on their recordings, use drum machines and the concerts are Madonna rolling the floor in a wedding dress with no really good guitar solo."

"That's crap Dad," he fires back.

"The Sixties had real music son," I reply. "It was about real stuff. It charged the course of history. That decade of music beats the 70s, 80's and the 90s combined."

"Come on Old Man, 'Love grows where my Rosemary goes? ... seriously?"

He had me for a moment.

"Lady in Red," I counter feeling my confidence restored.

"Yummy Yummy Yummy I got love in my tummy," he shoots. "For Christ's sake!"

"Oh Mickey I love you," I laugh. M-I-C-K-E-Y!"

"TINY TIM," he yells, again painting me in a corner.

So I have to throw the Ace card that I'd been holding back. I savor the moment because I know I have him.

"Beatles," I calmly reply.

He knows that I know that he's got nothing to counter with.

We're more mellow about it these days. We share music with each other often and enjoy going to shows together. Whenever we're together we bring a play list. Music hovers in most everything we do. Both of us think in lyrics.

But I'm missing him today.

I want him to Don't Worry, be happy.

I want him to say Rock Me Amadeus.

I want him to stand with men without hats.

That's enough.

It's time to light my fire.

What Am I Supposed to be?

There's something I'm just supposed to be.

"Before I formed you in the womb," God says, "I knew you."

"I gotta be me. What else am I suppose to be?"

"I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam."

Standing in a lecture Hall at the Morehouse School of Medicine my friend Lucy Hall, a giant of a woman, towers over me flashing her benevolent smile and asks, "So what are you doing now?"

"I'm giving a speech with you," I grinned.

She hits me. A playful love tap from Lucy is like jab from Muhammad Ali and I lose my balance for a second.

"I meant for a living," she grins wrapping her giant black arms around me.

So I tell her.

"I write every day, try to help people, have these classes that help other's help themselves," I shrug. "I dunno Luce. I just try to make everything better."

She has this way of nodding like she already knows what I'm going to say and is pleased at the confirmation as her suspicions are confirmed. Her head bops up and down, the infectious smile grows and her brown eyes dance in delight.

"You're back to being a minister again," she pronounces.

"How in the hell did you come up with that idea?" I shoot.

Muhammad Ali knocks the shit out of me again and I lose balance.

"Shut up," she says in front the Leadership Class arriving to hear our talks.

"Don't worry," the Amazon black woman tells them, "he's my brother from a different mother. You know how we people are."

It's hard to not love Lucy.

Pinning me against the wall she continues, "You're a minister again. That's what you're saying. You an unchurched minister but you're a minister. You were a great CEO. You did things the rest of us haven't done yet. But you've gone back to your roots."

Pausing for few seconds to look wise and holy again, she concludes, "That's good. It's about time."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" I say as she instantly raises her arm while I flinch.

"My brother," she says putting the giant arm around me. "You've stripped all of that other stuff away. You're back to basics. Sarah is perfect for you. You're doing the things you love ..."

She's suddenly lost in thought for a moment giving me the impression she's having a quick sidebar with God. Then her head bops up and down again before the smile returns.

"You scare the hell out of the rest of us because nobody's ever sure what you're doing. Then you leave us amazed by it."

"I don't know about all ..." I begin to say.

"Shut up!" she commands raising her arm making me flinch again.

"You're finally back to being you," she pronounces from on high.

"It makes me glad," she says as her eyes grow moist before smothering me in hug I still haven't recovered from.

_____________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. Over 200 pages of his musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.
Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words. Release date (pre-order books ship) is September 23, 2013.

Check it out at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

Why I Try

I try.

And I try.

And I try ...

But I can't get no satisfaction!

It is true.

Nobody's satisfied for very long.

I'm sailing through a day and everything feels good, pieces are falling into place and all of that good Karma I've sent out is coming back. I can almost taste how good everything's becoming. One foot is about to hit pay dirt in the Promised Land.

Then something stupid happens.

Something is said that hits me as just plain wrong. The bad dream that kept me awake at night is suddenly real in the daylight. Worries take center stage. My worst fears slam into the good feelings, knocking pieces out of place and it's suddenly raining bad Karma.

"What in the hell just happened?" I say out loud.

There's no one to hear it, except for me.

Or maybe its one of the basic of prayers and I'm asking God to explain why everything just went to shit?

God doesn't reply though while I stand there holding a suddenly empty bag.

Emotion wells out of nowhere and I'm suddenly wiping salt water in my eyes, a dry lump grows in my throat and I can literally feel my heart breaking. An indignant sense of injustice erupts and overwhelms me.

Let's be honest, this happens with far more regularity than those wonderful moments when we're satisfied, happy, content and know without the slightest conviction how much love we have.

So we try ... and we try ... and we try ... but just can't get no damn satisfaction.

This is where faith comes into the picture.

I just have to keep believing.

She still loves me when I'm completely unlovely or unloving back. This idea we've been working so hard on, for so very long, is going to be successful.  These hard times will eventually be replaced and everything's gonna be alright. Demons will give way to Angels and bright sunshine casts out all darkness. Good again trumps the bad.

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen."

Yep.

So I keep trying ... and I try ... and I try.
_________________________________
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 ... Check it out at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/indepthclasses/

Peace

"The opposite of war isn't peace, it's creation."

