Betting the Bank

"Life is short ... even on it's longest days," sings the Prophet John Mellencamp ... "even when your best efforts don't pay."

The words hit me like Scripture.

I don't know how much time I have left but I feel young and believe it's lots of time ... though in the back of my head I know that's not true.

I've spent more than I have.

The days are long right now because ... I don't know why ... most things are going to plan ... little girls tell me how much they love me to begin each day and end every night ... which intensely delights me ... filling my heart ... and I talk to our adult children who struggle being adults ... just like me ... but the financing of it all is not going to plan ... though there are more of us to plan for but I've always loved a challenge.

My wife Sarah went from a family of five and a golden career track to ... ME.

It was a bad career choice.

I went from a burned out, unfocused, uncaring after carrying-the-world-on-my-shoulders-person to the male adult of a family of 13 ... the little ones plus ... Sam Harris ... Terenca, Ava and Nina ... and whoever Kristen's dating.

Let's not get into Inlaws ... it's too mind boggling!

I love my Mom though our schedules don't mesh these days so we don't talk much.

Sarah loves her folks ... and I talk to them when they're here ... which is week after next or so ... and we have established a great foundation for a relationship ... they don't say much to me ... I don't say much to them ... we all work real hard on being nice.

I wouldn't change ... much.

We are where we are and we are here together which is what we've bet the bank on.

Literally!

Love or money?

Money or love?

I've cast my vote.

Coffee

It is extremely rare that I have coffee anywhere other than The Breakfast Club.

It is my home away from home, I love my friends who own it and those who work there, the little group of others who join me each morning and the crazy jump start kick starts to my day.

For almost three decades I've started my days there.

Sometimes when my car's being serviced or repaired, I have coffee at the McDonald's on Whitemarsh Island.

Let me be clear ... I. HATE. McDONALDS!!!! ... though our girls love it so I've been more in the past few years in the past several lifetimes combined.

I do like the "CAUTION HOT" warning printed on the Styrofoam cups as if no one realizes coffee is H.O.T.

It stems from a lawsuit of course when a lady spilled hot coffee on herself in the drive through, sued McDonald's for a gazillion dollars and ... WON!

Sometimes stupid people win big.

That's why it says "Caution Hot" on McD's cups.

Regardless I am sitting in another place for coffee that I do not enjoy ... Starbucks.

The girls L.O.V.E. Starbucks ... not the coffee but the frappies ... because of the way they look ... so I have to go sometimes ... but I never order anything.

I have a meeting with a guy who loves Starbucks so here I sit ... sipping bottled water  because ... thankfully I've already had coffee at The Breakfast Club this morning.

But ... the promise of business is almost like actually having business so you have to work at it.

It's best to understand that last sentence over coffee.

Hell Exist for a reason

Some S.O.B. stole the handicap ramp Bar Church uses to get ... people with one leg or on walkers up the two stairs inside Benny's Tybee Tavern for worship.

It could have been the Methodist Church who are known to use "Crime Scene" tape to block off their parking lot during Orange Crush ... because they don't believe in black people ... though I don't believe it was them.

The Baptists on the island never come out to associate and play with others so it's likely not them either.

The Episcopalians are pretty supportive of Bar Church so if they did it ... I'm sure it was prank and they'll bring it back.

The Catholics don't even know we exist because they think they're the only ones going to Heaven anyway so it wasn't them.

Tybee SPIRIT believes everyone is accessible to God in every way anyway so they have no use for stolen handicap ramp.

It could have been skateboarders because God knows there's nothing for kids to do on this island so they are forced to make their own fun however they can.

Speaking of the City .... it could have been the City ... because I'm pretty certain a Church handicap ramp needs a permit on Tybee ... supervised installation at a fee to the installer ... probably a couple of public hearings ... numerous inspections ... photographs taken by the City Marshall in a Police Car with Police "back-up" in case things go wrong ... so that if aforementioned Church receives a subpoena to Tybee Court ... the City comes packing with evidence ... often in spite of truth.

Hell it could have been the Delivery Truck people bringing things to Benny's because it's easier to lug cases of beer and food up two stairs with a Church handicap ramp than without one.

Whoever it was is one mean S.O.B. I believe is going STRAIGHT. TO. HELL.

Because I was one of the several holding a man with one leg back in his wheelchair on a crowded street ... full of tourists ... causing them to look the other way ... while causing him shameful embarrassment ... to drag him up stairs to ... praise God ... throughout Church I prayed with everything in me to run into whoever ... or whatever ... stole a handicap ramp from a Church.

