VOTE!

This privilege/responsibility is the envy of many oppressed peoples and was purchased, and is still provided today at a very high price.

Even if you think you won't make a difference, even if you feel you are choosing between the lesser of two evils, and especially if people have tried to convince you that your guy is a losing cause - VOTE!

I won't presume to tell anyone how to vote, but as for myself, I vote pro-life, pro-second amendment, pro-originalist judges, pro-freedom of religion, pro-freedom of speech, pro-small business, pro-energy independence, and anti-big government.

Not To Over-Spiritualize

I don't like to over-spiritualize things. In fact, despite all of the miraculous things I see and hear tell of, God seems to work with and through me mostly in practical, though no less mysterious, ways.

While in Poplarville, Mississippi escaping the ravages of Gustav, I desperately searched my mind for some deep insight or some super spiritual thought to ponder, or blog about, or at least to calm my own mind with. As of today, I still pretty much had nothing – no revelation to share, no heartfelt no-need-to-worry-everything-will-work-out speech, no deep insight on how to handle adversity.

In fact, I wasn't handling my current circumstances particularly well. Up to this point in the evacuation I had pretty much mentally and spiritually checked out and engaged auto pilot or gone into some kind of maintenance mode. Others seemed to be coping far better than I, even when their situations were worse.

Since all of yours are probably infinitely more interesting than mine, I won't get bogged down with the mundane details and bore you all with my Gustav saga. Suffice it to say that it included much driving in traffic, and periods of being crammed into small rooms with several relatives and a smelly dog, offset by times of utter aloneness at our family camp miles from anywhere or anyone.

Manning that lonely outpost necessitated driving into town for groceries periodically. Upon returning “home” from one such excursion, I hauled in a few victuals. In my current circumstance, this entails pulling up to the gate, disembarking my vehicle, unlocking said gate, re-embarking said vehicle, proceeding through twice-said gate, disembarking twice-said vehicle, re-locking thrice-said gate, then re-embarking thrice-said vehicle to drive to the camp for one final disembarkation and the actual unloading.

Yes, I said victuals, this rustic setting is beginning to affect my vocabulary. Also, I find myself hankerin' (yes, I said hankerin') for biscuits and gravy, craving country music, and feeling a greater than usual, almost unnatural affinity for my truck – but I digress (apologies to Chuck).

(Here Todd is penalized 15 yards (YES! Football season is here!) for the above overuse of colloquialisms, multiple digressions, and bogging down in mundane details after saying he would not.)

After hauling said victuals from my truck into the camp, with dusk approaching, I walked back outside.

Standing there in that blessed solitude, I took in the beauty of God's creation. I was overcome with wonder and gave praise to Him who created all - billions upon billions of stars in countless galaxies stretching unimaginable distances just to provide a suitable dwelling for us, His beloved. As He finished the work of creating, He scanned the totality of His creation, all of it's height and breath and depth and all of time from beginning to end. From sunsets, created simply for our enjoyment, to storms, intended for our testing, He pronounced it all very good. In that moment I agreed with Him and worshiped.

As my spirit basked in and mind reflected on this, a huge meteorite shot across the evening sky, just above the trees. It was an event that lasted only about two seconds, not even a blink in the grand scheme, and only a blink or two in my day, but as I sit to write, it's affects still linger. There was something undeniably spiritual about it all. It was as if I had shaken off my numbness and reemerged from my stupor a whole being once more in touch with his creator, who gave tangible assurance of His approval.

Coincidence? I say God wink. Not to over-spiritualize, but they always seem to come at just the right times.

My Favorite Bumper Stickers

Honk If You Love Peace And Quiet

Death To All Radicals!

Eliminate and Eradicate Redundancy

W

This has been stuck in my craw for quite a while now. I offer no apologies and just hope that all of you 'dubyah' haters out there will still respect me in the morning.