It's a great line from the musical RENT written by Jonathan Larson.

I think its true too. War is about violence and death, social disruption, economic destruction. It's authors are mostly politicians and ministers. "It means destruction of innocent lives," as the song goes, "War means tears to thousands of mothers eyes; when their sons go to fight and lose their lives."

No matter how you slice it, war sucks.

It is true that peace is characterized by a lack of violence, conflict and freedom from fear but the $100,000 question is how do we get there?

Let's be honest, much of the time we're at war with the members of our families. Sometimes in literal ways but more often through suppressed feelings, hidden anger and looks that can kill.

Our children can drive us absolutely crazy and we conjure punishments and prisons, stripping them of the things they enjoy so we can teach them a lesson.

Friends abandon us in our worse times of need, tell us things we want to hear rather than the truth and are suspiciously absent when someone should be standing up on our behalf.

My friend Jimmy Cochran wrote a marvelous thing about his mother recently. He was taking her out for lunch and she's old and is having trouble getting out of the car.

"What's happening to me?" she asks in frustration.

And the peace that passeth all understanding hit Jimmy like a ton of bricks.

He remembers a lifetime in a second. Everything she's ever done out of love for him flashes before him, all of the times she created love out of bad situations, unfortunate accidents, or when she pushed him to be more than he was becoming.

Peace is an easily vanishing experience, especially the kind that surpasses all understanding, and they were quickly back to their mortal selves with her asking him what in the hell he's staring at, helping her elderly body out of the car and admonishing him to not put any of this on Facebook, which he did.

You grab hold of peace and it's gone.

In the end, it really is about creating, because when all is said and done, we're either creating the wars or we're making peace with things.

I don't know about you but I "ain't going to study war no more."

I got better things to do.

I'm heading down to the riverside ...

lay my burdens down ...

talk with the Prince of Peace ...

touch the people I love.
________________________________

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.

check it out at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/indepthclasses/

Parking Problems

Aside from the constant buzz of the unrelenting chain saw two houses away, it's a stunningly beautiful day.

The ocean is flat, the breeze slight, the sky blue as the sun plays hide and seek with puffy cotton clouds. The island is lush and green. Flowers bloom the colors of the rainbow and a choir of seagulls sing.

At least it was that way before the chain saw was cranked.

Now it's hell on earth!

I'm trying to work but can't concentrate with all the damn noise.

When the chain saw is turned off, two men yell at one another as through it's still on.

They are renovating apartments that Poor Pat used to own. She was a pioneer in squalor living developments and they're now being restored to their original squalor by some dude from California.

Our neighbors are all up in arms because the City of Tybee has given approval for the weekly tenants to park on public right of ways ... meaning our front yards.

This is because there are 8 apartments but only 4 parking spaces in front of the development.

To protect homeowners the City of Tybee has given permission for us to build fences on the aforementioned public right-of-way in our front yards.

This is because we cut the grass on the public right-of-ways.

The City of Tybee is busy eliminating public parking spaces because the island has more day visitors than ever before.

In the meantime, our street is a virtual cornucopia of fence displays. There are white pickets, natural posts with ropes, metal fences, wooden fences and the Cat Lady next door has grown her own Rain Forest infiltrated by feral cats to prevent parking in her yard.

Taking an anti-fence position, Sarah placed large red flower pots in our yard which have drawn the praise of our neighbors who hate their fences.

Great!

They've apparently finished because I don't hear the chain saw and they're not yelling either.

Now I've got to get things done.

If I can just block out the sound of the traffic jam on Butler Avenue.

Milley Cyrus and Winston, the little gay dog

Wearing a sweater vest that reads, "Guess why Jack and Phil went up the hill?," Winston, the little gay dog is working on his tan.

"You little son-of-a-bitch," I say, "why are you getting a farmer's tan? Take the damn sweater off."

He ignores me, laying in the sun on his little doggie bed monogramed with the guys from One Direction watching his Kendal.

"What in the hell are you watching?" I scream because he's got it going full blast.

He doesn't hear me.

He's riveted by Miley Cyrus' performance at the MTV Video Music Awards. He keeps playing it over and over. He loves her and is sticking his tongue out every time she sticks hers out.

I throw up a little in my mouth and choke it back down before yelling, "I'm going to tell Uncle Johnny you piece of ..." but stop when Goddess meanders out to survey the situation.

She looks at Winston, the little gay dog, and then at me and then back at him again.

I shrug my shoulders.

She shakes her head and shakes her long golden hair before taking a quick puff from her medicine pipe. She strolls over to Winston, the little gay dog, hikes her hind leg and pees on his Kendal. Goddess shakes her long golden hair again, winks at me and picks up her pipe.

Winston, the little gay dog, is furious and starts jumping up and down while barking furiously. He looks and sounds remarkably like Miley Cyrus.

Goddess giggles and strolls back inside.

Shaking my head I turn up the music on my computer. Gary Lewis and the Playboys drowns out his Miley Cyrus.

God!

It's a Monday!
______________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. Over 200 pages of his musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.

Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words. Release date (pre-order books ship) is September 23, 2013.

Pre-order your copy for $10.95, plus $4 S&H now! Offer ends August 31st.

(Regular price $14.95, plus $4 S&H takes effect 9/1)