It's a most shameful beginning to Church for those most needing help in the first place.

And Hell exists for a reason.

And I'm praying for whoever took it but ... well ... Hell exist for a reason.

I hope they find it ... accessible.

Amen ... Rock On!

Standing as part of a seven piece band in front of a packed house on a Saturday night, I take a moment to savor the moment.

At 17 Rick Hudson and I tried to be rock stars and while we thought we were pretty good I derailed our skyrocket climb to the top by having my son.

I thought Jeremy was more fun so the guitar went away until Guy Sayles talked me into attending Seminary.

If you go to Seminary you are expected to go Church ... Guy left that part out ...and after horrific peer pressure expertly delivered by Southern Baptists, I inexplicably became the "Professional Christian" of an inner city church that couldn't afford music.

We have a piano but no pianist ... an organ but no organist ... Hell we even had a set drums but, aside from Jeremy banging on them ... no drummer.

So I called my friend Mitch Wesley, pull out my guitar and we give everything we can to God, Prostitutes, Prisoners and Junkies.

The Church did well in spite of my lack of an attendance policy so Mitch went his own way and the guitar was packed away again.

Sporadically though the years I'd pull it out and ... remember what it's like to make music.

Decades later Samuel Adams, who used to play damn good live music on island, presses Sarah and I to join the Bar Church Band and it's hard to not like Sam ... and whole idea of Church in a Bar ... plus Davy is the drummer ... so I pull the guitar out and we join.

It was a lot of fun until Sam kicks Sarah and me out of the band.

About that time Monty Parks decides to start a weekly jam and I have no recollection of why he asked me or why I attended but I kept playing.

Then Sam kicks himself out of the Bar Church Band ... and Bar Church in general ... and Stephen Gross calls Sarah and I to take over the band we'd been kicked out of.

After a business meeting on the Pier, Sarah, Davy the drummer and I form the nucleus ... maybe it's anti-matter ... of the Bar Church Band.

Lona Crasks joins because ... I don't know why ... she lost her mind and joined.

John Iacovini joins and brings his Groupies with him.

Lots of musical friends ... too many to mention though Roy Swindell, Tom Cooler, Randy Stokes, Thomas Oliver and Jimmy Cochran are among them ... and even for a shinning moment Rick Hudson himself ... rotate through making it all better.

Last night it was Doug Carter from Tennessee laying it down and I realize that my 58 year old love of God and music ... the dream to play live ... with people who are better than me ... in front of a crowd ... has come true.

I'm gearing up for Bar Church now and whisper a simple prayer of thanks that I get to do this for now.

Amen.

Rock On!

Help Me Steal On Tybee!

I need to get a Port-A-John for the Beloved Back Deck.

It won't look good and it probably won't smell good in the summer heat but I have to get one.

There are three bathrooms in our house but let me count the ways I can't use one in a moment of need.

Sarah is asleep in our bedroom and she's had an exhausting week and I love her with everything in me and I don't want to risk waking her up so ... that one's out.

Cassidy, the 8 year old, is asleep in her bedroom with the half-bath, and there's no way in Hell I want her up yet because she will want me to play and ... it's too early to play.

The other bathroom is downstairs meaning I will have sneak though Laurel's, the 11 year old, bedroom and she's asleep then open the door to Maddie's, the 13 year old, bedroom and she's asleep too and that's like waking up Hell and I don't want to go there.

I'm literally left outside.

I love the outdoors and do not mind peeing off the Beloved Back Deck ... in fact, it's my preferred method of urination ... but all the windows are open and I can be pretty elaborate about the splashes I make ... but I love my girls and don't to wake them up.

Plus I don't really have to pee.

This is going to take place all summer and the only possible solution is a Port-A-John on the Beloved Back Deck.

I went on Craig's List to look for "used" Port-A-John's but nobody seems to be selling.

We can't cough up the bucks for a new one.

What I need is several friends to help me steal one.

There are lots on Tybee Island so locating the right one is easy... you know one of those big custom ones ... shouldn't be problem ... because there are limited peeing places on Tybee so, as a temporary solution, the beach is littered with Port-A-Johns.

We can steal one between 11:30 and 1:00 on any weekday when all the cops have lunch at the same time at the Sundae Café.

The issue will be getting it through the gate and up the stairs.

Did I mention I love my girls?

Did I mention I really have to go?

Okay ... let's see who my friends are ... WHO'S IN WITH ME?

When Angels Die

Kids are killed just before they become adults.

