From the Monkey

Pass...

2008-06-15T21:49:00.000-07:00

I have had one of the best Father's Day celebrations I have ever had. Seventeen years into fatherhood, it seems to be easier to travel with my children. They are a delight, except when fighting with one another, to travel with, walk next to, experience life together. Our trip today to the beautiful King's Canyon National Park was awesome, not just because the scenery and weather were perfect, but because I enjoyed the company of my kids. Fatherhood never felt so good!

But there was another moment, later in the day, that not only took me back to pre-fatherhood days, but also made me hungry for adventure and vision for the future.

Pastor Dave and his son, James, joined us for dinner tonight. They are living the single life with Dave's wife, Christy, on a mission trip to Thailand for two weeks. After a terrific dinner we retired outside to the pool and began to talk about life experiences we had in the past.

I relived, in detail comic and otherwise, train travel across India, a semi-truck trip from Denver, Colorado to El Salvador, bus trips througout Europe and numerous other adventures. I mentioned to Dave my desire to drive the Khyber Pass between Afghanistan and Pakistan, for the sheer joy of adventure, to which he replied, I can go in August! I laughed, then wondered HOW I could make it a reality.

I sat for a long time outside by the pool, looking up into the night sky and I prayed. I prayed for a star, one star to follow. Bright, clear, OBVIOUS. I NEED obvious. A star that would lead me to new place, new people, new opportunity to share what I have been given. In short, I long to be back in the game of bringing the blessing of a relationship with Christ to those who may never hear that name.

Even now, as I write these words, I remember gazing into the night sky 22 years ago, from the roof of a building in Hyderabad, India, having similar thoughts, uttering in kind prayers. I am a father now, which has changed me in some ways, but in most other ways I am still the same person. I still crave adventure, long for purpose, desire to know my heavenly Father in a way that is unique to me...it's a great dream!

Happy Father's Day.

So you think...

2008-06-12T21:06:00.000-07:00

I really like dance. I like to watch it, I like to do it, even if my version of dance is, well, primative. So to say that I enjoy the current run of Reality shows highlighting dance is to state the obvious. What is not so clear is why, all of the sudden dance has become so hot.

For years PBS, the Public Television Network, featured ballroom dance competitions that went unnoticed, even by me. Then the American Idol phenom hit. It seemed America rediscovered the joy of "live" performances. No, Reality TV is not live in the sense of in person, but it does bring the excitement and uncertainty to a medium that had become too slick.

There is an old saying, "even the dullest, most boring real person is much more interesting than the most interesting fictional character, written in any novel."

Reality TV bears this out. A good reality series brings passion, deep emotion, fear, joy, success, failure and, at times, real romance. Add to all of that the opportunity to help decide the "fate" of your favorite singer, dancer, weight loser, via text, or call in voting and it's a recipe not only for success, but enjoyment. We live through these brave souls who risk failing in front of millions! What's not to love?

Back to dancing. I want to dance like they do. I should take lessons, right? Well, sure, but why should I? I can sit in my comfy blue chair, take it all in and, well, not break a sweat. I can experience it all, a gorgeous partner, the emotions, success failure, whatever...but it's all in my mind. Hmmmm, maybe I don't like the reality phenom after all. the only way to experience anything is to, well, experience it.

I need to get out on the floor, learn the steps, take a risk. Argh. It seems so easy. To watch or do, that is the question.

Which do you prefer? I'm undecided.

How about you?

Experimental...

2008-06-10T21:30:00.000-07:00

Lyrics. Descriptive words aligned with musical notes and rhythmic patterns. Kinda boring, huh? Unless they happen to strike deep in your soul, which is what happened to me just this afternoon.

On my way to lunch with a friend I heard this:

"Oh,what I would do to have
the kind of faith it takes
To climb out of this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves
To step out of my comfort zone
Into the realm of the unknown
Where Jesus is,
And he's holding out his hand"

"But the waves are calling out my name
and they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times
I've tried before and failed
The waves they keep on telling me
time and time again
"Boy, you'll never win,
you'll never win."

Who hasn't felt the "waves...laugh" at one time or another? We all have, but then, just as the water begins to swamp the boat, the song continues...

"But the voice of truth tells me a different story
the voice of truth says "do not be afraid!"
and the voice of truth says "this is for my glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth"

Those words, powerful enough on the written page, are doubly so while dancing in and out of notes, rhythms, sounds. It is the power of song.

Not only do I like to listen to great songs, one day I hope to write one. I am not talking about a hit song, which does not necessarily mean a song is "great." Therefore, I thought I would try an experiment...write a line and see if anyone out there would write another to go with it. Here's my line:

"I wrote this song to launch my dream
kissing the shore goodbye"

Happy writing!

Rainbow colored umbrella...

2008-06-05T19:49:00.001-07:00

Simple pleasures. The cool air hangs lightly above my pool and the lounge chair that I am sitting in, making it impossible for me to believe I am in Central California, in June. Just two weeks ago the mercury rose to over 100 degrees making lots of folks wonder if this Global Warming things was for real.

Fortunately, Global Warming is the last thing on my mind tonight. Beauty, silence, still water, lilies in full bloom, have all made me reflective. My day was stressful. Not busy stressful, but a little fearful stressful. Know what I mean? The future. It loomed ominously near today and I wondered what it would hold.

Would there be enough money to pay all the bills? Would my soon to be grown up children find a passion for life, in life, that would see them through the hard times? Would I be up to the challenges that would come from who knows where, or would I buckle under the weight of my own self doubt? These questions dogged my thoughts all the day long.

Then, just moments ago I walked out the sliding door and into a new world. The lilies didn't really seem concerned about my bills and the water didn't even stir when my self doubt reared its ugly head. The world, or at least my little piece of it, seemed assured that, come what may, tomorrow was of no concern, at least for this evening.

I studied the lilies. How can they be so vibrant, yet still, silent, content? My eyes toured the backyard further, finding only contentment in the Queen Palms, Sugar Pines,Potato Bush. "The know, really know," thought I, "that all is well with the world."

The worry weight slowly slid off my back. I leaned back in my chaise lounge and dozed, just a little. Convinced, content, at least for one glorious moment, that I was in the care of the Master Gardener...he would fail me not.

"...they neither toil, nor spin," that's what I needed to hear.

Asa...

2008-05-30T21:53:00.000-07:00

Life has been interesting these past few months. The economic engine that ran my business basically dried up. Nothing I did had any effect whatsoever on the income stream. The spigot was open, but no water flowed.

At first it was quite scary. I had employees counting on me to make payroll, bills to pay, obligations to be met. I had no idea what I was going to do. I cut expenses, let my employees go, quit paying myself and basically hunkered down to weather the storm.

But the inner storm was something completely different. I blamed myself for what seemed like failure. Everywhere I looked seemed to remind me that I hadn't quite made the mark. More than the money, that's what seemed most unjust. Yes, I said it, unjust. I had made an attempt to launch out in faith to start my business some years ago and, well, isn't God supposed to reward faith? Some reward. Fear. Failure. Uncertainty. It didn't seem like the story of triumph I had hoped for.

Recently, I told my friend Jon, "brother, I feel like I've been led into the desert. No matter where I turn there is no water to drink."

He reminded me that the great men of faith, at least recorded in the Bible endured such things and worse following the call of God. Hmmm, what was it about David, Moses, Joseph and Jesus, that sustained them through their desert experiences? It was a question that was worth pondering and as I did...

I found a favorite, long lost, Bible. It had been deposited in a box, put in storage and, in my mind now, was waiting for this moment. I brought the Bible home, sat down and flipped it open to the following passage, a passage I don't remember ever reading:

The LORD is with you when you are with him. If you seek him, he will be found
by you, but if you forsake him, he will forsake you. For a long time Israel was
without the true God, without a priest to teach and without the law. But in their
distress they turned to the LORD, the God of Israel, and sought him, and he was
found by them... God was troubling them with every kind of distress. But as for
you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded. (2 Chronicles
15:2-4, 6-7; NIV)

It was like the heavens opened up and encouragement poured out from the throne of God. God spoke, through His word, "be strong and do not give up, for YOUR WORK WILL BE REWARDED. Does that mean me, God? The skeptic immediately tried to shout down the beautiful, still voice of God, but I would not let it. I read it over and over and over. I meditated on it. Iswirled it around in my brain, like someone savoring a fine wine. It was amazing. Often, it seems, God chooses to speak encouragement before acting. He does not want us to give up, so just at the right time, the right place...He shows up, somewhere.

So if you are on the verge of giving up, don't. Listen instead for the voice that never gives up, the one who leads us in triumphant procession before our enemies.

Lewis...

2008-05-29T17:28:00.000-07:00

I'm kind of a softie! Yeah, I'm a guy, but I failed the "guy" test a long time ago. What test is that, you ask? What my Dad told me over and over again growing up..."men don't cry, so stop it!" Mind you, I don't go around sobbing, in public, but there are certain events, people, places, images, ideas, music, that, well, choke me up. Movies, especially those with romantic, patriotic, or heroic material (worse yet, all), almost always bring a tear, or a thousand to my eyes.

Of course, being as close to a "real man" as possible, I usually try to hide it, especially from my kids, but they're on to me. "Were you crying at the end of the movie, Daddy?" was the question my daughter asked years ago, about the end of the ANIMATED film, Tarzan! Brother, even cartoons make me cry. Jane's about to go back to England without Tarzan and, needless to say, I can HARDLY stand it! Squirming in my seat, tears running down my cheeks, and my then 8 year old TOTALLY on to me. Ha, ha, what a guy! And yet....

The beauty of love, unselfish, uncompromising, even in a cartoon ought to make everyone a little teary-eyed. Isn't that what we all long for? Jane pushes away from shore in a row boat bound for a tall-ship, leaving Tarzan behind. Oh, what pain! Halfway to the ship she reconsiders, her father, recognizing her heart, tells her to follow it. She DIVES into the surf in reckless abandonment, all for love of the big ape! (Smile). And cry we should. If we don't cry for that in our own lives we surely have lost hope.

And maybe that's exactly why, when I see a movie like Prince Caspian, I am on the verge any number of times throughout the movie. There is hope. Hope that Aslan will return, routing the enemies of Narnia, hope that Caspian is truly a good king, hope that...well, I won't give away any more, but I will say that the message of hope, of true, deep love, love that is not natural, but supernatural, exists HERE and NOW, not just in some movie. I long for that. Don't you?

That love can be seen in so many ways, but remains hidden unless we are looking for it. I hear it in soaring melodies, see it in a waving American flag on Independence Day, recognize it in any selfless act, long to see it in my own life toward another. Hmmmm, maybe, just maybe, the tears come as I struggle to want to be my best, plunging into the depths for love, both natural and supernatural. Yes, that's it, we all want to be (name your cartoon hero here), forsaking all to help another...selflessly, humbly, fully. Let the tears flow...

Surf's up! Enjoy!

The little things...

2008-05-22T17:46:00.001-07:00

It was one of those days. I knew it would be. For whatever reason I woke up a little off. It seemed like the tapes of all the mistakes I had made the past few years were stuck on "repeat," playing over and over in my head. I can't even say I really tried to fight against the reality series of my mind, I simply saw, with each mental close up every blemish on my life, real and imagined.

Problem was I had an event to run and I HAD to be positive. It was a student event that I have been part of for two years now and, well, students have enough trouble without sharing in mine. So, I put on my best, "Yes, I really am happy," face and decided to make the best of it. In I go and as I walked in the building a strange things happened: the tapes slowed down a bit. Then once I got into the program I even started forget that I was "going to be voted off!" (Smile) My shoulders dropped with the easing of tension, my internal conversation and negative self talk gave way to real life interactions that were positive. I didn't feel isolated, unloved, unreliable, un-smart (I know it's not a word, but bear with me here), unable. Suddenly I was part of something bigger than my last error in life.

Lots of time, in lots of ways, being around people can be a pain. Right? Let's get real here, folks. But all too often we forget how HEALING people can be as well, especially people who believe in us. Not a word was said about my inner issues to the folks I worked with for most of today, so they weren't trying to be nice, accepting, positive about me...that's the way they ARE!

But then, to top it all off, two words were spoken that made my day, maybe even my week. And it wasn't what was said, or even why it was said, but just the timing of those two words...barely a sentence. You see, I had to give a "commercial" about my business conference coming up in October. So, for the first time EVER, I, me myself and I-all-by-my-lonesome, created a DVD combining music, video, pictures and text, creating a fun little video as a way to invite these kids to join us for the conference in October.