I am not now, I have never been, and I have never portrayed myself as being, overly political. It is not the aim of this blog to argue politics. However, I am politically aware, and I do keep up with current events. I even investigate, and try to make some sense of the anti-Bush railings that I hear conspiracy theorists, and rest of the tin-foil-hat crowd, put forward. I have seen a lot of the 'evidence' of these grand conspiracy theories and, to me, it is severely lacking – almost laughable.

Now, I know that I cannot convince conspiracy theorists of this any more than they can convince me of their position. And, it is not my intention to argue all of the minutia here. I simply feel an obligation to defend a good man who I feel is being unjustly ripped to shreds by people with nothing but either pure political ambitions, or even worse, thinly disguised socialist intentions. In my opinion, liberal leaders are playing on people's fears to score political points and amass power for themselves.

I seriously doubt that Nancy Pelosi, or Harry Reid, or Ted Kennedy believe even half of what comes out of their own mouths. Conspiracy theorists have just provided them a handy stick with which they can beat their political opponents over the head. And sadly, in today's culture, filled with people who do not investigate and/or think things through, it is easy for this kind of nonsense to proliferate. It is amazing how easily people jump on and back off of any particular band wagon based solely upon a few sound bites. It seems as if all that is necessary for a lie to be accepted as truth is repetition; especially if a lot of the repetition is from what people consider reliable news sources that they assume have no political leanings or agenda of their own.

Add to this bloggers who can write anything they wish with no accountability and no proof, and you have the perfect breeding ground for this kind of almost believable, almost strange and outrageous enough to be true innuendo and accusation to gain a foothold.

Please don't get me wrong here. The problem is not bloggers, or even the news media. Thank God we have the freedom to express our opinions! The problem is that people are intellectually lazy. People do not take the time to dig and examine the facts and consider all sides of an issue or a story. If CNN reports it, and the 'facts' are corroborated by some guy with a tin foil hat, living alone in the mountains, who believes Elvis is still alive and Bush is part of a grand conspiracy, then it must be true.

Truth be told, I really like George W. Bush. I do not agree with all of his actions, but I respect the man. His decency and strength of character stand in sharp contrast to the spineless, politically correct, flip flopping, deceptive, politicians who jeopardize our nation's future for their political gain. His steadfastness is the complete antithesis of those who turn this way or that depending on the prevailing political winds, and pander to our enemies who would destroy us without hesitation if we gave them an opportunity. Even when he has made decisions that I disagree with, I believe that he made them because he genuinely believed them to be in the best interest of the United States of America which he swore at his inauguration to protect and defend.

He is a man of courage and conviction. And, if history is written accurately, by men of honor, with no partisan ax to grind, I believe he will be exonerated and honored, and that history will indeed treat him kindly.

Getting Reacquinted With My Cookware

My mom and dad blessed me with a little deer sausage a few days ago. I decided to fry up a piece for lunch. Now, I'm not saying it has been a long time since I've cooked, but when I dusted off my skillet and put it on the stove ... it started yelling at me ...

"Hey! Who are you?"

"Why are you throwing raw meat at me?"

And, "why the @%* is it getting so hot in here?"

... which kind of shocked me! My cookware never used to use expletives like that ...

Perhaps it's time my cookware and I get reacquainted. No telling what kind of trash talking I'm gonna get from my gumbo pot ...

Delfeayo, Conquistadors, Pharisees, and Wisdom

It is so easy to overlook the wondrous things around us. Though they are always there, or perhaps because they are always there, we take them for granted. This spring I have been on a conscious quest to make some time to appreciate at least a few of these things.

In the past few months I have discovered Franklin, St. Francisville and the Clark Creek Natural Area and rediscovered Grand Isle, Mandeville, Abita Springs, Ponchatoula, and several other relatively nearby locales that I have long taken for granted.

In keeping with my motif of getting out and doing things I have not done before and discovering and rediscovering my own back yard, I did something this weekend that I had never done before.

