Closet Excavation!

Sarah and I are sitting in the floor in the Red Room going through boxes long hidden in my closet.

The boxes have been on the top shelf or in the corner of the closet floor for years.

Out of sight ... out of mind.

That pretty much sums up my closet.

Cracking the door open, sticking my arm inside, I find a pair of black running shorts and a tee shirt ... every color matches black ... and put them on.

Sarah's closet is meticulously organized through she can't possibly fit anything else inside and has begun "coveting" my closet ... which quite honestly ... I have no idea what's in there.

There some Union Mission clothes I have no need for ... a tie Chelsea gave me when she was little ... a tuxedo I hope to never wear again ... shoes I hate ... and God only knows what else.

"Honey," I say to my wife who I adore than anything ever, 'Thou Shalt Not Covet. It's one of the Ten Commandments."

"So," she says. "You've broken more than me."

"Damn," I think to myself, "she's right again."

Anyway ... because I love my wife ... I actually opened my closet door and pulled out boxes of ... I have no idea ... boxes ... and not wanting to carry them downstairs ... I left them in the Red Room ... which Sarah immediately spied ... and suddenly a nice night of my head in her lap was evilly transformed into sitting in the floor looking at every single thing in those damn boxes.

I'll cut to the chase ... aside from a couple of funny letters from Bill Berry (not the former drummer from REM but the other one) ... it was mostly crap ... news clippings of things that no longer matter ... old pictures ... awards ... and reports cards.

"Seriously" Sarah asks sitting there with those beautiful legs, "you made D's in English?"

"I don't remember ever taking English," I lustfully reply.

BUT ... the excavation of my closet has begun!

Sarah is beside herself as Mother's Day looms ... which is also her birthday ... because she's getting more closet space ... and I'm discovering just how much past I have buried.

To celebrate everything ... the girls and I decided we're having Key Lime Pie for her Birthday ... as she pries things out her closet to loosely hang them in what used to be mine ... we will celebrate O.U.R.S.

That's all there really is anyway.

The World is made of Glass

I know what it's like to do something you hate.

Go to work ... or home ... or to other people's houses.

At the end of my days saving the world I couldn't bear to go to the office anymore ... the aroma was heavy and depressing ... regardless of how I pumped myself up ... the smell immediately left me depressed and sad.

The people did too ... all wanting more than they were willing to give ... all taking with the expectation I'll always deliver ... each wanting more at the precise moment they're receiving.

The last several months ... thanks to technology ... I went to a coffee shop on Chippewa Square, turned on the laptop and communicated with everyone from a distance ... because I could no longer bear their sight ... touch ... smell ... sound ... and unceasing demands.

The truth of the matter was I had nothing else to give.

Though I never gave up ... which was a gross mistake ... sometimes in life it's best to give up.

Of course once you do ... you have to start over.

"God's greatest gift," says Elie Wiesel, "is the chance to start over."

God's been good to me.

I've started over a lot in my life ... and am doing it again.

Sitting in the dark on the back deck in the middle of the night ... full of frustration and non-understanding ... I think of something I haven't in years.

"Commit a crime and the world is made of glass," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson. "Some damning circumstance always transpires."

In worlds made of glass you can see everything regardless of how much you hide ... and things break to the point of no repair.

One of my favorite writers ... Morris West ... wrote a book about a rich woman overcoming childhood incest and the damnation of the Catholic Church ... on women and incest and sex ... so she has a single visit with Carl Jung ... the inventor of analytical psychology.

It's a great book ending in a convoluted mess because ... life is often a convoluted mess.

I think the secret is choosing what's good and doing your best with what's bad ... and everyone comes down on one side or the other ... because there's always good ... and there's always bad.

"Why do you do this every day?" I'm asked. ""Put yourself out there ... say what you feel ... question the majority ... dig through the past searching for clues to why I behave the way I do now ... celebrate your NOW in flamboyant ways ... juggle the light with the dark?"

I believe it's because the world really is made of glass and I'd be foolish to hide it ... and what I do ... when it's all transparent anyway ... perhaps just to you ... or your lover ... or the whole damn world!

I don't mind the transparency ... in fact I welcome it.

I do care when glass breaks and worlds fall apart.

I've seen ... and lived ... far too much of that in my life.

Sunday Cinnamon Rolls

Watching the sun rise through the Palm Tree with the oyster face, coconut bra and grass skirt, choirs of birds sing Hymns of Praise to the birth of this day for an audience of one.