But like all things new, well, I wasn't sure I had done a passable job. In a word, scary. So the DVD plays, I make my announcement, people applaud politely, which was nice, then...

A friend of mine who was in the audience and happens to be an expert at multi-media, walks over to me after I had gone to the back of the auditorium and said..."Nice media!" Giving me the two thumbs up sign in approval! REALLY?, thought I. Naw, he must've been talking to someone else! But, well, there was no one else, so, WOW, suddenly I was a changed man. Walking on air, couldn't remember I had a problem in the world. Two words. Problem solved. That's it. Such a small thing.

Isn't it the little things that so often help in big ways? The nod of affirmation, the glad-to-see-you tone of voice when greeted by an old friend, your dog wagging his/her tail in absolute ELATION that you are home. Little, but BIG. So the next time you see a friend, find two, three, or ten words that will set them free, give them wings, unloose the chains! I bet your day will be a little happier, too.

Final Frontier...

2008-05-20T22:22:00.000-07:00

It seemed like an excercise in futility, my point and click-ability was limited, not by intelligence, but experience. I had never used iMovie, the famously familiar software package found on all iMacs, intended for computer non-geek geeks like myself. But I felt I could do something to create even the most basic of movies about an event I have produced the last two years.

My business conference, Biz Talk, seemed, at least until tonight, to have run its course. I had grown weary of supporting it with my own money, borrowed money, to boot, so I fully intended to abandon the concept after this year. But tonight as I created a promo video for a student edition of the conference I was surprised by...

Memories. Events, people, moments, that had defined not just my life, but the lives of others, perhaps changing them forever. There he was, a 15 year old student from Visalia, in the right seat of a Citation jet, on approach to Mojave Airport. This student wanted nothing more than to meet our first keynote speaker in 2006, Burt Rutan, a pioneer in the space and aviation industries. No only did he get to meet him at the conference, but he got to fly in the private jet to take him back home to Mojave. What a thrill for this aspiring Aeronautical Engineer...life changing? Indeed.

Of course there were many other photos that evoked similar memories and then I felt the Lord spoke to me...

"A man's gift will make a place for him." As I drove away from the office tonight, I thought, I can't give up now, where will people find inspiration to go on, even when times are tough? I have to find a way to inspire, lift up, edify, strengthen other people for their life of adventure. Yes, that's it, Biz Talk is about something more than people in, people out, it's all about one person meeting another, finding a life defining moment, and flying into their destiny. It's my place, my space.

Flying lessons anyone?

Sweat shop...

2008-05-16T18:04:00.000-07:00

Fulfillment. To me there is no word quite like it. Two different forms of the same word, meaning to sate, or satisfy, the word itself implies a reasonable assurance that fulfillment is possible, even likely. In like manner, I cannot seem to rid myself of the quest for fulfillment, the state of being, not the word. Oddly enough and unlike most of my contemporaries, this is not something that started in my forties as some part of a mid-life crisis. I have always had a restlessness in my heart, which has led to people and places near and far, but not to, well, you get the idea.

So today, as I sweltered in the 100 plus degrees of the Central Valley of California, I wondered aloud and alone, why bother. For all my journeys, quests and missions fulfillment had proven allusory at best. The risks I have taken to get there have been large, personally, finanacially, and otherwise, but the rewards, such as they are, have been found less than, well, fulfilling. Oh, sure, sometimes you take a risk and meet a person who rocks your world for a lifetime, perhaps, or you become wealthy beyond belief. But in the end, at least for me, and at least in the area of doing things (work, hobbies, travel, etc.), I have found they all leave me thirsting for more.

Yet soldier on I do in part, I suspect because once the risk is undertaken there is no option but to go forward. As a popular song says, "no one has found the rewind button," so you pay for the opportunity in so, so many ways. And maybe that is the lesson learned as we go through life. Following your dreams will allow for no regrets in the end, there is no other way to look at it, but make no mistake, bills must be paid for the carrots we follow.

Now don't misunderstand me, this is not a boo-hoo session, just a reflection on why I seem to be continually in the hunt. What am I looking for, really, when I create a new business opportunity? Love, God, attention, heaven? Perhaps grace, peace, a laugh, joy, security? All those answers are both familiar and a little cold, too, except God and love. Love of the Earthly kind has that warm glow surrounding it, but it too, has proven illusory. So perhaps those are the two things that we ultimately look toward to fulfill our lives. To say that we find complete satisfaction in God is to deny our physical realities, as much as finding it in the love of another denies realities spiritual. And maybe that is the answer. What? You don't understand?

Perhaps fulfillment is not in any ONE thing, but in the sum of the whole. People, places, interesting work, love of all loves, faith, hope, a Savior, God the Father. I bet it all leads to fullfillment in the end, if we keep seeking, peeling the onion as we go, finding what is true, noble, real.

So I will continue to seek it, this crazy thing called fulfillment, but with an eye to the end, more than what it holds for me today. That when my final breath is drawn I will recall, remember, be filled.

Star struck...

2008-05-12T22:15:00.000-07:00

I was struck today by two things: the serenity of walking on a ranch WAY out in the country and the joy of driving on country roads. Of late business has taken me out on the backroads a bit and I love it. Then, when I actually got out of my truck to walk this one ranch, the quiet was so amazing. I could hear bees taking turns around citrus trees, birds flitting in and out of those same trees whenever I came near, and finally, my own thoughts as I walked that deserted pathway.

It made me reconsider if we, as a culture, have really improved our lives by filling them up with gadgets that prevent us from being alone...EVER! I won't go into a tizzy over technology, for those who know me know that I use cell phones and computers a lot. But I do want to retreat soon, somewhere out of cell phone range, out of voice mail capability, just so I can perhaps hear other, more important voices. The voice of God, mayhaps, and my own. Is it not hearing from heaven that we discover our one true voice?

Of mobile homes and roller rinks...

2008-05-11T20:03:00.000-07:00

Talking the other day with a friend the subject of recent tornados and their effects came up, for some weird reason. Weird, because in Central California we don't often experience the kind of weather I was used to in Colorado and Michigan. But it was also weird because of the content of the conversation, or should I say, the reporting of a "fact" from a report about a tornado in, hmmm, Illinois, I think.

Other: "Did you hear about the tornado that struck the midwest yesterday?"

Me: "Nothing new there," quoth I, "'tis the season for such crazyness!"

Other: "Not like what I'm about to tell you." She said with some emphasis.

Me: "Well?"

Other: "A tornado hit a roller skating rink, PICKED UP THE ROOF, dropped it right on top of a mobile home park!"

After a second of silence, I must admit I laughed OUT LOUD at the proposterous idea that a tornado would be capable of such malice. Not able to resist I said...

"Is it just me, or do tornadoes have it in for mobile home parks?"

The other person laughed, too, not at the terrible tragedy, but at the seeming truth in that statement. It seemed to us both that wherever a tornado touched down a mobile home park was destroyed. I went on to suggest that maybe small wind storms grew up in mobile home parks and were so traumatized by that fact that they made every effort to destory them whenever and wherever possible. Now if you happen to live in one and are now offended, let me just say I have every right to say this, since my Mom and I lived in a mobile home park for one year back in 1977. Back to the story...

After this exchange I got to thinking about what we consider fact: if someone says it's true, we believe it. So, in my search for the truth of this story I discovered that, yes, a tornado had indeed collapsed the roof of a skating rink, but no, it had not picked it up and dropped it on a mobile home park. No evil was intended by the tornado, or so it seems, but the reporting of the story made it seem so.

But how often do we believe that events beyond our control do, in fact, have some intent behind them. If something good happens, well, it's luck, God's blessing, whatever. Bad things, of course carry the opposite idea and something inherently evil behind them. But I have found that good always follows bad, maybe LONG afterwards, but at some point good comes out of bad. In a tragedy, like a tornado, people pull together, help one another, drop long established gaurds around homes and hearts and rebuild.

Humor, not unlike what I attempted in my conversation with Other, is also part of the process of moving out of tragedy. I would never make light of someone elses misfortune, but the circumstances can be so overwhelming that to always view it seriously could make us constantly depressed.

Finally, if every cloud has a silver lining, every silver lining has a cloud. That's just life. Life is filled with moments of joy, beauty, peace, but also rife with the opposite. Thankfully, most of the clouds we experience are not life threatening, but can loom ominously overhead making us fret over the outcome. I say, bring 'em on, a blue sky without clouds gets boring after weeks and weeks. Storm clouds signal adventure, or at least the promise of adventure that will blow away with the wind.

So the next time you decide to put on your roller blades, check the sky and whatever you do stay away from mobile home parks!

Beyond...

2008-05-09T20:04:00.000-07:00

So there I was surrounded by brand new, but empty houses. It was a little surreal in light of a market that, up until a year ago, was on fire with demand. Yet, there I was, attempting to put together a deal to buy a distressed housing development. There are dozens of such properties, but it seems that something in the heavens had put this particular opportunity in my lap. (See yesterday's blog).

But without hard work, opportunity tends to slip through our fingers. So work I did. Taking pictures, making lists, asking questions, sending emails, and, perhaps most important of all, praying. I have found, after years of trying, that sometimes our best efforts without the blessing of God yield little, or bad fruit. That old Bible verse, "unless the Lord builds the house they that labor, labor in vain," has been part of my experience, which is what you get when you stub your toe...experience. LOL! So this deal, as well as several others that I am currently shepherding through one sort of process or another, has been bathed in prayer.

A friend told me today that it seemed that I was living "beyond my circumstances." This struck me as very profound, but I couldn't figure out why. This puzzled me for several hours this afternoon until, EUREKA!, I got it! That is FAITH. Faith is "living beyond one's circumstances." What a simple, profound explanation of faith. By all measures, I have no business trying to buy, or own large parcels of property. My checkbook would reflect that. But if I am living a life of "beyond," then my checkbook is not the issue. Somewhere in the Bible it says, (God) owns the cattle on a thousand hills." Hmmm, or for modern sensibilities, perhaps, "God owns the oil in a thousand wells," would make more sense. Regardless, He has the resources, all I need do is uncover them. Uncovering takes digging, not unlike finding oil...anybody know where I can find a shovel?

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the assurance of things not yet seen." Heb 11:1 or: Faith is living beyond your circumstances, knowing that God has all you need even when you can't see it.

Bushes...

2008-05-07T20:49:00.000-07:00

I sat down in the red, black and green checkered chair without really thinking about what might come of the conversation. I was there to talk, let my mind wander, in a free-association sort of way, about life and the journey that I was taking on this big, ocean blue bus we call Earth. I was about to get so much more.

Today wasn't for walking around a property seven times, like a nomadic Judean, waiting for the fall of Jericho, that was SO yesterday! I was in a cool office, sitting in a comfortable chair, enjoying time with a friend. Early on in the conversation I was listening to my friend talk about a friend of his who, hmmm, maybe had this piece of property that would fit for my current business plan. Wide-eyed, I confessed that the last person I would have expected to have a referral from was the guy sitting across the room talking with me. I rarely talk specific business issues with him, or business at all, but here we were, zeroing in on a prime opportunity for my new found emphasis on asset acquisition.

(Now talking about "asset acquisition" is death to a blogger. Nothing sexy about that. Indeed, that's probably why it makes good business sense. But back to my story.)

I am always looking for doors opening, doors closing. I believe in, well, the supernatural. You know that by now, but what you don't know is the extent to which I believe that God, via the Holy Spirit is always trying to communicate to us/me. I believe it wholly. Not that I always live like I do, but in my heart that's where I stand. I want to be like Abrahm...

God: "Abrahm, go into a land I will show you."

Abrahm: "Yes Lord." He gets up, pulls up his tent stakes and sets out to WHO-KNOW-WHERE? Abrahm truly believed.

God calls Abrahm out...WAY out. Abrahm follows. God honors his faith by leading him to his new home. Now if I really, I mean REALLY believe all of this stuff then I too, want to go when called. So when my friend told me about this guy he was talking to just one day ago, well, I couldn't resist. I had to find out. I was looking for God in my desert. He's there. I think I can help someone who needs help. Can't wait.

Just as an aside to all this, I went and saw the property...amazing. Fits my specifications to a tee.

"Harlan, go into a land I will show you."

Stake dinner anyone?

Grit...

2008-05-06T19:52:00.000-07:00

The last time around was the most arduous. Sweat poured off my forehead, little bits of dirt gathered in my mouth and bugs, too numerous to name, dive-bombed me on their way to a succulent flower feast in the distance. I had persisted in my quest of walking this parcel of land just south of Visalia not unlike Don Quixote, tilting at my own windmills as if they were armored foes to be vanquished. But the end would be very different from the beginning.