Just up the road, about an hour away, lies New Orleans. The wealth and diversity of cultural and epicurean delights to be found there are virtually endless. Now, I have lived between one hour and one half hour from N'awlins all of my life, and yet had never been to a jazz club. Can you imagine living that close to the home town of Harry Connick Jr., Wynton Marsalis, Irma Thomas, and multitudes of other notable musicians, a place where you can find world-class jazz pretty much any night of the week, any week of the year, and never having taken advantage of that?

Now, in my defense, I just wasn't raised that way. Having grown up in a pentecostal church, in my mind jazz clubs were smoke-filled, tawdry, dens of iniquity wreaking of cheap cologne and stale booze, ... or cheap booze and stale cologne. And you could definitely make the case that there was little reason for a good Christian man to be in that environment. And there are many places in the French Quarter like that, places there would be little reason for me to patronize.

But, there are also some real gems to be found. I, and a couple of dear friends, found just such a little nook and enjoyed a wonderful evening of music provided by a member of one of New Orleans' premier musical families, Delfeayo Marsalis, and his band.

The scene I beheld was exactly NOT what I expected or had long envisioned. Instead of drunks trying to hit on my friends, I saw nice, polite people of many ethnicities enjoying very sophisticated music. I saw an older couple tenderly holding hands during a particularly romantic tune with a long lulling trombone solo. The mood was happy and the music was great. Musically I heard intricate melodies, subtle phrasing, complex chord constructs, mathematical rhythms, and a joyous energy that ranged from frenetic to genuinely romantic in the best sense of the word.

Preconceptions are very rarely accurate. Whether they be about people, places, or things, they usually mislead us ... and you know what they say about when we ass-u-me ...

Sometimes we have a gut reaction upon meeting someone that turns out to be exactly right. Other times, we make assumptions or sweeping generalizations, sight unseen, based upon no information, or second hand information, that lead us to faulty conclusions and preclude us from experiencing all of the good things that God provides for our enjoyment. I was recently speaking with a friend about these things. We ended up exchanging cliches like "don't throw out the baby with the bath-water" and "eat the fish, but spit out the bones". Sometimes cliches stick around for a reason - they encapsulate a fundamental truth about life.

Unfortunately we, as Christians, are sometimes the very worst regarding this. In our vain attempts to portray ourselves as what we believe appears spiritual and holy, we end up like the Pharisees, believing that holiness is derived by not going certain places, not eating certain things, and not interacting with publicans and sinners. This leads to an arrogance that is very unappealing to the very people we say we hope to win to God's Kingdom.

I am reminded of some of the first missionaries to the new world.. On the whole, they simply trashed the local religions. This stands in sharp contrast to the way Paul used the Athenians belief in an "Unknown God" as a starting point to bring them knowledge of The One True God. I believe that we make the same mistake when we simply trash other's way of life. It would be more profitable to start where they are and show the way from there.

For instance, it seems to me that starting with the beauty, emotion, and mathematical structure of music and working toward God from there, is much more in keeping with Paul's methods and much more effective than simply saying repent, you evil man with your devil music!

Of course, as with all things, there is balance in this. I am not saying that we should all get out and start going to clubs and that if you don't you're a Pharisee! I guess I'm just saying that we should not simply dismiss things out of hand. Maybe we should give a little thought and some prayer as to what things we do or do not do, and why we do or do not them.

This requires wisdom. Happily, this is something that, when asked for, God gives liberally.

plumb my depths

look deep into my eyes
the windows of my soul beckon

do not avert your gaze
plumb my depths

can you fathom the pain you see
does it touch your stone cold heart

is shame or guilt awakened when you ponder what you have done

look deeper still
the windows of my soul offer no resistance

do not squelch your curiosity
plumb my depths

can you fathom the strength residing there
does it shock your preconceptions

is understanding awakened when you behold my visage set like flint

look once more
the windows of my soul are unshuttered

do not fear your fate
plumb my depths

can you fathom forgiveness you do not deserve
does it soften your critical nature

is repentance so hard knowing mercy trumps judgment

in my eyes

in my eyes you were goodness itself
i saw in you everything that i idealized

perhaps i saw through rose colored glasses
perhaps what you once were, you are no longer

has my vision become clearer
or have you morphed into a different creature

now i see only deception and unfaithfulness
the hollow, soulless shell of one i loved dearly

i steal a glance into your vacuous gaze
there is no life, no light, no beauty

the starkness moves me to tears

Sometimes I Really Love My Job or What's In A Name?