Working hard to get to the Promised Land of independence and fulfillment, a truck doesn't stop and five dreamers die.

All girls ... all healers ... all young and beautiful ... from loving families ... with great friends ... each standing on the precipice of realizing their dreams.

All dead.

"Why do bad things happen to good people?" Rabbi Harold Kushner had the guts to ask.

The answer isn't reassuring at all.

God can't do everything.

God is defined as (1) All Loving ... (2) All Powerful ... (3) All Knowing.

At least that's what we believe.

Until you look at realities of life ... unnecessary deaths ... murderous freaks of nature and murderers too ... the suffering of cancer ... and all the "ism's" of the world ... classism ... racism ... sexism ... or as the great Prophet John Lennon concluded "ism, ism, ism."

To reconcile the reality of five Angels dying and God, Rabbi Kushner concludes ...so:

(A) Bad things happen and you can't get around that.

 (B) God is two out of three ... but not all three.

God is either all loving and all powerful but not all knowing ... or All knowing and all powerful but not all loving ... or all knowing and all loving but not all powerful.

You cannot reconcile bad things happening to good people without picking God's "two out of three."

There is a fascinating passage in the Bible ... St. Paul writes ... "creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves ..."

I take this to mean that we're all in it together.

You, me and God ... all groaning towards the completion of creation.

We can't do it without God.

God can't do it without us.

And non-participants drive trucks that slam into cars and ... as much as we wish somebody could have done something about it ...

we're not there yet.

Clowns in the News

Increasingly I shy away from the News.

At ten o'clock most nights Sarah and I watch local news because the newscasters are so damn funny ... not in a humorous way ... but like Saturday Night Live characters who actually believe they are serious newscasters.

They smile and crack jokes delivering bad news.

It's hilarious!

They are celebrities who get paid to be buffoons!

News junkies apparently love bad news which is why FOX News exists.

It's for those who want to mainstream bad news without jokes but ... with sexy girls showing leg and men with pecks in suits.

On Social Media everyone seems to argue about the news ... what's right or wrong? ... Who's right or wrong? ... they get mad and make it personal ... and they get mean about it ... unleash personal attacks ... which leaves me sad ... Civil discourse is a thing of the past ... and I've had way too much sad in my life already.

Of course it makes me think about Soren Kierkegaard who once told this story.

It happened that a fire broke out backstage in a theater.

The clown came out to inform the public.

They thought he was joking, laughed and applauded.

He repeats there's a fire and everyone should get the Hell out before they get caught up in it.

They laugh even louder.

He screams, "There is a freaking fire!"

They fall on the floor laughing.

So Kierkegaard concludes, "I think the world will come to an end amid general applause from all the wits who believes it's a joke."

It's why I shy away from the News, politicians, mainstream religious leaders and the American Country Music Awards.

They're just blowing smoke and acting like clowns.

What is real, Kierkegaard says, is what is in front of you ... take a "Leap of Faith" and believe in the simplicity of what you have ... and not what they tell you.

It's why I stayed in bed with Sarah this morning rather than get up and listen to the News.

One of those days

Sometimes I write.

Sometimes I'm held captive by the phone.

The phone has won so far.

It started with, what may ... or may-not ... have been a butt-dial.

"Why in the Hell would she be calling me?" I ask out loud trying to write.

Returning her call she commences into an avalanche of words far outnumbering anything I'll write.

She goes on and one ... so I take my shirt off and throw it on the chair.

The sun's nice and it's warm and ... well I've been meaning to move plants around on the Beloved Back Deck anyway ... so I put her on speaker and repot plants as she talks like a Congressman on a filibuster.

Lou Reed's singing in the background from my computer as my phone chirps ... so with dirty black hands I pick it up and see Sarah's calling.

I'd really like to talk to my wife but as techno savvy as I am ... I always seem to hang up on someone when I juggle calls and I know she loves me enough to know ... I'm on the phone and suck at juggling calls without hanging up on someone.

"Uh-Huh," I yell from one end of the Beloved Back Deck to the other as the woman speaks without ceasing ... as I move the heavy plants from one corner to the other.

Goddess and Winston, The Little Gay Dog, paw the screen door wanting to come out to be in solidarity with me as the woman simply will not shut up.

The phone chirps and it's Sarah again.

"Hey," I yell at the phone rubbing the dogs, "my next call is at 9:30."

"Oh, aren't you the big man," the woman who speaks without ceasing says. "Fine! I'll call you back."

Hanging up I take Sarah's call.

After a quick message ending with "I love you", my phone immediately chirps and I cuss.