I had intended, today, literally this day, to pray at lunch, not eat. It was part of a missions fund raising event initiated by my youngest daughter who is collecting money for AIDS afflicted people in Africa. Great mission, one hungry guy, still I persisted. I had arrived at this particular plot of land, a piece that I wanted to some day own, simply to pray, asking God to one day allow me to own it. Not your standard residential lot, this is actually a full development in waiting, much like me...a development in waiting! So, being a walker, I decided to walk the periphery one time and pray over it. Sounds weird, I know, but it's my kind of weird, so I did it.

And walk I did. An unease set in as I started to "educate" heaven to my desire. A certain idea came to mind, my heart, my spirit..."walk around the property seven times" like the Children of Israel around Jericho. Aha, then it will "fall" to me and I will possess the land, thought I. He, he, he. But then...

I remembered my daughters mission, "skip a lunch, save a life," and I realized there were more important issues at stake, literally life changing opportunities.

Walking around this parcel of land is, well, not easy. Well over 100 acres, nothing but weeds and jack rabbits, this is not the most hospitable place to be at noon in the Central Valley of California. Indeed, 'twas 90 degrees by the time I started my journey. Each lap, at a good clip, took me 12-15 minutes. The longer I walked the longer it took. But I digress.

Within a few steps of my first lap the Lord impressed upon my heart to pray for one person on each lap, for the entire lap. I started with my youngest, the fund raiser, asking God to bless her efforts and desire to help people half a world away. Then a plan opened before me...on each lap I would pray earnestly for a different, yet significant person in my life. Simple, straightforward, and then, last lap, I could pray for the one thing I wanted to pray for, that the land would one day be mine.

The first two laps were quick, fun, filled with passionate prayer for the recipient. The third was good, too, but my gait slowed a bit, my mouth began to dry and I wondered why I volunteered for this in the first place. I had no water with me, but, aha, I remembered I had coffee in the truck. Cold coffee, which was fine, or wait, would it be cold? It was in my insulated Starbucks cup, so, well, no, probably warm even though hours old. Still, I drank it. Warm, but wet, the end of the third lap brought minor relief.

Lap. Pray. Lap. Pray. Lap. Pray.

Finally, the seventh lap. I started praying. Change. I couldn't pray the prayer I came to pray. I couldn't bring myself to ask for the land to become mine. Not that that would be wrong it just seemed, well, not quite right. There were so many other needs, so many people who needed so much more, so many ways that my needs had been met, while the needs of others had gone unmet.

Sweating, crunching grit between my pearly whites, sun burned, aching, thirsty, feet hurting from two hours of walking, I prayed down the home stretch. I prayed more and more. Not my will, Lord...

Whew, I need water, cold water.

It's been a while...

2008-05-04T20:50:00.000-07:00

Me: Hello, old friend! It's been so long since we've seen each other. How've you been?

You: Great! You?

Me: Depends.

You: On what?

Me: The day.

You: Why did you wait so long to write?

Me: it wasn't anything on purpose, really, just got distracted.

You: Distraction can be a good thing, I guess, unless it leads you away from things that really matter.

Me: Like?

You: Me. An OLD friend.

Me: Wait a minute, you don't really want me to think of you as a REALLY OLD friend, do you?

You: I did not say, REALLY OLD, anyway. And, no, not in the sense of BEING old, but more in the sense of being comfortable.

Me: Yeah, the old shoe idea, right? That's not a new idea, you know. (Smug look on my face!)

You: Ah, and why, Mr. IMSOSMART, do you think that concept has endured?

Me: Hmmm, um, ah, well, I suppose because it's true.

You: Ah, ha, gotcha! Which means...?

Me: Now who's Ms. IMSOSMART? Ok, ok, ok, help me out here, I'm not sure where you're going.

You: Like a Stradivarius violin, the best things thrive over time...

Me: I still get distracted.

You: I know. Me, too.

Me: Wanna see a movie?

You: Sure. Which one?

Me: Ironman.

You: Right on.

Ups...

2008-03-15T20:14:00.000-07:00

We have a dog, a tiny little dachshund. Her name is Molly and you wouldn't guess that she is quite a tiger if harassed. Our other pup, Maggie, has certainly found this out, especially when food is involved. Molly growls like a ravenous wolf anytime Maggie even gets close to her bowl. Not true the other way around, however, as Molly constantly eats from Maggie's bowl. But one other little thing about Molly that is driving me mad right now is her digging.

Did you know that dachshunds were bred to go into holes and kill a variety of vermin, from rats to badgers? Neither did I until my wanna-be vet daughter informed me of this very fact, which explains what I saw in my backyard this morning. There I am, innocently preparing to mow the grass when what should I spy? A hole, a HUGE hole over by the pool filter. I know the hole has been excavated by Molly because she has very long claws and, well, the marks in the dirt perfectly match those claws. But how did she get out of this hole? It is twice as deep as she is long (no, I am not kidding) and seemingly insurmountable to someone without an opposable thumb.

Regardless, got out she did, and I was left with the aftermath. Fill the hole back in, make it look nice around the hole. Several hours later I go back out to change the timer on the pool filter (daylight savings time was last week, was it not?) and voilå, ANOTHER hole, same place, a little BIGGER! Argh.

Moral of this lesson? Mighty things often come in small packages!

Bumps...

2008-03-09T17:34:00.000-07:00

"The king is dead, long live the king," is an old, odd saying that I have never quite understood, but chuckled over in the past whenever it came to mind. It comes to mind now because of the circumstances in which I find myself.

What's Up, the magazine of my imagination that became a short lived reality, is now dead. It was a brief, but wonderful ride, helping me to realize that all things are possible, they just aren't always profitable. And that was the case with WU. Blame me, blame the economy (a wonderful scapegoat, by the way), blame whomever you like, or I like, it just was not meant to be. So, "the king is dead." Yes, the little king that seemed like such a good idea has now passed into the "wow, that was fun, wish I hadn't done it" category of all failed ideas...and yet, much was learned through the process. I am a better person for having done it and now I know one more thing that won't work, at least for me.

Ideas can come at an amazing rate, filling my brain with possibilities, at least in theory, and thus begins my lesson. Can't do everything. I've tried. Learn, if you will, from my experience. It has been a longstanding issue with me...my eyes are bigger than my stomach, my reach exceeds my grasp. Do one thing, do it better than anyone else, is the oft cited wisdom of the ages. Argh. That's hard for me. Lesson learned, I hope - "long live the king!" That lesson is now burned onto my psyche and I have opted to do one thing, at least for the next three years. I know, I know, it will be hard, but that's how we learn, by taking the hard lessons and applying them to our life.

So, I will be focusing solely on one major project that has been a mainstay for me for the past two years and I will take the lessons learned this year into my future, allowing the "king" to live long after his demise. To quote Mark Twain on reports that he had expired, "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." My magazine may have passed into the good, but failed idea category, but I live on, fighting until I can no longer raise even my voice to make the world a better place in which to reside.

Passages...

2008-02-24T21:55:00.000-08:00

A friend came over this afternoon for a quick bite to eat and an extended conversation. At one point she pulled out a bottle of perfume, not sure of the brand even now, but that was not the point. Her son had somehow had imprinted a photograph of his mom on this very nice bottle of perfume. The photo portrayed a beautiful young woman with a mischievious smile and gorgeous eyes. The picture was also at least 50 years old, if not more, which led us into a discussion about the fleeting nature of time and the lives riding it's wave.

Then I see Harrison Ford, of Indiana Jones fame, on a post Academy Award show hosted by Barbara Walters. He looks like he is, 20 years older than his last Indiana Jones movie and showing it. But aren't we all showing it? Now matter our age, 20 years changes us, it has me and I am sure it has you as well. But what does it mean?

I said it the other day, hold on to moments, important moments with those you love and care for. Relish each new day as if it will all fade into our distant memory, because it will. Rejoice in the little things. The love of children, dogs, wives, husbands, moms dads, sisters, brothers, can evaporate in the blink of an eye, so don't take them for granted.

I have missed so much lately because of worry over people, places, and situations that, in the long run, won't really mean anything in 20 years. So I am going to be more devoted to paying attention to those things that are really important...keep me honest in this, please, because I can get distracted just as easily as anyone else.

OK, time to get back to my kids...

Friends...

2008-02-23T13:21:00.000-08:00

I just have a moment, but I wanted to reflect today on people. Specifically, people who come into our lives and leave deep impressions on our souls. One such person has been on my mind today, especially as I gazed to the east at the snow ladened, majestic Sierra Nevada Mountains. It occured to me that true friendship, like the mountains last forever. Yes, I said forever, because I believe in the hereafter, eternity, whatever. I believe my deepest friendships will outlast this life. At least I hope so. I hope so because, with time, distance, or just a change in priority, we often lose the color of our true, soul connected pals. One day I hope that color can be rediscovered! Why?

There are many reasons why we connect with certain people more than others, but the reasons are irrelevant. Fact is, when we can share out true selves with another sojourner, it is cause for rejoicing. Mourning and grief follow the end of a relationship of depth and imtimacy, and may, perhaps, open the door to new friendships, but it is still difficult. Yes, today, as snow flies to the mountains in the east, it has brought back thoughts, prayers, times together, weathering the storms of life, enjoying the sunny days, or just sharing the everyday tedium of living with a great friend!

So, if you have a close friend, brother, sister, husband, wife, etc., draw near today, gaze out at the world and rest in their presence today. Tomorrow a new wind may blow them, or you in a different direction, leaving you wondering why you didn't enjoy those moments more.

Found these lyrics online to a song I've never heard, but, well, you'll see...

So no one told you life was going to be this way.
Your job's a joke, you're broke, you're love life's DOA.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.

But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

You're still in bed at ten, the work began at eight.
You've burned your breakfast, so far, things are going great.
Your mother warned you there'd be days like these,
But she didn't tell you when the world has brought you down to your knees.

That, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

No one could ever know me, no one could ever see me.
Seems like you're the only one who knows what it's like to be me.
Someone to face the day with, make it through all the rest with,
Someone I'll always laugh with, even at my worst, I'm best with you.

It's like you're always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.

But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

Persistence...

2008-02-21T19:33:00.000-08:00

I have been praying more than usual lately, a product I think, of the stress in my life right now. But if nothing else comes of it, I have slowly sensed a return of my faith. Yes, it is partly due to seeing results from my prayers, but truly that is not the point. Answered prayer can be hard to find, or at least hard to see because we have such preconceived notions of what those answers might hold. Interestingly, Jesus implied that our prayers would be answered if we prayed like a pest. Yes, I said pest, a gnat is what comes to my mind. Have you ever had a gnat buzz around your head late at night after you have gone to bed? You pay attention because you can do nothing less. The gnat persistently flies around, unaware that you want to go to sleep. Maybe that is what prayer is...pestering God about something that is important to you.

Are we mere gnats to God? No, I think not, but the woman who came to the unjust judge in the story told by Jesus acted like one. And Jesus said that this is how we should pray, in part, I think, because he knew our lives depended on God's help. But we don't pray this way usually, at least not until our life depends on it. We lope along, saying weak prayers until our lives, homes, businesses, whatever are in peril. Even then we may fail to realize the importance of prayer, maybe the result of longstanding guilt for not having prayed harder earlier.

Today, I for one am going to pester God like a gnat, albeit a loving one, to answer prayers that should have been uttered months ago.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Corner...

2008-02-21T07:28:00.001-08:00

You never know what will happen in any given day. Circumstances, like the weather, change rapidly. I was reminded of this yesterday as I drove off to get my haircut. I dialed my phone as I got in the car to talk with a business associate with whom I hadn't spoken for a while. This person and I have in common a business where we compete with one another ... but we're still friends! I was asking her for help on a particular situation, but what came after my request was the biggest surprise.

She suggested that we should consider an alliance between our two companies, which, in light of the economy was a welcome thought. So welcome it was, that I immediately jumped at the idea and agreed, at her suggestion, to meet for lunch tomorrow, Friday. If it works out, an alliance between our two companies would be very powerful and potentially helpful to righting my ship. Mind you, it is just talk at this point, but hope suddenly appeared on the horizon, like rain clouds rumbling across the plains to water the arid, desert sands. Unexpected, but no less welcome, no matter the outcome.

I think this is both cause for rejoicing, but also reason to always look to today and, less so, tomorrow. No matter how bad it all gets circumstances will change. The storm will pass and sunlight will return. It may take many long, cold, stormy days, but change will occur. Never, ever, quit. You never know what is just ahead, just around the corner.