Sometimes enjoying the simplest little things in life can make a day great.

Today I traveled a scenic highway from Nacogdoches, Texas to Natchitoches, Louisiana (practically the same pronunciation).

Along the way I noticed a hair salon called "Curl Up and Dye" -

just past Lickskillet Road.

What a great day ... probably the best since I first came across Kickappoo Road ...

I would love to know the back story behind the name Lickskillet Road ... Kickapoo Road ... not so much.

poetic release

a treasure once hidden is now revealed
feelings find release in newfound freedom

a heart lies broken and bleeding
a quill drinks in the blood and the angst

a virgin page is sacrificed
the offering is exquisite, bringing release

reverently we watch as past hurts, like wisps of toxic smoke, drift away and dissipate

Another Good Man Facing Tragedy

The news brought me to tears.

Those of us familiar with Steven Curtis Chapman, his music and his family life, know what a Godly, family-oriented man he is. On his albums you will find numerous songs about his wife and children showing his love of them to be the natural extension of his love of God. His work helping Chinese orphans find a good home is well documented. He not only talks the talk but walks it out. He does not simply point his finger at others and preach, but sets an excellent example by raising three adopted daughters of his own.

He was instrumental in helping one of my friends adopt two Chinese orphans. He even autographed a guitar for my friend to auction off to raise money to help with the adoption expenses.

I have felt the pain of loss when it comes to my children. When my wife left, I lost much of the precious, fleeting time we are given with our children and I was relegated to being an every-other-weekend-dad. That was a bitter pill to swallow. I still feel the sting of it to this day when I stop and think about it. But, that can hardly compare with what our brother must be feeling right now.

I know all of the clichés: she is indeed in a better place, our children are indeed only entrusted to us for a short period of time, her family will indeed be reunited with her again one day, and God will indeed bring good out of what is by any measure tragic. And the truth is that she was blessed in her short life to know true love. She has moved from being orphaned to being in a loving home to now dwelling in the pure presence of Love.

All of those clichés and facts are absolutely true, yet we cannot escape the feeling of sadness in this tragedy.

This is one of those cases where you have to ask why such horrible things happen to such good people.

Slacking - Pictures

OK, OK ... I know I'm slacking. There is still no new blog, but I am still happy and completely enjoying this glorious spring. And, I have lots and lots of new pictures to prove it! These are mostly outdoorsy stuff from hiking, cycling and canoing around

Houma

Franklin

Covington

Ponchatoula

Grand Isle

Cameron and

The Barataria Preserve .

As always, you can view all of them here.

Todd

I Feel ... Happy ...

Something has happened that was totally unexpected. It has really thrown me off my game.

Usually I can't wait to write - to work out my angst and vent my frustrations and find some catharsis for my tortured artist soul. It is so easy to write about pain, whether physical or emotional, or write about the lessons learned in a major trial or set back. When my back, or sinuses, or stomach, or head, or joints (literally speaking) or heart (figuratively speaking) hurts, the words just come pouring out of my psyche and spill out onto the page.

Over the last few weeks I have come to face something that I simply did not see coming – the very thing that I hope for and believe for, surprises when it suddenly appears. I'm not sure what causes it. I don't know how it happens. I'm not sure how to react to it. But ...

I feel ... happy ...

The word has been unfamiliar. The concept seems foreign. Through all of my tribulations I have managed to keep my deep, abiding joy, peace, and contentment, but this ... this is different. I actually feel ... good – no major aches or pains – no major crises. I hesitate to give utterance to it for fear of 'jinxing' it. My body feels good enough that I have been able to get out and hike and jog and bicycle and paddle and generally frolic about in the gorgeous Spring weather. And of course, the very act of doing so does wonders for the emotions and state of mental health.