Sitting on the Beloved Back Deck under a deep blue cloudless sky, Fran's thousand shades of green glisten in the sunshine, dripping dew from the night.

Goddess lays under my bare feet and I rub her white golden fur.

Squirrels play in the trees, the pungent aroma of the Marsh ... the smell of sex in the Tropics ... fills the air and, in the distance, waves are the kissing the beach.

Golden rays flood the yard, illuminating the yellow, purple and red blooms of the plants I tenderly care for.

A door slams causing the birds to cease and the stopping the Squirrels dead in their tracks.

Turning I spy Cassidy, the 8 year old, wrapped in her blanket, blond hair askew in every direction, stumble into the kitchen looking for me.

Goddess' tail wags as she jumps up and paws the sliding screen door.

Following her inside, I pick Cass up and she rests her head on my shoulder.

"Are the Cinnamon Rolls ready?" she sleepily asks.

"It's too early," I whisper because everyone else is still asleep.

"Aw," she sighs.

The birds resume their Hymns.

"Why don't you get back in bed and I'll get you when it's time to put on the icing."

The girls fight to lick the plastic container and the knife once the rolls have icing.

"Don't lick a knife!" I scold. "You're going to cut your tongue off."

They lick it anyway.

I place Cass back in bed and return to the kitchen ... where Laurel the 10 year old waits ... blond hair askew in every direction.

"Are the Cinnamon Rolls ready?" she asks.

"Not yet," I reply. "Go back to bed."

"Call me when you put the icing on," she yawns.

"Sure."

Strolling outside I thank the Heavens, the birds, Squirrels and the rising sun for a prayerful, peaceful beginning to this day.

Turning I make my way to oven because if I don't get these babies baking ... all Hell's going to break lose and ruin a beautiful day that the Lord has made. 

A Vanilla Blog

"Why did you write that?" she sighs.

It's not my Mom this time.

Mom's forever asking me before proceeding to get on to me if when I use "bad words," chiding me and reminding "You were raised to be better than that!"

It wasn't my wife Sarah either.

My writing typically leaves her speechless and she refuses to bring it up at all unless she thinks I'm thinking too much about the past when we have so much present to live and future to plan.

It wasn't Sarah or Mom this time ... it was Judy O.

"Why did you write that," she asks.

"Me?" I cleverly deflect the antagonistic question ... I haven't even finished my first cup of coffee at The Breakfast Club.

"Tybee does not hate black people," she clarifies.

"Yeah we were just counting the number walking by," I smile.

"Gay black people," Johnny O further clarifies.

"Yeah," I agree, "gay black people. We haven't seen one yet."

"Well don't write that kind of stuff," Judy O says sounding like Sarah and Mom.

"Fine," I agree because I love Judy and Johnny O, "I'll write something vanilla today."

"That's great!" Johnny O and Judy O say at the same time.

"It'll be about white people," I let them know in advance.

So I've come up with a new game based on living on Tybee Island for those who don't live here but want to ... or for those white people who want to know exactly who lives here.

Whitley Reynolds is going to help me design a plotted map of the island showing every dwelling.

In the middle of the map is a string to calculate the radius of how far your house is from (a) a Gay Person ... (b) a black person ... (c) a politician ... (d) homes without children ... (e) number of cop cars ... (f) everybody else.

There will be little pins to mark the homes ... (a) rainbow colored pins ... (b) black ones ... (c) green puke colored ones ... (d) a couple of transparent ones no one can see ... (e) a couple of hundred pins with little flashing blue lights and (f) and ones with dollar signs on them.

You can have fun plotting who lives near you ... even if you don't live here yet and plan on buying a house from Judy O ... or the Soul Sisters ... or a Gaster ... you'll know what you are buying and it'll be fun knowing what's around you.

This is going to significantly help keep people excited about Tybee when they're stuck in traffic trying to leave the island ... or come on the island ... or waiting on the Cop to finish searching their car without a warrant.

Well I have to go ... wait on Whitley Reynolds to call me back ... put our house on the market ... take Goddess and Winston The Little Gay Dog downstairs to wait on the Cop who's going to ticket for writing this blog ... wave at my gay neighbors ... and brace myself for what Sarah, Mom and Judy O are going to say to me about this.

Good News from Tybee Island!