I'll let you know on Friday how it all turns out.

Lasso...

2008-02-20T05:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was the recipient of an encouraging word from someone who has read this blog. I was taken aback a bit because, well, that's not important, but it did bring a much needed boost to my battered soul. You see, I am in the midst of a difficult time in my business and in my life. The economy is tough right now and we have suffered because of that and some choices on my side. So it has left me depairing at times, not knowing what the outcome will be. I could easily lose everything. I am fighting on, but often with only the faintest of efforts. That's wimpy, I realize, but it's the truth.

So yesterday I was driving my truck east on Goshen Avenue feeling slightly sorry for myself when I thought about George Bailey. George Bailey, the storied do-gooder of "It's A Wonderful Life," as played by Jimmy Stewart. Many things about the movie do not apply, so let's not take the analogy too far, but suffice it to say he had spent a lifetime helping people only to be crushed by circumstances and other people. So he tries to take his life (No, I am not suicidal) but is saved by an angel in training, Clarence, a rather funny character in the movie.

So as I am driving down Goshen Road late yesterday afternoon, George Bailey comes to mind. There are similarities: I've have tried to help people, our community, etc., often to the detriment of my business. Somehow believing that if you help people, well, it will return to you. And it often has returned to me in a variety of ways, but when you're down, inconsolable, whatever, it is difficult to see these things, much like George.

Unlike George and without an angel to guide me, I went on a mind's-eye journey of all the ways the last four years have been helpful to specific people, our community, etc. It was great! I relived, in my heart, the great moments of doing things, great and small that were important, meaningful, happy. It brought a smile to my face in a split second of thought, I went from despairing, to rejoicing. I thought about how life would have been different without Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, Godspell, Forever Plaid, Nunsense and other costly productions. I saw the faces, heard the voices, felt the happiness from cast and audiences alike. It relieved my stress...at least for that moment.

I also saw the pre-disaster George, optimistic, happy, on his first date with Mary, his soon to be wife, saying, "What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary." That is the voice and attitude of entrepreneurs all over the world...that is me. But we give the moon to the cities, towns, and people right where we live. And sometimes, often, really, we fail, because we are unprepared for a world that is not interested in lassoed moons, only ideas, products and services that make a lot of money.

Yesterday I was struggling with all of this and an angel, in the form of a film and a memory, came to rescue me...

Clarence said it best to all: "You've been given a great gift, George: A chance to see what the world would be like without you."

The world would be a much poorer place without you, me, even when we fail!

Know where a guy can get a moon?

Weather...

2008-02-10T18:58:00.000-08:00

Yes, I too have been under the weather since late last week. It has sapped my energy and creativity. So, alas dear reader, it will be yet a few more hours, long though they may be, ere I can write my massive missive to you. AaaaaaahhhhhCHOOOOOOOOO!

Good night!

Wild...

2008-02-06T21:06:00.000-08:00

Whew! The past few days have been crazy. Yesterday I was in LA all day meeting with a variety of amazing people in the entertainment industry that, up until last week, I thought I would never have contact with. Not one to drop names, I will only say that since my business is entertainment I need to know people who are either famous, or have access to famous people. Let me reiterate, it is only important to me because I promote shows, create new production, etc., that it is relevant. Besides...

I am not a fan. By that I mean any one person who is famous as a singer, actor, whatever, really holds no greater interest for me than the average guy, or gal on the street, because after all, we are all the same. What I do go GAGA over, however, is anyone committed to their craft and passionate about what they do ... plumber or rock star can be equally interesting if they love what they do.

My day yesterday was filled with people dedicated to the craft of bringing great entertainment to the world. A recording engineer and producer, a ten time Grammy award winner, an Emmy award winning TV producer and a writer for a global Latino magazine were all on my calendar yesterday. They were not there because of me, but because of amazing people that know me AND the persons I met in my journey yesterday. Why, if I am not a name dropper, am I mentioning it to you?

My business is at a critical stage, in which the next thirty days, sixty days, six months, could mean either breakthrough success, or shuttering the enterprise. It has been a difficult and emotional journey, made the more so because I am passionate about what I do, loving every minute of it ... well, almost.

The pressure is enormous out our stage. Payroll, bills, deadlines, loans, sales, meetings, taxes, argh, it's enough to drive you crazy. (Oh yeah, I am already crazy, forgot!) But the resources have been running low recently and that is especially distressing for a guy like me. So fear sets in, doubt, darkness, sometimes. It can be a roller coaster ride, sometimes fun, thrilling, often just plain old heart-thumping scary. But there are opportunities. And as I met with new people yesterday all I could see was blue sky, hope and ...

God. He was there. Showing me, leading me, using people I have NEVER met to speak His love for me in ways I could have never imagined just 2 days ago. Why did I have to go to LA to hear those "words" of love? Maybe the familiar blinds us to the novel, the banal to the divine. Getting away from the constant pull of daily obligations and responsibilities proved to be just what the Great Physician ordered!

Be still and know that I am God. Indeed.

93...

2008-02-04T19:50:00.000-08:00

Of late I have been thinking how difficult it is to control my "inner man," his thoughts, emotions, fear, torments. But I have been unable to fully understand, or even describe, what is happening in these dark moments of self doubt and tribulation. Well, until yesterday, that is.

I heard a sermon by Robert Schuller on his "Hour of Power" broadcast and a story he told made it all come together. He was talking about not losing faith in the midst of the storms of life and how, when we do, it's like this story from a Victor Hugo novel. Indulge me for a moment by reading this translation I got from the internet...

"... Boisberthelot did not have time to reply. La Vieuville's words were suddenly cut short by a desperate cry, and at the same time the two men heard a noise unlike any noise that is normally heard. The cry and the noise came from inside the ship. The captain and the lieutenant rushed toward the between-decks, but were unable to go down. All the gunners were frantically coming up. A frightful thing had just happened. One of the carronades of the battery, a twenty-four-pounder, had broken loose. This is perhaps the most frightful of all accidents at sea. Nothing more terrible can happen to a warship on the open sea and under full sail. A cannon that breaks its moorings suddenly becomes a kind of supernatural beast. It is a machine which transforms itself into a monster. That mass speeds on its wheels, tilts when the ship rolls, plunges when it pitches, goes, comes, stops, seems to meditate, resumes its swift movement, goes from one end of the ship to the other with the speed of an arrow, spins around, slips to one side, dashes away, rears up, spins around, slips to one side, dashes away, rears up, collides smashes, kills, exterminates. It is a battering-ram which attacks a wall according to its own whim."

I have been in an awful storm of late. My ship has been reeling, pitching to and fro, shuddering with each wave of disappointment. Mostly, the ship has remained secure, able to withstand the gale force winds that pitch it from without. But then a noise, something from within shook my confidence. Problem is that the more the ship rolled in the seas, the more intense the crashing of the cannonade below. So, as I read Pastor Schuller's sermon this morning it resounded deep inside as one analogy to the crashing of my emotions inside.

But analogies will do no good unless they are backed by something real, tangible, something able to calm the seas outside and in and put the cannon at rest. And while I acknowledge the enormity of that task, the question begs an answer ... do I believe God is able, or not? I used to believe He was able to do anything, but now, at least as the cannon runs its course, I'm not so sure.

It's not that I don't think HE is able, I guess I'm not sure I am. Because one way or another, stopping the cannon requires action on my part and I'm just not that brave. Or am I?

Yesterday I talked about being undaunted, literally not growing "discouraged by difficulty, danger, or disappointment." WOW. It sure hit me today as if to say, "OK, pal, prove that you're undaunted." Wham. Slam. Bam.

But Schuller said something else ... 46:10 - "Be still and know that I am God." That's from Psalms. Be still. Hmmm, it appears that calm seas, at least in my case, need something from me. To be still. Inside. Know that HE is God. I'll try. Undaunted. LOL!

Underdog...

2008-02-03T19:38:00.000-08:00

It's true, I sat down for four hours today and watched the Super Bowl. For those of you who do not know me, well, this is a BIG deal. It's not that I dislike sports, because I don't. In fact, when I was a little boy I was a HUGE footbal fan. Not only did I watch the games, but I played the game incessantly, imagining I was some famous player like Bart Starr, or Dick Butkus. Surely you remember those guys? They were amazing! And in my mind I would also, following in their football footsteps, one day be amazing.

But I guess other plans were afoot in the Universe for HH. My path took a radical left turn at age twelve when I discovered a rather large and now, lifelong, ummm, friend. No, not the flesh and blood type of friend, but one made of wood, covered in varnish, tightly wound. I started playing the string bass. No, it's not some mutant form of fish, it's the "bass fiddle," upright bass, whatever you want to call it. And it really isn't my friend, but it has been with me ever since, reminding me of the joy of playing music, while at the same time frustrating me with musical challenges I can't seem to overcome. OK, on with it, Harlan.

Watching the game today I was reminded of those days many years ago when I, like most other boys my age wanted to be a warrior in the NFL. I cannot be certain of why it was so attractive to me then, but I can say that I now see that everyone wants to be something like a hero. Catch the winning pass, hit the World Series winning home run, that kind of thing. Don't we all want that, or something like it? I think so.

So today as the NY Giants cut short the New England Patriot's dream of a perfect season, my emotions at seeing them win surprised even me. They had been counted out of the running, losing the first two games of the season but surprising everyone to win the NFC Championship game.

I love the underdog. At the beginning of the game, three of four TV commentators declared that New England would win today. But it was time for a hero and we were not disappointed. There were many, I guess, but I think the real hero, in this instance and in life, is not a person doing a given deed at a given time, but it is summed up in a comment by one of the TV wags when he said, "the New England Patriot's came in undefeated, but the NY Giants were undaunted."

That's it, thought I, heroism isn't about a game, or winning, or even risking your life for someone else. No, it's about being undaunted when all seems lost. My online dictionary says this about "undaunted" ...

"Not intimidated, or discouraged by difficulty, danger, or disappointment."

Hmmm, yeah, that's it. The real hero when times are tough is a little known attribute that tells us to stick it out even though we have little hope of winning, or, in the worst case, making it out alive. Best of all, ANYBODY can be undaunted ... we just need a good reason! Often we are told in subtle and not so subtle ways that we are losers, or at least, not winners. But that may actually be to our advantage, if we use it so. The Patriot's were the favorites to win that game. What about you? Have you been counted out of the game? If so, rejoice ... it's not so bad to be the underdog, just ask Tom Coughlin and the New York Giants.

I wonder if this is what Jesus meant when he said, "blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth."

Go underdogs!

FWCP...

2008-01-31T08:40:00.000-08:00

Good morning all! Normally, if there is such a thing for me, I write my blogs in the evening between 8 PM and 9 PM. Last night, however, I had a rehearsal until 10 and, well, I just didn't have anything to say.

But the passing of time changes everything and my blog is no different. As I lay awake again at 3:37 this morning the wheels were turning backwards, not forward as one would hope. Stress was up, hope was low. Why? Well, life has been difficult of late. Business is, hmmm, an adventure at best, because of a lackluster economy and fear in the marketplace. The first expenses to be cut are advertising, one source of revenue for us, and spending on event ticketing. Add to that one or two other personal issues and it is a recipe for late night sleeplessness.

So there I am at 3:37 awake. But not simply awake, wired with worry and anxiety. I can't stop my brain from imagining the worst possible outcome for me financially, which is one of my great struggles. So I wrestle, fret, pray. Anxiety remains. I let the dog out, walk around, pray ... still no relief. One hour later, as I stare at the ceiling, I begin to think about the word faith. Then I tell myself, or God, or the dog, or someone, I simply need more faith. But to what end? It comes to me...

Faith to believe. Believe in what, you ask? That God knows my situation. That He cares deeply for me and my family. That there is a greater purpose being worked out in my life THROUGH these difficult times. Faith to believe that the darkness will end and light will shine forth.

But I still feel afraid. Courage, comes the answer from deep outside. I need courage. I begin to ask for courage. Courage to keep fighting, to not give in, give up, die. Courage to face the issues head on. To act decisively, to fight against the paralysis that often comes with fear.

But then it dawns on me that courage without, hmmm, wisdom can be disasterous. I pray for wisdom. Then I say to myself and to the UNSEEEN presence now in my living room, give me wisdom after you have given me faith, because only then will courage be an asset. And so it goes. I sense movement in my soul, the fleeing of fear in the face of faith, wisdom and courage.

Finally, I ask for provision. By now, however, provision seems the least necessary of all the things I have prayed for. I now see that Faith, Wisdom, and Courage are the essentials needed for getting through the darkness and FINDING provisions.