All in all, I am very much enjoying life – which is quite worrisome!

Why is it that I rejoice whole heartedly when others get to enter into a season of rest and enjoyment, and I feel like they deserve it? Yet when it finally happens to me, I feel unworthy and ill at ease. Obviously God still has some work to do. I am not quite a finished product yet.

Lord help me to accept the good or the bad that is thrown at me with equal zeal and good cheer. They will both come and they will both go. Each season brings with it it's own lessons, it's own pitfalls, and it's own treasures. Each is valuable and necessary. Each is to be embraced and lived to the fullest.

Choosing Solitude

I am no big fan of waking up before dawn (or for waking up before noon for that matter), but it can definitely have it's rewards. As my alarm clock's grating tone jolted me into consciousness my first thoughts were, well ... shall we say less than warm and cuddly. Soon though, after a splash of warm water on my face, the shock of waking at four am quickly gave way to the anticipation of seeing our solar system's stellar anchor makes his six twenty-four am curtain call.

It had been so long since I had been alone out in the woods or the swamp, that I had forgotten how good it feels and how much it can nourish the soul. The joy I felt as I pointed myself toward the trail and began to walk, soon made the shrill, early morning revely worth enduring.

Only a short time into my “walk-a-bout”, distant yet familiar feelings began to emerge. There is something primal about being alone with nature. Instincts surface. Senses sharpen. Suddenly I could see, hear, and smell again. It was as if a cloak had been lifted or pipe unclogged. Suddenly a lizard scurrying through the leaves sounded as loud as a passing car would sound back in “normal” life. The usually faint, if at all noticeable, smell of Cypress was overwhelming. I could hear four to six different kinds of bird songs at any one time. I could see the world around me teeming with multitudes of flying, crawling, hopping, scurrying, and slithering creatures.

Each of these was seemingly totally engulfed in it's own little universe, and as far as I know, failing to see the big picture that I was taking in – in much the same way that I am totally immersed in my own microcosm and do not see God's grand scheme. As I focused on one little critter, I found that I was drawn into it's tiny world – in much the same way that I suppose God chooses to focus in on each of us, and understands, and in some way becomes a part of, our little existence. How great a Creator that can see the grand scale, and the end from the beginning, and yet can, and indeed has, come down to our level to see things from our vantage point.

Hour after hour I silently hiked through the picturesque South Louisiana scenery with the thought of uttering a sound never entering my mind. Here, with no one to hear them, any words I would have spoken would have seemed oddly out of place and unnecessary. It would have seemed almost irreverent – as if I were breaking some unspoken vow of silence.

I know that I have mentioned before in my writing, how beneficial solitude can be. It truly can, when done correctly and properly appreciated, refresh and invigorate the soul. The solitude that I experienced this day was in no way related to the occasional loneliness that I have also complained of from time to time. Maybe the difference and the satisfaction is in the fact that I could easily have had company on this excursion. Indeed, the very next day I did choose to indulge in a little companionship for the day's adventure and enjoyed that as well. But this day, I consciously chose solitude.

Having the freedom to choose to be alone or to choose to invite others along is a good feeling. Having grown as a person enough to appreciate one as well as the other is also a good feeling. Having overcome both my one-time desire to become a hermit and my one-time need to have someone around, and finally finding a good, healthy balance, may be the best feeling of all.

Two Lists

At some point a few years back, while I was in the very darkest days of a cruel injustice, I sat dejectedly at a cement table while waiting for my oil change to be completed, and compiled a list. Actually I compiled two lists - one list of the things that had been taken from me and another list of the things that could never be taken from me.

Today those lists came to mind and set my brain to pondering a few things. We all too often abdicate personal responsibility for our emotions and our actions and say things like:

"She MADE me so mad that I hit her."

"He didn't MAKE me happy any more, so I found someone new."

"My children DRIVE ME nuts."

"Higher prices MAKE me worry about the future."