It's Friday and after all of the horrible news around the world ... especially Baltimore ... and that guy who hung up on the Pope TWICE DURING THE SAME PHONE CALL ... can you spell J.E.R.R.Y. R.A.I.N.Y.? ... I am happy to report there is Good News on Tybee Island!

First though, I like Pope Francis!

He's "Sinner Friendly" and who doesn't like that?

Well ... T.D. Jakes, Joel Osteen and his bleach blond wife, Charles Stanley, and the Tybee Island Methodist Church who uses crime scene tape for worship don't ... but Pope Francis is great!

"You've sinned ... I've sinned ... everybody loves sin!"

"I scream ... you scream ... we all scream for ice cream?"

That's Pope Francis's message.

What's not to like?

After the racist debacle of  "Orange Crush" ... where the citizens of Lewis Avenue stole barricades from the Georgia Department of Transportation to block black people from driving down their street ... things have gotten better.

While Tybee Island doesn't like black people ... Tybee Island LOVES GAY PEOPLE!

It makes me proud.

Not the first part about black people but the second part about Gay People.

It's Gay Days on Tybee and honestly ... the entire island is mostly financed by Gay People ... though politicians and Church officials deny this.

The island's mostly Lesbian ... they ran most of the Gay guys off ... but occasionally invite them back to dance ... they do a really excellent job of maintaining the things about living on an island that you really love about island living in the first place.

They have great parties ... much better than anything the American Legion throws.

Tomorrow's a Gay Pride Parade and everyone is looking forward to it.

Sarah, the girls and I will be there!

We can't wait to celebrate island acceptance.

There's only one thing that worries me ... I hope there are no black Gays here ... the island will go nuts.

We're a tiny island and can only stand so much.

Top 10 Things for Kids to do on Tybee Island, GA

Our house is an anomaly on Tybee Island for many reasons ... meaning we have children.

There's not a lot for kids to do on-island because it's overrun with childless adults who could care less about anything other than when their grandchildren visit during the summer!

Year round there's not many activities for our girls to take advantage of on Tybee because all the structured, financed, planned functions are for old people.

The current big controversy on-island ... well if you don't count Orange Crush ... is if the City will build a public pool?

City leadership refuses to make the call and put it out for a referendum in November because they don't want to be blamed if the pool fails ... so they want the public to demand it be built ... rather than make a decision themselves ... which is what they are elected to do.

A decade ago City Leadership did have the guts to make a decision and built the "Yoeman Solomon's Gymnasium" ... named after two politicians ... which nobody really uses ... because it's inaccessible and expensive ... plus it's built backwards, is ugly and occasionally opens for kids to use.

It was one of the worst councils ever elected ... unless you talk to anyone's who's elected ... then they were great ... and have a Gym to prove it.

I think the people on-island will demand a pool be built ... because they are too old to play basketball or roller skate in a Gym ... but they will flock to water aerobics with floats!

Of course there will be no available parking for the new "Old People Pool" ... because there is no parking on Tybee Island ... just stroll down the ocean side of 12th or 13th Street and count the number of yellow curbs for no apparent reason ... the island could have more parking but doesn't want it.

Honestly I believe we're morphing into a "Gated Community" which is what old people love.

But I digress.

This is the top 10 list of things for kids to do and enjoy on Tybee Island, Georgia.

1. Go to the beach.

2. Pick up a dead cannon ball jellyfish and toss it to your Mom or Dad to scare tourists.

3. Count the number of police vehicles and lifeguards on the beach (and to make it more challenging count the number of people being ticketed for simply being here  ... this will soon become a more challenging game when plastic bags are banned).

4. Take your friends to the top of the Lighthouse so you can spit on tourists entering the Lighthouse ... BY FAR ... THIS IS THE MOST EXCITING ACTIVITY FOR KIDS WHO LIVE ON TYBEE OR ARE VISITING!

5. Get your Mom to drive to drive you to the Wilmington Island YMCA to go swimming in the pool, play soccer, run the track, and actually meet fellow young people!!!!

6. If you are an older kid ... screw in the Dunes after 5 when the Lifeguards and Cops stop patrolling the beach.

7-10. There are none.

I hope this is helpful because I love this place but our girls keep asking me "What are we going to do today?"

It strikes me that, if they're asking ... then other kids are asking too ... so this is for them.

Now I'm going to go outside with our dogs and wait on the Police Department to ticket me for barking ... as Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, sleep in the grass.

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!