I get up, walk to my bedroom, 4:50 AM. I fall asleep telling myself to remember FWCP for the morning!

Eyes...

2008-01-29T18:55:00.001-08:00

I had coffee this morning with my staff, all two of them, at Tazarria, a local café serving perhaps the best cappuchino in California. After I ordered I greeted an acquaintance who is normally in the company of his wife, but was today seated alone. I asked him her whereabouts since it was so unusual to see them apart.

"She is in surgery at this very minute," he explained.

"Nothing serious, I hope," said I, looking for telltale signs of distress on his face.

He looked up from his coffee and replied matter-of-factly, "no just corrective surgery, nothing really."

I muttered something about how surgery, even in the best of circumstances, is still serious and, well, he agreed to that and started to turn back to his paper. But I couldn't let it go. I am strange in that way. When I meet someone, anyone who has a loved one going through a procedure, or ailment, I feel a sense of empathy, compassion, whatever (this is a God thing since I am not naturally compassionate!). So I pressed him.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Yes, just waiting," was his come back.

He thought the matter was over, but I couldn't let it rest. Not that I was badgering him, but I felt impressed, led, something, to pray for him. Now, I know what you are thinking, but it isn't like that at all. I have no interest in saying pious words that only make me feel better about myself. That is nonsense. I am even reticent to write this in my blog, lest I become prideful about something that is ultimately humbling. However, there IS power in gentle acknowledgement of the obvious ... life is often out of our control and we need help! Ironically, though, it is usually in those moments that we are least able, or likely to seek it out for ourselves.

But back to my friend. After we finished saying a quick, quiet, sincere prayer for his wife, the doctors, etc., he whispered "thank you," and we said our fare-thee-wells! Walls went back up, I suppose, safe once again behind our faces. But change was evident as I walked away, not just in him, but in me as well. Humanity reached for eternity as we had quietly stormed heaven for the sake of another.

I have no idea what has happened since our conversation this morning, but I believe, no matter the outcome, that God has been present throughout this day, leading, guiding, helping them through the recovery of her health. No, I don't know this for certain, but man, I sure want it to be true ... don't you?

Swirl...

2008-01-27T19:41:00.000-08:00

I was surprised today by an event so unusual here that it took my breath away. In the early afternoon, all of the sudden really, a devastating wind blew up from the west and wreaked havoc throughout our area. Trees were toppled, trash cans knocked over, debris spread far and wide, while rain barreled down our streets in gigantic waves! It was awesome. I stood in my garage, mouth agape, for 15 minutes as this display of God's power roared. Then, as soon as it had arrived, it vanished leaving branches and bent stop signs as the only evidence that anything had happened.

Life is like that so often. Storms come quickly, often with devastating effect, leaving only scars behind to prove life happened at all. But what of the in between times? There are clearly times when storms are not blasting through my mind and emotions, but I rarely take stock of the good times. Why is that? As usual I have a theory...I call it the "Headline" theory.

In the business of reporting and making money from news, think CNN, or any newspaper, good news rarely sells. In our media saturated culture we live and breathe by media alerts about everything from stock quotes to weather reports. And because there are so many news options, well, the one with the most interesting, or sensational story is going to get eye balls on their story, selling more papers, ads, whatever. And why do we demand so much information? Ah, herein lies the rub...distraction.

I think we like to keep our minds on something, ANYTHING other than our deepest needs, fears, longings, struggles and yes, even what would bring us joy. I don't want to think too long about what I am missing in my life, or how empty I feel, or whatever. And I think this is very common. Silence is almost non-existent in our culture because we are afraid of what lies there.

For me, and I know I don't speak for you, but if I sit still and alone for too long I get a little fidgety. Gotta do something, sweep my garage (I know, kind of mundane but I actually like a neat garage!), play guitar, write my blog, or go for a long walk. But occasionally I am surprised a silent retreat.

Late at night as I lay on my back preparing for sleep I often pray, but I don't often listen. I mull over a scripture, perhaps, or pray for a specific person that needs help, but rarely do I stay silent. The wheels still turn normally at first, slowing with each passing moment, but they still turn. Swirling around, casting debris across town, tearing branches from my mental and emotional trees, I remain distracted, unless...

A deep, long breath intercedes. But this breath is different, more than the drinking in of oxygen, it is the drinking in of life itself. A transformation happens as I recall, hmmmm, Someone bigger than myself. I remember why I'm here. I am not my own, I have been bought with a price. I have purpose beyond eating, working, paying bills. The winds calm. Trees no longer quake. I listen. Silence. Relief. Joy. Sleep.

Beloved...

2008-01-26T22:04:00.000-08:00

I have been reading and thinking about God, yes, dear reader, once again the subject comes to mind and blog. But this is not, I hope, the usual drivel to proceed from the mouth of a Christian apologist, but rather a fair-minded approach to what He's up to in my life and yours.

I am not, by nature, a difficult person, nor am I pessimistic and yet I have those days. When things aren't going right I tend to first blame myself, then, when that gets old, I go straight for the Big Man Himself. Who better to blame then the one who could, but obviously didn't, make everything work out? There was a day recently where this was the case. In fact it was so bad that I was not just blaming Him, but myself as well, sort of a double barreled approach to the blame game.

I know, or am reasonably certain He doesn't laugh when I am such a mood, but it must be amusing to watch a mere mortal such as I go through this bit of Tom-foolery. First and foremost, blame does no good especially when it is over not much at all, just my own self condemnation. But the idea that blaming both He and me (I know, the grammatical error is for effect!) helps either party is the rarest of fallacious thinking. It even makes me smile, at least now, to think that I thought that it could be of some assistance. Ah, therein lies the rub ... that somehow the blame game is something that can help! Not at all, it is all about punishment, scapegoating, if you will.

Human beings want justice, no matter that we are often our own wrongdoers, so we go to work to punish ourselves for whatever we feel we have done that is embarassing, stupid, you name it. It happens to me in my business when I make a decision that doesn't, well, turn out like I thought it might! So, BAM, I go to work punishing myself for that decision. FORGET the fact that, unlike 90% of the world, I at least MAKE decisions! Somehow it didn't work out JUST right so I am going to kick the snot out of myself and, well, the one person who could have made it work!!!! Hello? Am I making any sense? You've done it, too, admit.

Of course God is not to blame and, well, that isn't the point anyway. We point fingers, He simply waits. We rage at the storm, like Lieutenant Dan in Forrest Gump, as the Hurricane blows he yells, "Is this the best you've got?" or something like that. But God is waiting. waiting for the storm to end, the clouds to clear, the sun to shine. He is waiting to whisper sweetness to our soul, words of relief ... I love you, I am not looking to blame you, I forgive you (if this is needed), I will help clean up the mess. And finally, you are my beloved.

Yes, my beloved. Yes, YOU are my beloved. No matter what you have done, said, where you have been, what you have thought, even about Him, He is ready to bring rest to your exhausted, raging soul. I know it's true. He just did it for me. And I am grateful.

Trees...

2008-01-25T17:48:00.000-08:00

I am so lucky to work with very talented people, including my new designer, Erik. Take a look at this, ummm, sculpture, done from twist ties, made to look like a tree. Not only do I think I could have not done this, I don't think I would have ever had the idea to create something like it!

Kudos, Erik! Glad to have you on board. Nothing like a little entertainment to make our weeks fly by!

Harlan

Resolve...

2008-01-22T19:21:00.000-08:00

I have been told that overcoming obstacles is the first step on the journey to success, which also explains why so few attain anything like success, at least as narrowly defined in our culture. My online dictionary has as its primary definition the following: the accomplishment of an aim, or purpose. Ah, me, missed it again. It seems as though I, and a great number of others, define success by the pennies left over after the aim, or purpose is accomplished. And isn't it fair to, well, want to have some measurement by which to gauge the extent of one's success?

Maybe. Having been on the money losing side on more than my share of business deals, I am painfully aware of how a good, even GREAT project can become your worst nightmare when that one measuring stick is applied. Who's going to pay the bills? What will I do if the next one fails, and so it goes. Fear creeps in, causing paralysis, indecision, second guessing. I've been there. You, too?

But I am trying to redefine success, at least for my own peace of mind. What if I NEVER end up on the upside of a project again? What then? I have imagined every possible scenario, from giving up completely, to picking myself up, dusting the disaapointment off my clothes and moving on to the next thing. I like the last the best. Do you? I suspect it is true in all of life, not just in the business end of things.

So what is the magic sauce that makes us successful? Not rich, or even loved, but delivers into our hands " the accomplishment of an aim, or purpose." Perhaps it is in the trying that we succeed. Saint Francis of Assisi said this:

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace; (he says nothing about the quality of the music)
where there is hatred, let me sow love; (sowing love is not harvesting)
where there is injury, pardon; (forgiveness is hard work and doesn't come easily)
where there is doubt, faith; (putting our doubt on the line often increases our faith!)
where there is despair, hope; (and so it goes)
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

Success, at least as defined here, is doing the opposite of what we normally do. By going against our tendancy to give up, our resolve must be to see through the darkness and into the glaring and often painful light of purpose greater than our own.

I'm tired already! Good night.

Moving on...

2008-01-21T19:02:00.000-08:00

I have been stuck for a few days. It has been all for naught, this inter-mental mudslinging, as if I had done CI on myself. Oh, sorry, you poor thing, you don't know what "CI" is? Well, let me tell you what it is...it is the act of gathering, analyzing and applying information about competitors in your business. It's a shady activity as far as I am concerned, well used in political campaigns, which is why I think it is for the birds. And yet...

I do it to myself. Sure, it's a lot easier to get "inside" information about myself from, hmmm, myself, but you'd be surprised at how adept I am at hiding the real me even from me! There is the old denial ploy, refusing to face facts. Or how about the "it's not my fault I am the way I am scheme?" Huh, huh? You have these tools, too? Oh come on, I know you do. But in the end, well, we know ourselves and none of the hiding, denying, finger pointing, can change the truth about ourselves, (oops, first person rule) I mean, MYSELF.

But then I get stuck. I know the truth, I can't deny it any longer, it glares at me waiting for my response, or NO response. So the question arrives, "how do I get out of this muck and mire that is, well, me? I can't really blame it on anyone else. Lord knows I have tried. Speaking of the Lord, I've lost count of how many times I have blamed him for my problems, or should I say, choices that I made. It doesn't work to rationalize it away, because that is just another form of denial. So what to do?

1. Figure out what you are afraid of and face it down. Fear is often undefined. Name it. Pray about it. Expose it to the light. As you do so, it will shrink before your very eyes.

2. Stop running - the past is done and over. Running is just fear in motion.

3. Ask yourself, where do I want to be in five years? Two years? Next year? Next month? Set new goals. It's all about focus...what you focus on grows! So focus on something positive, it'll grow too, but without the heart burn!

OK, I feel better. Thanks for our little talk. Look, my wheels are no longer spinning!

Tone deaf...

2008-01-20T18:57:00.000-08:00

I play music. Listening is my business. You'd think after all these years of playing music that I would've figured it out. Music is better when musicians listen.

This morning, as I played in the worship band, I took more time to listen. "What?" I hear you saying, "Of course you listened, you were playing music! And music about listening."

Well, should be. There are distractions, I hear myself saying. Music, people, loud drummers! Hee, hee. Seriously, there's stuff going on out there. Besides, even my ego can get in the way of hearing what's going on with other in the band. That's right, ego. There I am, thinking about how I can play this incredible "riff" so people will think I am REALLY amazing...that kind of thing. E-G-O! It's a huge problem.

OK, so there I am at church this morning (a "check-your-ego-at-the-door kind of place if ever there was one!) and BAM, all of the sudden I am looking at the lead guitar player, Max, playing his solo on the worship song, "Hungry," and it hits me ... "Wow, that solo is amazing! Max," thinks I, "you are one amazing guitar player!" But then the real aha moment arrives, it's the first time in months that I have really heard what someone else is playing, because I am so FOCUSED on me. Oh, sure, I hear these guys play all the time, but I have not been listening. So is hearing listening?

Unequivically, no. From my kids to my co-workers, I crash through life thinking what I think, keeping my own counsel and, in general, just doing what I think ought be done. And, in light of my position as an owner of a business, that is to be expected. However...

I don't know everything. (I hear you saying "DUH!") But don't we all think we know, I mean really know what's best for us? We do. We ALL do. I do. But I want that to change in '08. To listen, register, understand, comprehend. That is what I LONG for in 2008.