In the course of talking to people about their divorces, sometimes they tell me what they believe MADE their spouse stop loving them. In response I ask "Did you MAKE them love you? Are you capable of MAKING someone love you?" (pause for the usual answer of no) "Then why do you think that you can MAKE someone stop loving you?" Usually after a few twists and turns we get around to this basic premise: you can do nothing to MAKE someone love you nor to MAKE them stop loving you.

Now, certainly you can do things, or neglect to do things, and some of these actions, or inactions, may make you harder to love and may make the relationship difficult, but in the end the truth is this, people CHOOSE to love you, and unfortunately, sometimes they CHOOSE to stop loving you.

Similarly, when we encounter difficult circumstances we can choose our response. Why should we ever give another person or give circumstances the power to MAKE us feel a certain way. If what you say or do can MAKE me feel a certain way, then you have power over me. If nothing you say or do can affect me, if no matter how out of control you get, I can remain in control, then I have the power!

You cannot take away my joy or my peace, I have to give those up.

You CAN take from me:

my house
time with my children
lots of my money
sex
companionship
my "married person" status
my chance at a fiftieth anniversary

You CANNOT take from me:

my joy
my peace
my relationship with God
my good name
my real friends
my talents

Look carefully at those two lists. Which things are more important? Which are lasting, nay eternal? Are not houses, children and status temporary things any way?

I know I whine too much at times. I am only human and no where near perfect. But at times, when I am thinking clearly, in moments of lucidity, when God's wisdom breaks through all of the inane and unprofitable thoughts that swirl in my undisciplined mind, truth wins the day and I choose to be joyful and I choose to be at peace.

I'll See You In Heaven Larry

I didn't see it covered on CNN, and it went mostly unnoticed by the public at large, but a man I greatly respect as a person and as an artist passed away this week. Or rather, he passed on into the real life that awaits all of us who believe in Jesus as he did.

He was one of the first and most influential of the modern breed of Christian artists. Larry Norman spoke and wrote openly, sincerely and with gut wrenching honesty of both his faith and his personal struggles. Always thought of as too much of a rock-n-roller and "long haired hippie freak" by the Christian establishment, and too much of a "Jesus freak" for the music world at large, he none the less won a following among a substantial number of us. Although, with his musical talent and lyrical transparency, he deserved a much wider audience.

Whether writing about personal heart ache, as in "Pardon Me", or about politics, as in "Reader's Digest", or about his unabashed Christian beliefs in songs such as "I Am a Servant", "Why Don't You Look Into Jesus", or "I Wish We'd All Been Ready", he never failed to touch me deeply. He was a true artist who knew how to turn a phrase, and how to painstakingly craft and deftly produce a song.

His trilogy of albums "Only Visiting This Planet", "So Long Ago The Garden" and "In Another Land" were some of my very favorite albums in my formative years and contain songs that to this day are still some of my favorites. They also rank consistently high in "Best Christian Albums Ever" lists.

I will always regret that I did not get to see him in person in this life. I know that I will see him in the next life, the real life, along with Kieth Green, Gene Eugene, Mark Heard, Rich Mullins and other talented believers who passed on at much too young an age.

Age Old Questions

Did I lie to God? Did I lie to myself? Maybe I really believed the words I spoke. “God, if You could just let one little thing go right ...”

And, He did.

In the midst of all that has gone wrong in the last week or so, I can definitely see the little “God winks” here and there. He has tried to remind me that He is still here with me. And yet, if He is with me, why - why the constant barrage of bad news?

I don't mean to whine. I don't mean to rehash all of the same old things again and again ... but, why?

Why do I have to give money, month after month, year after year, to the very people who broke my heart and crushed my spirit?

Why, if I am His child, have I come to feel so cursed and to expect bad news?

Why must I wait year after year for so many years that I begin to lose hope of ever finding a soul mate?

Why must I deal with sinus problems and back problems and stomach problems and eye problems and ear problems?

Why must I feel like God is not prospering the work of my hands?