"Well aren't you the big man," the woman who speaks without ceasing says.

"Not really," I answer watching Winston, TLGD, lick himself.

"I'm listening to you on National Public Radio right now," she explains, "while I'm driving."

"That's old," I tell her, "but the best part is Davy Cahill taking his wife fruit during my sermon."

Half an hour later she's finally spent her words, the Beloved Back Deck looks great, the dogs want to go back inside, my tan is deeper and I haven't gotten a damn thing done.

Finally ... I sit and get to work ... when the phone chirps.

It's my son.

There are times in a career when you give everything you have to work or ... you talk to your family and ... work on your tan ... leaving work for another day.

Today is one of those days.

Tybee Island's Color

We live on an island in danger of drowning.

It's not like Hilton Head which may actually sink because of the traffic but Tybee Island is also in danger of going under.

Sarah and I had people park on our grass, pee in our yard, shake booty in our face, leave plastic cups and trash everywhere, carry guns, get arrested and hurt each other.

I love the 4th of July!

And Memorial Day!

And Labor Day!

And Pirate Fest!

And ... well ... Hell ... most any summer weekend day!

We love it all.

Lots of people come though there's not enough parking or amenities ... so everybody drives around searching for a place to park and a place to pee ... when they're already taken ... because there are not enough of either.

That's poor planning on Government's part who do a pretty good job of managing the present but don't know shit the future ... though reelection campaigns are already planned.

They did build a Gym named after themselves that no one uses.

Locals hate event weekends and big crowds because it's difficult being a full-time resident in a tourist's town that's actually popular with tourists ...

We're arrogant enough to believe it's OUR ISLAND when God created it for everyone to enjoy ...

And honestly all we want is to take their money without having to deal with them ...

We HATE THEM!

We LOVE US!

I am a beach bum who's been incredibly blessed to visit lots of beaches though this one's been home base for almost three decades.

I've seen lots of changes in those years ... Tybee Island has become crazy, over-regulated, and overrun with locals.

We love colorful sunsets.

But God we hate any other type of color.

Out of Balance Abundance

Which would you rather have ... Love or money?

Regimented security or freedom with few boundaries?

Solitude or a house full of kids?

Work that allows you to play or making play work for you?

"I've looked at life from both sides now ..." sings Joni Mitchell and I can certainly testify it's true for me.

I'm sure there are some who have successfully "managed" equal proportions of love, money, regiment, freedom, solitude, children, work and play ... but I've never met one.

I think the experience of most is bouncing like a pin ball from love to money ... or money to love ...freedom to obligations ... family to living alone ... play to work or work to play.

This has certainly been my experience.

At a recent breakfast meeting I was "advised" over coffee that life's most serious questions are: (1) Are you in good health? ... (2) Do you enjoy the way you're living? ... (3) Are you going to outlive your money? ... and (4) Are you've proud of what you've done?

Of course it's the "outliving your money" one that's stuck in my head ... though I am comforted in knowing that I can answer "YES" to each question.

Four for four!

I've watched lots of people downward spiral in their lives and countless others "crash and burn" ... and I've certainly my fair share of both ... so my life is not perfectly aligned.

BUT ... I've got so much love in my life I'm often overwhelmed to the point of tears.

I'm more in love than I've ever been and freer too ... though I'm not great at Math and can't quite figure out how.

I have more kids than I can shake a stick at, with all but one being a girl ... and girls simply steal your heart.

I work hard at playing and play hard when I work because it should be fun and fulfilling.

A brilliant sun bubbles out of the ocean illuminating the dew on the lush green leaves and I'm lost in thought when Maddie ... the fifth oldest girl in my life ... sticks her head outside ... and the sun hits her face too and she's stunningly beautiful and she smiles at me and says, "Good Morning."

I 've looked at ... and lived ... life from both sides now but I know which I side I'm on.

Mine is one of out of balance abundance.

I don't know how I ever lived it any other way.

Working With God

"I'm laying here staring at the ceiling tiles thinking about ... oh ... what to think about."

It's a line from a song by the Barenaked Ladies about "Brian Wilson" that I always think about when I can't think about what to think about.

Then Sarah calls and that's all I want to think about.

But she's at work so ... I have to think about other things to think about.

The morning's been full and I haven't been able to find the time to write.

What I mean is writing is pretty easy though the inspiration part seems to be a bit of a bitch at the moment.

When inspiration hits I'm "lost in space" until it's finished hitting ... intensely focusing on the creation taking place ... partnering with God ... and when I'm done ... it's like after really good sex ... I'm happily spent.