I have suffered by not listening. No longer. I committed to listening, or at least trying to listen. (PAUSE) Do you hear that? It's me not talking, not typing, not haranguing on about this, that or the other thing! Ha, Ha! Here I am, a blogger, saying I will not harangue!!!!! What a laugh. But I want to try. And isn't that the main thing ... trying?

It's simple really. It starts with a word, not mine, yours, perhaps. A healthy does of silence. Perhaps enough space for someone else to speak. Can you hear them speak? I can, faintly, a whisper really.

Tweak...

2008-01-16T18:59:00.000-08:00

Today has been one of those days. Filled with things to do, people to see, decisions to make, usual sort of stuff. But at the end of this day life took a left instead of a right. Now I'm left-handed so that didn't bother me so much, at least to begin with, but now, as it all is sinking in, well, it has left me unsettled.

A conversation I had late this afternoon about how we, as a society, purchase goods and services made me realize, well, that I had missed a basic reality of life in these United States. I have heard off and on throughout my career that women really do make most of the purchasing decisions for each household, but well it must not have sunk in. Why do I say that? Well, as I have labored and toiled to promote the magazine I publish I haven't really given the appropriate emphasis to this important demographic. Lest I get too, well, technical (which is difficult for me because I really don't know anything!) the salient point of this bit of "aha" for me is that advertisers want, no need, to reach women (men, at least in the advertising world are mostly an after thought).

I am really ok with this personally because women generally make better buying decisions than men. But by missing this important point I have, gulp, spent the past 8 months investing heavily in a concept that hasn't done enough to reach the true buyers of goods and services ... our wives, mothers, grandmothers. Wooohooo! I celebrate you today, my dear female friends! However...

Therefore it has made it difficult to get the ad revenue we need to make a profit on each issue. Each month we struggle, partly because we are viewed as either slightly male-oriented, or neutral. Which has left me re-thinking the ENTIRE concept that my magazine is founded on. OK, fair enough, but what now? If we are going on, going to continue to publish, I probably need to restyle the magazine, editorially, visually. But it may be too late to recover.

Or not. Men have trouble hearing what women say, at times anyway and I am no different. But I am listening now, VERY carefully. What will they say?

Stay tuned.

(PAUSE)

"Honey, could you get me some shaving cream the next time you are at Save Mart? And don't forget to get more potato chips!"

Little talk...

2008-01-15T19:32:00.000-08:00

I am taking a detour from my "Bucket List" conversation to have, well, another kind of conversation. It involves fire, ashes, and a pit. Hmmm...

Earlier today I told a friend, "I just had a talk with my employees here, a pep talk of sorts. I said, "we need increased faith to go forward, we need God’s provision. No longer am I willing to live with losses, breaking even, just getting by... we must prosper. WE MUST PROSPER! It’s a new day and God has shown up. Praise His Holy Name!"

This conversation came at the beginning of our work day, but by no means the beginning of mine. It started at 3:37 AM. Just a twinge at first, in my mind, slowly becoming a full blown worry. Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING came crashing down around me, at least in my dream, my nightmare of what I felt was coming - at least at 3:37AM.

I popped out of bed, not wanting to disturb my sleeping spouse, and headed for the dreaded bench of worry - my sofa. Yes, I have gotten to know the sofa well since starting a business of my own, and not because I take a lot of naps. But I diverge from the story...

As I lay there in the dark, I pictured my life as I feared it might be in the "future," filled with unpaid bills, unfulfilled dreams and angry people. Angry for who knows why, but possibly that was my way of expressing anger at myself for being so...well, you get it. Deeper and deeper I sank into the sofa, lost in my now 4:10 AM anxiety. Lost to faith, lost myself, lost to God. Or so I thought.

"There comes a clearing," my friend Dean Rhodus once wrote. Well -

So I come to work. Not intending to be a leader, not thinking that leadership is even possible with the state of mind I had awoken in. But as I talked with my colleagues, my past kept coming to mind, miraculously, thinks I. Not the negative cassettes I often play, but the many moments of triumph, victory, answered prayer, relief. Then the story, my story of once having NO money, a huge financial need and two weeks in which to pay it. I told the story to Erik and Rachel. Subdued at first, but growing more animated as I recounted the slow rise from defeat to victory. The dread of the journey at first, but the rising chorus of victory as miracles began to happen. And happen they did, one conversation at a time, one step (read leap at first) of faith, one push through the fear. This was a "hard work miracle," God at my side, me dialing the phone, getting people excited to send me on my missionary journey. It was amazing!!!!! I believed first, then it HAPPENED. Do you, can you imagine my surprise that something actually worked?

I said in my post of a few days ago that Jesus often shows up in the light of the past. That's where we can say, for certain, YES, I SAW HIM, I SAW HIM, HE WAS RIGHT THERE BY MY SIDE! He did not abandon me then, HE WILL DO NO DIFFERENT NOW. He is here to stay! Can you see HIm? I can. He is there, as surely as, in 1986, he took me to India two weeks after I started the long, dreaded journey to pay my obligations. A journey that was neither long, nor difficult.

There comes a clearing...for you and me.

Seven Wonders...

2008-01-14T20:19:00.000-08:00

It's not what you think, seven wonders, that is. It's not the typical Babylonian Gardens, or the Great Pyramids, or even the Taj Mahal. I've actually seen two of the three mentioned above. No, my seven wonders are all mixed up, which is just like me. Mine are places, spaces and faces, all combined make up what I think is a really interesting list of things to do before I leave the planet. I don't know that I have ten, so I will number starting with one ... not that it matters, it's the thought that counts.

1. Church of the Holy Sepulchre - Jerusalem

2. St. Peters Basilica in Rome - This place can hold up to 60,000 people! Supposedly the place where Peter was buried.

3. Mt Kilimanjaro - love to climb this one!

4. Paris Opera House and Notre Dame

5. Skiing in New Zealand

6. Petra -Lost City of Stone in Jordan

7. The Italian Riviera

8. A visit with Bono from U2

9. Hmmm, now I am getting a little far-fetched, so I'll quit for now.

Anybody out there have others they would like to share?

10. I forgot about the Greek Isles - Santorini, Milos, Mykonos, Naxos, Paros

OK, that's it.

Opera...

2008-01-13T19:19:00.000-08:00

OK, I'll have to admit it up front ... I saw "The Bucket List" tonight, a film with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman and it got me to thinkin' about what I want to do before I kick the bucket. If this is too, well, cliche for you move on. This week is going to be all about refining that list. Please share your list, or any part of it, as it may change the things I am GOING to do. Having said that, I am starting with music:

10. See La Bohème (Pucinni's great opera) at the Teatro Regio (now the Teatro Regio Torino) in Turin Italy. The theater in which this great opera was premiered.

9. Hear the Berlin Philharmonic play Beethovan's 9th Symphony at the site of the Berin Wall on New Year's Eve.

8. Hear U2 in concert at a small venue, 1200 seats or less, in Ireland. How much would I pay to see them? Depends. What would you pay to see your favorite artist in a small place?

7. Play in ANY orchestra to accompany three great living artists: Yo Yo Ma, Itzhak Perlman and Dave Brubeck. Yes, that's right, Brubeck, at least I think he's still alive. Too bad his great sax player, Paul Desmond is no longer living, he certainly would have made my list.

6. Write one song that has an impact ... on someone. This is pretty open to interpretation, but it doesn't have to be a hit to be important.

5. Write one orchestra piece and have it played by one of the great orchestras of our day, even in rehearsal. Chicago, Philadelphia, NY Phil, whichever. (OK, I know, not likely, but a guy can dream can't he?)

4. Conduct Brahms Symphony #1 with any decent orchestra. On that same program would be Lark Ascending and Fanfare for the Common Man.

3. See Phantom of the Opera in London, conducted by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

2. Produce Jesus Christ Superstar someday.

1. I'll add this one after the first 5 are completed.

I am dying to hear some of your ideas. Please comment. Do it annonymously if you must!

Tomorrow - Seven Wonders of the World.

Edison...

2008-01-10T20:19:00.000-08:00

Myself:"They're going to think I'm crazy," says I to myself as I drive up to the coffee shop.

Me: "Yeah, but really, who gives a rip what they think ... don't they work for you?"

I: That's right, they work for you, so it doesn't matter what they think!"

Myself: "Easy for you to say, I am the one who has to wake up each day and be confronted with their mockery!"

I: "Mockery? Do you really think you are THAT important?"

Myself: "Well..."

Me: "Yeah, get over yourself!"

Myself" "Hold on just one minute! I have GOOD reason to be concerned. They have to respect me and if I tell them what I am thinking, well, it just won't be good for morale."

I: Morale, smorale, you have an obligation to tell them you think you're Thomas Edison. Hee, hee."

Myself: "What?! I don't think I'm Edison, only that I want to create a company that would emulate what Edison did. Creating stuff, products, you know, that would have practical applications. Like the light bulb."

Me: "Hee, hee, he's gone delusional again, His ego ideal must be deprived. HAHAHAHAHA!"

I: "Yeah, he's got a bad case of ego-not-so-ideal. Bwahahahahahahahaha!"

Myself: "Alright already, I admt it sounds whacky, but really, I have about a hundred ideas EVERY day that are, well, at least interesting."

Me & I: BWHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Interesting, eh. Having an idea is one thing, actually doing something about it another! And if you do something about this idea you'll get a one way ticket to the FUNNY FARM! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Myself: "Wait, that's it. Can you imagine all the possibilities, all the opportunities? Who knows what the world would be like if people actually DID something when they had an idea, crazy or not. Sure, we might have SOME delusional nuts like me walking around (laugh), but we also might have a cure for cancer, an end to our dependence on foreign oil, a solution for, well, the skies the limit! Ah, forget it. You two are so self centered! A couple of walking EGOS!

ME & I: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH! Look who's talking!

In the dark...

2008-01-09T19:40:00.000-08:00

Last night I mentioned that I was watching "The Pink Panther Strikes Again," with the hilarious Peter Sellers as Inspector Clousseau. Favorite scene: Clousseau is in an English Manor house as part of his investigation into the kidnapping of a professor and his daughter. Before interrogating the servants, Clousseau "takes a look around" the house and ends up walking into a room upstairs. The door opens, Clousseau goes in without turning on the light, shuts the door behind him. Total darkness. He strikes a match and starts walking, peering into the darkness. He cries out in his faux French accent, "anyone there in the dark?" Two beats later the door swings open behind him, the butler walks in, turns on the light and we see that Clousseau has been "walking" on a tread mill all along - going nowhere. I roll on the floor with laughter!

Hilarious, I think, because we, should I say, go through it all the time. The door is our future. Each day a new, unopened door. I look for the light and, well, mostly I can't find the switch. I strike whatever implement seems to be available, a call to a friend, a reassuring glance at my bank account, whatever, hoping it will supply enough light to get me to my destination. But you know, it just ain't easy.

OK, sometimes I get on the tread mill and no harm is done, just a lot of wasted energy. But more often than I like I run into a wall, trip over a chair, bump my head. It is then that I have a choice - PANIC! Or not. Is it too easy, too glib, to say that is why we need to have faith?

Belief in God is not a necessity for faith. We put out trust in lots of things, people, whatever, but the darkness, at least for me, is a place for discovering the unseen One ... when I can't see ANYTHING. It's still dark, dreadfully so. I still cry out in a shaky, try-to-be-brave tone of voice, "anyone there in the dark?" Sometimes I want to just sit down and travel no further. You, too?

So I walk. Not knowing what lurks there, I reach for a hand, one that can only really be seen in the light of the past. Oh yeah, says I to meself, "He met me there, and there, and there, it was dark then, too." So maybe, just maybe, "is anyone there in the dark?" Yes, I hear myself saying, there is.

Yawn. Too much thinking makes me tired.

I wonder what's on TV tonight? Shrek? I wonder...

Strikes again...

2008-01-08T20:27:00.000-08:00

I turned on my TV this evening instead of doing the puzzles in the Fresno Bee. I am a puzzle lover. Part of the joy in my life is figuring out a difficult, some would say vexing problem. I really enjoy it. On occasion I do forsake the crossword, the Jumble and the Sudoku, but only for really good reasons. Anniversary, children's birthday, that kind of thing, so tonight was truly a singular event.

I am not a big TV watcher in general and I cannot stand just going through the channels hoping, beyond a reasonable doubt, that I am going to find some program that will interest me. No, it's not that I am better than anyone, it's just not me. So imagine my surprise when I turn to some remote channel on our DISH satellite and see the title, "The Pink Panther Strikes Again!"