Please don't get me wrong, I do not feel that God owes me anything. I just look around and see the people that caused so much pain and I see them seeming to prosper, while I struggle. Here again, please don't get me wrong, I am not looking up and screaming “no fair God!” Although, at times I do question God, and ask Him if there is justice in this life or if it is strictly a matter of eternal justice at the end of all things. Not that I desire vengeance, it would just be comforting to know that there is order and to see justice done. It would prove my faith in a just universe created by a just God is, shall we say, justified .

But, let me broaden things out a bit. What of the grander scale?

How many loan sharks, adulterers, crooked politicians, petty tyrants, cruel dictators and assorted ner'-do-wells will sleep in actual, or at least relative, luxury tonight? How many good fathers, faithful wives, missionaries to forgotten countries, loyal employees, likable classmates, and genuinely nice people will be cheated on, divorced, senselessly killed, unfairly fired, falsely accused, and otherwise wronged?

The questions are age old – why do the wicked prosper and why do the righteous suffer?

I have heard some very good, logical, theological arguments that soundly rebut the “if there is a God why is there evil” argument. But, cold hard facts don't always satisfy when you are in the middle of a crisis or a good pity party. In the midst of one such occurrence this thought crossed my mind – how do the people that do these awful things sleep at night? Do they really enjoy their apparent prosperity? Do they have real peace and joy and contentment?

Perhaps real prosperity is laying your head on your pillow at night knowing that you have purposely harmed no man. Perhaps being in right relationship and fellowship with your God adds more than enough peace and joy and contentment to your life to make up for all of the things that you feel are lacking.

Perhaps anyone who can sleep well at night after purposely harming another is so shallow and brutish that they are incapable of appreciating actual beauty and goodness. Perhaps, when I am thinking clearly again, I will pity them.

one day i hope to find her

she speaks quietly and confidently
of things important and things trivial
things of God and things of earth

she walks forthrightly
knowing not the ways of falsehood
in her heart is found no deceit

she delights in understanding
wisdom is her companion
seeking truths when others only ask why

she is my equal
across the expanse exchanging knowing looks
communicating profundity with the meagerest of glances

she is enticing in form
not gaudy or demanding of attention
once focused upon, her intricate beauty slowly unveils itself

she is a lover
her passion glows white hot
denoting intensity and purity

one day i hope to find her
and to join, as two flames that meld into one

Did You Hear The One About ...

Those of you who don't know me may well question the veracity of the telling of this event. Those of you who do know me, upon some reflection, will say "yeah, that sounds about right". But by and large, people will either scramble for a good punch line or just go "huh?".

I was on the east side of town heading out towards Fourchon. The exact location is not really that important ... it was at the corner of Clendenning Road and East Main Street ... if you must know. Not that I didn't want you to know ... I just deemed it not that relevant to the point of my story.

Well, honestly there is no actual point to be made here. This is just a (hopefully) humorous story ... well, not so much a story as maybe an anecdote ... and probably not actually that humorous to anyone but myself ... I laughed out loud ... but, I am easily amused and easily distracted ... and I digress ...

The exact locale, date and time are not central to the recounting of the pointless, marginally funny, thing that happened a few days ago. I think it was Thursday, but it could have been Friday ... there again, not important to the "plot" here ... I could think about it more and maybe look it up if you must know the precise day and time ... but, in the midst of my digression ... I further digress ...

As is my custom, I pulled cautiously up to the intersection. Just as all vehicles came to a stop two chickens dashed across the road. They were both hens I believe, but as with the other details here, it just doesn't matter. If I were the sort of person to swear, I would here swear, hand uplifted, that my very first thought at that moment, in no way searching for a punch line, my sincere question (being as one side appeared as pleasant as the other, and seeing no advantage to this risky maneuver) was ... why did they do that? Why did those chickens cross the road?

Only later did the endless barrage of juvenile punch lines start to assail my mind.

So be sure and stay tuned in. If I am ever in a bar (unlikely) and a priest, a nun, and a Rabbi walk in (equally unlikely) ... I will post a blog immediately!