In Seminary I paid good money to learn about "Orgasmic Preaching" which is if a Preacher does a really good sermon ... leaving the ladies flush and the men worried ... it was a good sermon.

I don't aim for that when God and I co-create, I just find the inspiration and run with it until it's written out of me.

Then I share and people do whatever they wish ... I like it when they like it ... don't get too bothered about things when they don't ... primarily because I've just spent however long it's been co-creating with God!

If you have an issue ... talk to God.

Who gets to put that on their resume?

ME!

That's who!

I have to be honest ... it doesn't pay much but ... well ... I get to work with God on a regular basis ... which is pretty cool.

OOOPPPS ... there She is now ... telling me to get to work.

I wish Sarah would call back.

I could use a break.

A Bothersome Lust

Choirs of birds belt Hymns majestically.

Legions of Birds dance in Palm Trees.

God's finger painted sky is full of blues and purples with dots of white.

The slightest of ocean breeze blows high so the lush greens of the taller trees sway though nothing moves underneath.

The sea is softly kissing the shore in the distance.

The Wind Chimes ... one for each girl ...hang listlessly ... though it makes me laugh the 13 year olds is all tangled up ... like a 13 year olds should be.

Colorful blooms are reclaiming the Beloved Back Deck and it's now apparent what Winter's killed and must be replaced.

There's been so much rain the weeds succeeded in a hostile takeover of St. Augustine grass where someone should be spending time on their knees ... "pulling weeds and picking stones." 

It's warm so there's no need of laundry.

I sit here staring unbelievably at the little bastard in my hand ... the I-phone.

A writer from New York City wants to interview me ... about something a long time ago ... and I'm really into THIS moment ... though it was a good thing I was part of then ... and the story has a mostly good ending ... though not a perfect one.

I'm far too arrogant to not return his call.

Though I really care nothing about revisiting the past.

I hate dilemmas.

Gypsy the cat scrapes the screen door and cleverly solves the quandary.

I pick him up and we watch the birds sing.

Though ... he has a bothersome lust in his eyes.

And the Goddamn phone keeps buzzing.

The Sacred Store

"I went down to the Sacred Store where I'd head the music years before but the man there said the music wouldn't play ..."

I got that.

I used to hear lots of things I believed Holy that I don't hear anymore.

I don't think it's me as much as  ... things have changed.

As long as I've known me I've been pretty constant with myself.

Yeah, yeah, yeah ... I did some crazy aberrations BUT ... for the most part I'm been remarkably consistent being ... ME.

Why do we have such a hard time accepting ourselves?

I know part of the problem is we spend so much time trying to get others to accept us by meeting their expectations  that we sacrifice everything about who we are to be ... who they want us to be.

Who the Hell are THEY? ... or THEM? ... or Whoever?

I'll tell you who THEY are ... Politicians ... the Clergy (doesn't matter which faith) ... writers of "HOW TO" Books ... Motivational Speakers ... Bill O'Rielly  ... T.D. Jakes ... and Joel Osteen.

That's who tells us what to do.

We're stupid listening to such fools.

BUT ...we do.

We love fools.

That's why FOX News and the LIBERAL Media are so popular and ... or whichever political persuasion you root for ... it doesn't matter ... they're people trying keep you from being you.

The Good News is Hell exists!

God allows it for a reason.

Fools ... those who listen to them  ... and those who follow the stupid stuff ... are already in Hell ... or will eventually end up there.

But ... we've been to the Sacred Store ... where we heard the music years before ...and if the man there says the music won't play ...

Well ... we have to make our own.

Our Tables are still upright

At a kids Christmas party in the Social Hall of the Port Wentworth First Baptist Church, I got a "Magnet Space Wheel" ... a cool toy in those days ... a red rolling wheel that wouldn't fall off it's track even when I hold it upside down.

I'm watching it endlessly when the doors open and a bunch of kids from "The Projects" are ushered into the party.

Port Wentworth is a Mill Town anchored by the Sugar Refinery and the Continental Can Company and there are two sets of "Projects" for those who can't get jobs at either.

The Project kids are different from us regular worshippers ... we are cleaner... wholesome looking ... wearing the latest styles ... and do mean "Sword Drills."

They are scruffy ... apparently don't know where Mr. Smith's Barber Shop is ... wear last year's fashions ... and didn't bring any toys.

The way a Baptist Kid's Christmas Party works is ... I bring a wrapped toy ... you bring a wrapped  toy ... the Adult Baptists mix them up ... before Mr. Blackwelder dressed as the skinniest Santa Claus ever  ... passes them out again ... this time to different people ... making them presents.