I couldn't believe it! One of the best comedies of ALL time, it pits Peter Sellers as Chief Inspector Clousseau against Herbert Lom's Former Chief Inspector Dreyfuss. The outcome is nothing short of a "5 Belly Laugh rating." But it got me to thinking, seriously, I guess, about the state of my own life and laughs. I don't laugh enough anymore...we, as a society, don't laugh enough.

The first time I saw the movie I was in a LARGE movie theater with 1,000 other people. We all laughed and laughed and laughed, all the way through. It was a shared community experience, a shared release of tension and joy, simultaneoulsy. I think I remember that everyone seemed a little nicer as we left the theater. I miss those experiences - although ... I did have one last year when Bill Cosby came to Visalia. Great comedy, clean, large crowd, hilarious. Kudos to Cosby for keeping it clean, making us laugh at ourselves.

When Bill is no longer with us, will there be others who carry that same ability, mission, integrity? The truly funny people of the world don't need angry words, epitaphs. All they need is the truth. My good friend, Mark Anderson told me once, "only the truth is funny." Hmmm.

"You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free," the Good Book says. The truth, if you laugh at it, will also make you easier to live with. Reruns anyone?

Salty...

2008-01-07T19:49:00.000-08:00

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," was how it all began. A meeting, actually one of a series of meetings, called "Concert of Prayer." My friend, Bob Grenier, Pastor at Calvary Chapel here in Visalia, has been the motivating force behind these concerts, but not one to take center stage in any way, he has given the spotlight to other pastors from denominations unlike his own. A stance that I respect immensely.

So with the sign of the cross, publicly given by this Lutheren minister, I knew it was going to be a great evening. How did I know? Anytime Christians of diverse theological and philosophical backgrounds lay aside those differences, great things happen. The format was simple beginning with a statement of the need, the need for prayer. Oh, I forgot to mention, before each call to prayer, Sarah McClintock and her husband led a beautiful song of worship and invitation. So it began...

"In this world torn apart by war, let us pray for peace in the Middle East, peace in our nation, peace in our cities, and protection for our troops," was what I think we were to pray for first. And pray we did. Groups of three, four, or, in our case seven, circled up, holding hands, crying out for divine help.

But I digress. Everyone in our group was known to us and one friend had confided to me a little earlier that he was a little uncomfortable praying in public. So as we held hands I plunged in first.

"Lord, we ask you to be here among us, teaching us to pray. Bring peace to this world, through your Son, the Prince of Peace!" I felt tears well up in my eyes, a lump in my throat, not manufactured by my words, but by the Presence. I have felt this Presence at various times in my life, always bringing with it emotion in my eyes, salty tears of humility and understanding of grace.

Several others prayed throughout this one hour concert, touching prayers for peace. But the one that got me most was the first prayer from my friend Stan, the one who was reluctant to speak. He prayed with inspiring, beautiful words, catching, I am sure, the attention of the residence of heaven.

There were four prayer sessions, each about 10 minutes long, preceeded by a song and simple instructions: pray for our community, our churches (man, we REALLY need that one), for ourselves. Funny enough, it was a night of giving up, laying down, picking up. Picking up the unity that is given only by the hands of love. Love that only the Presence can bring. Tearing down walls of hearts scarred by important and frivolous battles alike.

No sweeter music! What a concert.

Black leaves...

2008-01-06T13:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I noticed that the leaves on my beloved boganvellia had turned black, a sure sign of frost damage. The second time in two years, frost damage has devastated my back yard plants, but the "bog" managed to survive. However, it made my heart sink when I saw it, since the withered, black leaves gave it the look of a large, gangly person in mourning. Not able to stand the look for very long I determined to cut it back today all the way if needed.

Once I started the process this afternoon I was pleased to uncover green leaves underneath the curled, blackened floiage jutting out from the center. The closer I got to the house (the plant sits fairly close to one of our outside walls) the greener and more alive everything in fact was.

It struck me that the inside leaves had not suffered much, if any damage. I wondered aloud if I could live in such a way as to grow closer to my shelter and, well, suffer less damage in the frost of life. This led me to ask, silently, what, or who is my shelter?

The easy Christian answer is Jesus, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. But that is really too glib even for me. I put my confidence in lots of people, places and things every day that have nothing to do with the Trinity. In my case, as in the case of my boganvellia, shelter is not really needed for "every day." Shelter is needed in the storm, at times of drought, frost, ravaging winds, and torrential downpours.

So who, or what is my shelter? Who, or what is sheltering you? What will keep your leaves green with life in the day of the storm, instead of suddenly cloaked in black and death? It's an important question, one which I am having to seriously consider in my own heart and soul.

I guess I will always try to reach out neyond what is completely safe, it's my nature. But when the storm comes, I am moving back toward home!

Glistening....

2008-01-05T21:23:00.000-08:00

As I turned onto our street tonight, it struck me that something was wrong, well, no, not wrong, just different. The rain was pelting the pavement, ever so gently, but with determination and the street lights reflected off the wet street in a way that can only happen after a lot of rain. In fact, there were a few reflection on the street, but it didn't seem like there was enough light.

Today I had put away the Christmas lights, the ornament, taken the VERY dry tree to the recycle bin over on Demaree and Noble and just generally put Christmas 2007 into the history books. It is always good to do so, but comes with some sadness for me. Christmas is one of my favorite seasons, but it also is exhausting. So as I put the stuff away, swept the garage and prepared for the first full work week since mid-December, I was happy. Happy for the New Year, happy for what was past, but looking forward to what was to come.

But as I turned onto our street back from Border's, I realized what was missing. The white "icicle" lights that are the current rage, have now all been stuffed into boxes to await another Christmas year. The absence of blow up Santas, Snowmen, animated reindeer, even our Nativity scene, left a little hole in my idyllic vision of my street that I couldn't quite place. So, as I drove the two blocks around to my house, I said a silent goodbye to the lights that brightened my heart this past season.

It also gave me new appreciation for street lights of all kinds and porch lights, sending beacons of hope to anyone shivering in the cold, rainy darkness of winter. It made me wonder, who invented the porch light anyway? Whoever it was certainly deserves credit for bringing light into darkness. Something we should all try to do ... at least at night and in the "off season" between Christmas and every other time of year!

Time for a cup of hot chocolate.

Good night!

Sleepless...

2008-01-04T21:14:00.000-08:00

Last night was horrible. Toss, turn, cough, wheeze, blow my nose ... you know the drill, when you have a cold sleep comes only in snatches. Yes, snatches.

At one point I found myself at rest and, somehow, conscious of how restful it was to be resting while miserable. I know, it sounds silly to say, but, like all of life, when you fight hard for ANYTHING, getting it is, well, something to be savored. Yeah, that's it. In my business, perhaps all businesses right now, there seems is a feeling that the economy is failing and no one is buying, nothing is working. Every sale is hard fought, every deal made is made with extra caution, or should be, every prayer uttered is spoken with greater urgency.

Which brings me to - desire. Not the prurient kind of desire, but the aching, longing really, to do something good, important, productive. I saw an interview tonight with the king of "American Idol," Simon Cowell. It disturbed me greatly. Not because he was simply ok with taking part in humiliating some contestants, but mostly because being rich and successful justified the circus. I will admit, I have enjoyed watching "Idol." I really like Carrie Underwood and others discovered while part of the show, but I have a desire to live differently. I want to be successful, too, who doesn't, but I won't do it at anyone's expense ... at least intentionally.

So desire makes the difference, I hear. Does it? We can't see success until much later, hindsight, maybe, after lots of things have happened. I think we also define success differently as we move through life. Simon Cowell has his success, but his version would leave me empty, wanting, desiring more, which is kind of how I have always lived. I'm weird that way, oh well.

Does anyone else feel that way? Is it true that helping people leads to success? I hope so, because that is ALL i want to do. If it doesn't lead somehow to success in this life, well, I guess I'll find it in the next.

Now that's something to be longed for.

Cold...

2008-01-03T19:30:00.000-08:00

I have had trouble sleeping ever since our pre-New Year's Day jaunt to Mexico. Some of it may have to do with an acquired virus that resided yesterday in my throat, ouch, this morning in my nose, aaaaaachooooo, and finally now seems to be migrating to every joint in my tired body! But it brought to mind ...

My dream. I mentioned it two days ago before my oft misunderstood missive of yesterday (I was only TRYING to make a point by satirizing our cultural propensity for making resolutions we hardly intend to keep, yet we keep making them!) as a part of my vision for Mexico that included taco stands. Yes, I said, taco stands. If you haven't been to Mexico, or Tulare County for that matter, you may not be familiar with these little entrepreneurial wonders. In every community in the land to our south, these valiant businesses supply a much needed product in ANY economy - food. Not just food, but in some cases, GREAT food.

My experience began with a visit to a stand in Estero Beach, just outside of Ensenada. Keep in mind I am VERY picky about what and how I eat. But last Friday evening, after traveling all day from Visalia, making a stop at a small country church in a very small Mexican town, I was ready to eat at 9 PM. More than ready. As we passed the new Applebee's in Ensenada I blurted out that we could stop THERE, but to no avail. Our course, no pun intended, was already set. As we pulled up to the, hmmm, El Birrea I think, I wondered how I could get out of eating the food there. It was dark and, well, if looks are everything, I probably would not have stopped. I could not have been more wrong. Being the adventuresome and risk-taking type that I am, it seemed like a challenge to make myself find something about the experience that I could enjoy. Hey, there were people there and, I like people. So out of the car we pile and then those fateful words ... Señor? Which I knew, may I help you.

"Quiero dos tacos, por favor." I replied tentatively, but brimming with pride at my liguistic abilities.

"Queso, Señor?" Hmmm, cheese, too?

"No, gracias."

My first bite, tenuous as it was, was also the last time I doubted we could have great food in these little tiendas. It was delicious. And from that point on I made a mental study of these businesses. Yes, they are businesses and they THRIVE everywhere. It gave me hope. Hope. Now, just like great food, one does not associate hope with Mexico, necessarily, but I saw taco stand all over the country and they were busy. Here's how we solve the immigration problem - no, not free tacos, although if you get that going let me know.

By encouraging and funding entrepreneurs in Mexico we could see a miracle not unlike what has happened in Ireland in the past decade, or China, or India. I have been to two of the three of those countries and, frankly, Ireland and India had just as many problems with corruption and depair as Mexico does today. But somehow, by opening up the economy, encouraging entrepreneurs, those economies have skyrocketed. That is a GREAT dream. And it could be done. But how?

More tomorrow! I need rest.

¡Buenas noches!

Difficulties...

2008-01-02T22:02:00.000-08:00

Not much to say tonight, except be true to yourself. How do we recover the lost art of being honest with ourselves? Maybe ...

Ask God for courage when all we want is to run away, or avoid some difficult situation!

Remember that whatever comes of honesty, it is a whale of a lot better than what comes with dishonesty.

Discover what it is you really are looking for, needing, wanting, whatever, which will lead to truth about all of those things.

Finally, no truer words were spoken than those famous words of Jesus, "you shall know the truth and the truth will set you free."

That is my 2008, being true to God, myself and others. No greater goal than that!

Run for the border...

2007-12-31T08:35:00.000-08:00

Just arrived back in from Mexico this morning, 12:30 AM, after three wonderful days. No we weren't there to party, bring in the New Year, whatever, we were there as part of a REALLY short term mission trip for our church. Let me say one thing first above all else ... the people of Mexico, at least those we met, are warm and generous people. But they fight difficult societal and cultural issues that make life, at least on the bottom rung of society, difficult in ways we cannot imagine.

Poverty is a catch-all word that means little. However, when lined with corruption, lack of education, and poor, or no infrastructure, poverty has causes, reasons. The roads, especially in the mountain areas were abyssmal, making travel to some of the outlying areas, well, interesting. Yet, thousands were on the road, making do as best they could. Which sums up what they do there. Make the best of difficult circumstances. We ate the most incredible food there, not at Applebee's, although there was one in Ensenada, but at these little taco stands out in the middle of nowhere. And no, we did not get sick, but we did come away with a little shock and awe.

I said it aloud in a car load of Americans, entrepreneurship is alive and well with our neighbors to the south. We think of Mexico, if we think of it at all, as a place of crime and destitution, with teeming hordes wanting to come to our country, which, no doubt can be true some of the time. But once again, I came away with very different thoughts. Namely, most people there are NOT criminals, nor do they want to come here and take over our country, as some would have us believe. (Many want to come here no doubt, but most, I think, just want a fair chance right where they live). No, like you and me they simply want to make a living, support their families (they are much more family oriented as a society than we!) and to make a better life for their children. Sounds familiar?