I already feel I've won because I brought a little bag of marbles and in return got the Magnet Space Wheel.

The Project kids immediately eat all the cookies and drink the punch on the table intended for everyone.

Standing beside Danny ... our "Special" friend ... it's called Autism today ... I stop spinning the red wheel and listen to Mr. Gannan explain the rules of Christmas presents.

"I'm sorry kids," he kindly says, "you have to bring one to receive one."

To this day I can still see ... and feel ... the look on their faces ... downcast ... holding moisture in their eyes ... sad, disappointed and defiant.

Danny walks up to Mr. Gannan and says, "They can have mine" and hands them a long tube of colored sugar.

"So shall ye give shall ye receive," runs through my head as I watch Mr. Gannan try to figure out what to do.

It's a "Sword Drill" verse ... Luke 6:38 ... that I'd kicked Jerry Boykin's ass on the week before ... but suddenly ... I don't know why ... probably because of Danny's deeper understanding of things ... I join him with Mr. Gannan and hand over the Magnet Space Wheel.

Also to this day ... I can still see ... and feel ... Mr. Gannan's smile explode just before he hugs us and says, "God bless you boys."

I have a vaguer memory of the boy who got MY Magnet Space Wheel staring at it ... turning it upside down in wonderment ... as he carries it away.

"Give and it shall be given to you" ... Luke 6:38

I was excellent in Sword Drills but I don't know if I believe in that verse anymore.

I want to believe it ... and God knows I've been given a lot ... but I've given a Hell of a lot too.

In most ways I've got more than I've ever had ... love, peace, enjoyment, fulfillment and just happiness ... watching Sarah walk across a room ... Jeremy and Terenca's wedding ... the girls eating undercooked Cinnamon Rolls before school as Cassidy explains "We're having them today because we didn't have them yesterday" ... Chelsea and Sam together as adults full of future ... Kristen asking "Why do I have to be the last one to get married?" ... and Laurel making herself wake up to share breakfast with me three days running.

These are my blessings now.

Not disposable income, real security or the confident knowledge I'm going to "outlive my money" ... which is a Banker's goal ... and I'm definitely not.

Life's not a bank account ... where the "Haves" and Have not's" are created ... because they either play by Banker's rules or they don't.

Damn Sword Drills haunt me to this day ... Matthew 21:12 ... "and he overturned the tables of the moneychangers ..."

I'm struggling today.

I've been given a lot but Jesus Christ! ... it cost me a lot!

And I'm certainly not where the Bankers advise.

But when each girl stops and individually turns to embrace me and say, "I love you" ... and then Sarah does too ... as I witness them walk down the stairs ... well ... Danny, Mr. Blackwelder, Mr. Gannam and the boys from the Projects all wander in and point out ... our tables are still upright.

We got to be doing something right.

God only knows!

My Life full of Girls

It's a big day.

My son Jeremy is getting married.

He is bringing Terenca Sullins into our family and together they are bringing Ava and Nina too.

If that's not enough it's also Laurel's birthday!

She 11 years old, full of wisdom and crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn to start celebrating loudly over coffee with me.

Sarah, Maddie and Cassidy all remain asleep in our hotel room.

My life is overrun with girls.

Of course Jeremy's is too ... so we can support each another.

Though his sister Kristen reminded us how much support we're going to need when she ... and I'm not making this up ... put a lampshade on her head at the party last night.

My daughter Chelsea was there too with her husband Sam who seems shell shocked at the number of girls.

I think Jeremy and I are going to have to conduct an "intervention" with Sam.

Anyway, it's a big day!

"What a long, strange trip it's been," the Grateful Dead sang, "for us to get here ... but well worth it!

Happy Birthday Laurel!

Welcome Home Jeremy, Terenca, Ava and Nina!

I wonder how long I have to wait for Sarah to wake up and start celebrating with me.

A Little Girl's Room

It's a shitty day and nothing seems to go right.

All the news gets worse so I try to shut my brain off to not get anymore.

As the sun sets I find solitude in a black bean bag chair full of colorful stuffed animals in a little girl's room.

Pink walls are adorned with butterflies, purple curtains, giant posters of cats, several hundred dolls and lots of original art.

Her beds made because I made it and it looks good with it's purple spread and pink sheets.

Cassidy is a master of unmaking a bed but I do not believe she could make one to save her life.

Not that it needs saving.

At 8 ... she knows everything and if you disagree with her she'll simply say, "I don't get it" ... like it's your problem and not hers.

She loves me in the morning ... stumbling out of bed ... blond hair askew ... wrapped in her pink blankie ... she comes to me and I pick her up and I kiss her forehead.

She smiles and breaths a Dragon's breath.

I ask what she wants for breakfast, already knowing the answer ... her Mom's I-Pad ... so I drop her on her bed as she beams herself into another Universe until I demand she actually eat breakfast.

"I love you Micheal," she says in her little girl way and ... all the love I've ever known in my life explodes in that moment.

You can never have enough love in life.

I think about that on a shitty night.

And though Cass is away, I'm falling in love with her room ... her creativity and genius ... reminding me of Chelsea ... my adult daughter who's also an artist.

Sarah says something I don't hear so I jump out of the black bean bag chair into the kitchen that I also love ... because my wife made it so special ... like the rest of our home.

And as we discuss bad news, I find myself so grateful for having gotten to this point in my life.

Later ... in the middle of the night, with an almost full moon illuminating the waves breaking on the shore ... I return to black bean bag chair ... and thank God.

Hurricane Season ... NOT!

I basically go to 3 places on Tybee Island ... The Breakfast Club ... Monty Parks' Tuesday Night Jam ... and Bar Church.

I used to go to lots of other places but ... they're too far ... so I don't go anymore.

Besides you can get a B.U.I. on island ... Bicycling Under the Influence ... Yep ... there's nothing you can't be ticketed for on Tybee.

I do spend most of my time on the Beloved Back Deck where's it's peaceful and quiet  ... except on Wednesday's at noon when the City interrupts everyone's lunch with an emergency warning that a Hurricane might come ... which is like the stupidest waste of money ever!

Islanders can learn for free that a Hurricane's coming by watching The Weather Network ... or if they really want to guess what's going to happen ... Pat Prokop on WTOC ... but that's too efficient so the City of Tybee spends a gazillion dollars interrupting everyone's lunch on Wednesdays.

"WARNING ... WARNING ... THIS IS NOT AN EMERGENCY ... BUT IF IT WERE ONE ... YOU SHOULD LEAVE ... YOU'LL PROBABLY BE TICKETED ... BUT THAT'S IN OUR BEST INTEREST ... WHEN A REAL EMERGENCY HAPPENS ... WE'LL LET YOU KNOW ... IN THE MEANTIME ... DISREGUARD THIS MESSAGE ... UNTIL NEXT WEDNESDAY ... WHEN YOU WILL BE TICKETED!"

Making it more efficient, we receive a phone call Wednesday mornings informing us that a fake Hurricane announcement is taking place at noon and we shouldn't be alarmed.

I don't know who thought of this but  ... they should be ducted taped in a boat ... shoved out to Sea in a storm ... ticked by the Tybee Island Police Department like everybody else (except elected officials) on the way ... and eaten by sharks.

Though the sharks will probably puke them up on the beach and somebody will get a ticket.

There you go ... I've written about it so ... I'm taking the dogs downstairs and waiting on the police ... for my ticket ... for dog barking ... or avoiding a Hurricane when it's not Hurricane Season ... or whatev's.

Sarah got her hair cut yesterday bringing out her beautiful Gypsy soul ... which is stunningly beautiful for a Southern white boy ... not you Whitley Reynolds ... ME!

Alright ... I can say lots more but like our friend Joanie Woodcock ... I am biting my tongue till it bleeds ... because some things are better left unsaid.

Especially when Government's involved.

Or the Police Department ... which finances Government.

I'm done ... and off to The Breakfast Club for more coffee ... practicing for Monty Park's jam ... and figuring out  Bar Church for next Sunday.

Oh!

Duck!

A Hurricane's not coming!

Singing Birds on Island

"Excuse me ... are those birds singing?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Can I listen for a moment?"

"Sure," I answer holding my phone up to the Palm Trees, blues skies and Wisteria growing everywhere.

After several awkward seconds I ask, "Is that enough?"

"Awe thank you," she says. "That was nice."

"Where are you?" I ask.

"Minneapolis," she sighs.

"Ouch," I say holding the phone back up to the blue sky and the singing birds.

A few seconds later I interrupt whatever she's thinking, "Hey so can I pay this on a monthly basis rather than semi-annually?"

"Of course," she  says, "it'll just cost you a finance charge."

"Fine," I say.

"Where is TEE-BEE Island?" she asks.

"TIE-BEE Island," I explain, "it's an Indian word... Tybee means 'salt' ... it's in the water and it sticks to your skin."

"It sounds Heavenly," she murmurs.

"Yeah, it's nice."

"Where are you that I'm hearing birds?" she suddenly asks.

"On my back deck," I honestly answer ... "I'm working on my tan while I'm working."

"Oh," she sighs.

"You inside?" I press.

"Way," she confesses.

"Well you should come," I suggest. "It's a nice crazy place. If you like crazy you'll like here."

"Nice," she says.

"Yeah," I muse, "everyone who lives here is either running away from something ... or running to something ... it makes for interesting conversations in the Bars."

"Bars?" she asks.

"Oh yeah," I explain, "we got 10.3 bars for every church ... Honestly we even have Church in a Bar."

"Really?" she exclaims.

"Oh yeah," I multitask spraying sunscreen while cradling the phone on my shoulder.

"I'm coming," she announces.

"Can you cut the finance charge?" I pounce recognizing my opportunity.

"I wish," she says.

Hanging up I say to myself, "Oh well" ... as the birds sound nice ... the purple of wisteria is mind numbing ... and waves crash in the distance sound like a Symphony.

Sometimes it's where you are.

And not what you pay that matters.

And being here is enough.

Especially when you're with who you're supposed to be with.

What makes God G.O.D.?

I was falling like the Alamo, drinking fast and talking slow ..."

Isn't that a great line?

Hayes Carll wrote that/

I love great lines!

"Doubt is the Ants in the pants of faith," 

So says Frederick Buechner ... my personal favorite writer.

"It's getting better all the time," says Paul McCartney ... "It couldn't get much worse,"  answers John Lennon.

That's funny and true!

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."

God I love Hemingway ... in spite of the asshole he often was ... the man could write beautiful truths.

"Beloved if God so loves us then we should love ... each other."

As ... whoever wrote 1 John proclaims... and it wasn't John who was long dead by the time these words were written... pulls off the most incredible slight of hand of them all.

Written in classical Greek ... a very methodically language ... it should be logical ...

"Beloved if God so loves us then we should love ... GOD!"

That's what it should say.

And that's how most people believe.

After all it so damn much easier to love God than it is other people.

To Hell with other people!

They are pains in the ass and I hate lots of them.

BUT ...

well ... if whoever wrote 1 John is right ... and I suspect he ... or probably she is ... then you love God by loving others.

And if you're just loving God ... in your Church ... in your Home ... with your Bible ... in your own way ...without loving others ... I hate to break it to you ... but you're going to Hell.

In fact you're probably already there.

No wonder the author of I John decided to lay low and remain anonymous.

It's way too radical for God to prefer adoration by loving something other than ... GOD!

Holy Shit!

But I think that's what makes God ... GOD.

Easter Basket Clues

As a kid ... my Dad delighted in celebrations.

One Christmas he put on boots, climbed on the roof of the house and stomped the Hell out of the shingles so my brother David and I couldn't sleep at all because Santa was here!

On Easter he didn't hide Easter Baskets ... he left clues for them.

We'd wake up, rush to the Fridge for breakfast and find a note from the Easter Bunny.

We'd have to figure out the strangest things ... "under the pillow on the left side of the smallest room" ... or "There's only one drawer full of panties" ... and we'd rush all over the house and the yard finding more clues ... until finally we found Baskets full of chocolate Bunnies, Marshmallows, colored pencils and plastic grass.

Years later I did the same for Jeremy, Kristen and Chelsea and I delighted in their figuring out the clues just as my Dad did.

Now I get to do it again for Maddie, Laurel and Cassidy who laugh and cackle and rush around our house until they finally discover the joys of Easter.

Sarah is horrible at waiting to give gifts ... and I have Bar Church ... so we started celebrating early.

Ten hidden clues leaves them scratching their heads, screeching in comprehension and running off to find the next instruction.

We delight and it's a much better way to celebrate a holiday and make it memorable.

"Are their going to be clues again this year," the girls asks over the past several days.

They joyfully relish each note until reaching the grand prize.

It reminds me of my own childhood ... my Dad who's dead now ... the kids ... and the joy of children celebrating gifts.

It's a celebratory thing for Sarah and me.

It's not about living in the past but still enjoying parts of it to this day.

And passing on my Dad to our girls ... through the kids ... and lots of other things in between.

We celebrate resurrection on Easter and today my Dad is alive as ever in notes with clues for little girls gushing with joy that we've figured out a way for him to be here.

I hope our children do the same so Dad's celebration of Easter lives on.

Just like Jesus does.