But what to do? Not sure. But I had a dream last night ...

Ooops, gotta go, I'll tell you more tomorrow, it's time for tamales.

Prospero Año!

Putting on the dog...

2007-12-26T18:44:00.000-08:00

The most wonderful time of the year has just past, Christmas, that is, and we are now on to a new year. As I contemplate '08, I am reminded that Happy New Year rings true only as long as I do. I am reading a book, more like a letter in book form, by Brennan Manning, the incredible author who was in Visalia less than two weeks ago. What he shared then and what I am going to share now might make a small difference as we look to navigate another 12 months, one minute at a time. Then again, maybe not. Read on, who knows what will happen?

E.E. Cummings is quoted in the Preface to this insightful book, saying: "To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting."

Interesting quote, especially for me, as a person who has spent a lifetime trying to fit in and be different at the same time. Which leads to, guess what, insecurity and fear of what people think of me. So I go incognito. I put on my spiritual make-up ... worship team member, business leader, church member, good father, whatever, so those on the outside won't see who I really am. Weak, alone, fearful, hateful, grumpy, afraid of the future. Yet...

Manning says, "God calls us to stop hiding and come openly to him. God is the father who ran to his prodigal son when he came limping home. God weeps over us when shame and self hatred immobilize us."

"God loves us as we really are," says Manning, "whether we like it or not." Well of course we don't like it, that would be too easy and, well, REAL LIFE just isn't like that, is it? What is "real life" anyway? Our parent's told us about real life, but for our own good. They didn't want us to become "starry-eyed dreamers, " what good would we be? No good, apparently. Still, something inside calls me to believe. In what? Love?

"His love, which called us into existence, calls us to come out of self hatred and to step into his truth." Hmmmm, if God "called me into existence," well, maybe, just maybe, he knew what he was doing. Yeah, that's it. He knew what he was doing. Can I live with that in 2008?

"I've gotta be me," the old song says. It's worth a try ... no, I'm worth the try. Called by love into existence. That's me. You, too? Now that's real life.

Happy New Year!

Snow...

2007-12-23T19:06:00.000-08:00

On a recent shopping trip for Christmas presents, the following conversation was recorded in my brain. I share it here as a parable to any who struggle with "goodwill" toward men and women this Christmas season.

Me: Hey lady, didn't you see me WAITING to drive my car into that parking spot?

Sleepy: She didn't see you, Mack. Lean back, relax, it is Christmas after all. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Me: Yeah, whatever, but SHE saw me and I don't appreciate her inconsiderate, bah humbug attitude. OK, well, here's another spot. We might as well go in to Best Buy to pick up the video game my daughter wants.

Doc: You're buying a video game for your daughter? I thought those were primarily for boys.

Me: Well, there are a few without gratuitous violence, soft porn, or, well, you get the idea. Still, I don't like the way the guy at the counter is taking SO long with that lady, who does she think she is? Snow White?

Sneezy: It's Advent. Isn't Advent about waiting? Ahahahahahchooooooo!

Me: What? Are you crazy, what does that have to do with my shopping list and Christmas? By the way, bless you.

Happy: Advent has NOTHING to do with your list, but I think you could learn something from the concept "Come, thou long expected Jesus!" Like DELAYED gratification. It could make you feel, well, a little joy, or something.

Me: Man, you guys are out of touch with the true meaning of Christmas. It's all about getting in the mall and OUT in the least amount of time, with the fewest altercations while spending the least amount of money possible. It has nothing to do with all these other high-falutin' ideas. I still can't figure out why I have to get this stuff. That's why I got married after all, so SHE could do my gift shopping.

Bashful: Um, uh, ah, um, we, we, uh, have some major, uh, blame shifting happening here, sir. I, uh, um, think you have a bad attitude, if you beg my pardon.

Me: Darn right, it isn't my responsibility ... hey, could we hurry it up up there, please! I have a game to watch ... AT HOME!

Cashier: Hold on, Grumpy, I'll be with you in a second! Merry Christmas, Ma'am! NEXT!

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s Strength and Consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear Desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

Born Thy people to deliver,
Born a child and yet a King,
Born to reign in us forever,
Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.
By Thine own eternal Spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone;
By Thine all sufficient merit,
Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

Gardening...

2007-12-22T16:30:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, today was a day for gardening for me. Not in the literal sense, although I was outside, working my yard, raking leaves, sweeping walks, I even mowed the lawn, not so much because the grass was long but simply to clean the remnant leaves from the green expanse of my little place on this planet.

No, there were no flowers to plant, it was the interior I was working on today, the garden of my mind. I became aware of a fertile and well grown by now, dream of some years that had flowered and bloomed. This dream plant is not, as many may guess, my business, or any particular vocational activity that I now do at some level. No, not only has this dream gone unfulfilled, but it is also of such a deeply personal nature that I am hesitant to share it here. But I share it here because something ordinary/extraordinary happened while mid-garden, that I felt I must write it down.

You see, dreams wield power over us, sometimes for good, sometimes in not so good ways, those are called nightmares! This dream, while largely good has had nightmare moments. In the sense that it has often looked so unobtainable, so absolutely impossible, so far out of reach that even the furthest galaxy seems to lie closer than what I dream of. And, the most irritating part of it, for me at least, is that it cannot come because of something I do. If that were the case, well, I would do whatever it took to realize it.

So today I am merrily (in deference to the season) raking leaves, sweeping the sidewalks, mowing the lawn. But filled with consternation over my inability to forget said dream growing in the garden of my mind. Therefore, because I am who I am, I began to pray for God to take it away, begging him to realize, as I had, that I just couldn't take it anymore.

But a strange thing happened as I did so ... my mind flashed to so many dreams that had come into my life that had once felt utterly fool=hardy, but that somehow, through the course of time they grew into beautiful plants needing my attention. All these visions had one thing in common: I could not create the circumstances (read move the mountains) myself, because the dream was on a set course and would arrive at just the right time and no sooner. Oh yes, and WITHOUT MY ASSISTANCE! A companion thought also arrived at the same moment to remind me that, well, it was still in the "plan," it was just going to take time to make everything work out. I guess my idea of good timing is not necessarily God's.

Oddly, all this, hmmm, communication gave me hope. Most of us think that the more WE are in control the more hope we will have. But in truth I have found that when I embrace the idea that I have no control whatsoever, except in how I respond to changing circumstance, well, hope grows. (Besides, having control can lead to excessive meddling, not a good thing to help dreams grow). After all, who really knows how a plant grows? The farmer? The botanist? Oh, they may know elements of the process, but plants, like dreams and visions, grows on their own, powered by forces unseen to either you, or me.

YAWN, time to take a nap and watch my plants grow!

Champagne...

2007-12-21T20:40:00.000-08:00

Champagne, pizza, and pumpkin pie. Sounds kind of weird, huh? But it wasn't, not at all. We gathered in my office today for our first ever official office party, about 12 of us, and we had a blast. No, they don't all work for me, but all of my guests today work with me in various ways, helping us make progress in the daily battle for, well, progress!

Mike and Mark, my radio buddies came and added wit and style to the gathering. They own and operate the new local sports radio station in Visalia, Sporting News Radio on 96.1. Donna, my ever faithful friend and cohort on the Biz Talk event was there, as was Donnie Clark, a great friend and collaborator for the Bill Cosby event we held at LJ last March. There were others, if you can count, but I mention those three because, well, because this is my blog and that's what I want to do! Just kidding.

Some of our guests drank champagne, some Diet Coke. But as our group gathered and grew throughout lunch, the bubbles seemed to affect everyone whether they were drinking champagne or not. Why? It's intoxicating to be in the presence of people you really enjoy, respect and, in the very best way, love. These are ceiling people ... they pull you up, call you higher. They are the opposite of basement people ... pulling you down! You know what I mean, I know it.

In their way, well, they, hmmm, they are like the bubbles in champagne - they float to the top and, in the process, they pull you to the top, too. It was so much fun to laugh, to talk, to toast the coming of Christmas, the advent of a new year, and reflect on the past year, with people you know will be there for you no matter what. Which got me to thinkin' ...

About miracles. The everyday, common sort of miracles we miss too often. The hand that pushes your stalled car out of a busy and dangerous intersection, the encouraging voice on the other end of a phone after a bad, BAD day... those are miracles. As I looked around the room at lunch just today I saw ordinary, walking, talking miracles. I hope they think of me in the same way, but if not, well that's ok, because it makes me happy to be known by such incredible bubbles.

Cheers!

Visitation...

2007-12-20T10:31:00.000-08:00

Christmas has created some good, some not so good traditions. What are they?

1. The holiday party - Where would our culture be without these bastions of holiday finery? Seems as though everywhere you go, Christmas revelers are gathering to make merry. The restaurant and catering sectors of our economy rely on them to make money and the purveyors of fine clothing rejoice at the Advent of this season. Men and women alike seem to think this is the perfect time of year to paint the town red wearing dreadfully gaudy clothing that is often WAY too small for their post-Thanksgiving-pumpkin-pie-eating bodies! And the ties, guys, come on, Santa tiled in neon colors wrapped around your neck, what were you thinking? And no reindeer antlers, please, PRETTY PLEASE!

2. Visits from old friends and even older family - Just this evening some old friends came to our home to bring, not just their presence, but also their PRESENTS! Yes, Christmas compels people to visit others with whom they have lost touch, a really great tradition. That's all good, but one request when coming to my house, PLEASE warn me that you are bringing a gift so I can get you something in return. Nothing like a little guilt to go with that bottle of Merlot!

3. Finally, the food. Who can deny that Christmas is filled with culinary treats for the eye, ear, nose and palate? Fresh roasted turkey, mashed potatoes WITH gravy, followed by pecan, or pumpkin pie (watch that waist line!!!) and of course, good coffee. I like Christmas Blend from Starbucks, but any hardy blend with a dash of cinnamon will do. My only complaint is, well, too many sweets. I know, I know, it's hard to complain when your office is a regular stopping place for the See's Candy Mini boxes, but really, folks, can't we figure out a way to put carrots in nice foil packages? That would allow us to eat from the Christmas trough with a little less fear and trepidation. Still, what would Christmas be without the wonderful caramel, chocolate cream, butter cream, white chocolate mints, and...

Hmmm, if you'll excuse me, I need to put my Santa tie on, squeeze into an old pair of slacks and head to the mall. I feel a VISIT to the See's Candy lady coming on! Oh, uh, she's an old friend!

Caroling, Caroling through the snow, Christmas bells are ringing!

Decorations....

2007-12-19T21:21:00.000-08:00

We were sitting around the office yesterday planning our Christmas party for Friday and, well, it just didn't seem like Christmas to me. So I told Rachel that we needed to decorate the office to make it feel more like Christmas.

"You want me to go to the Dollar Store?" She asked.

Now this girl can shop, ESPECIALLY at the Dollar Store, so I readily agreed. She wasn't gone but an hour and back she comes into the office with what seemed like a ton of wrapping paper, a GIANT stocking and a mind filled with imagination. So for the next two hours we created a Christmas environment unparalled in our community. (OK, maybe I'm overstating that just a little!) Even I joined in on the action, creating decorations that, well, would go well in any trailer home in the U-S-of-A!!!! In fact, I felt like I was five again, mostly due to the quality of my work! Lots of heart, zero skill. You know how it goes.

But quality was not at issue here, only the spirit of what we were trying to accomplish. I wanted to make sure that our clients, friends and even residents of offices around ours would discover some new Christmas joty that might have been lost in the hurly burly of Merry Mall-mas!

Of course, I had to have music, so I dialed up Christmas with the Cambridge Singers and we sang as we cut, taped and created. Ding Dong Merrily on High was heard throughout the hallways of our fine building. There were other songs, Joy to the World, What Sweeter Music, For Unto Us a Child is Born, you know, the classics. But best of all, we were giving, giving something we couldn't buy - our creativity, our imagination.

As I hung the last candy cane on the door, I was pleased with what I saw. It sort of reminded me of something I heard once ... And the Lord looked at all he had made and said this is GOOOOOD!" Giving is good, giving of yourself is GOOOOOOD!

Happy last minute shopping!

Joyeux Noel!

Cracked...

2007-12-18T08:15:00.001-08:00

The lights dimmed, the orchestra stopped the fierce, sometimes maniacal playing of their instruments, and out walks a tall woman with a violin in her hand. The audience gives her a measured round of applause as if to say, "please me and more will come later." But we are not here to hear a lone violinist, or even this moderate sized orchestra. No, on this Monday's eve in December, the 17th to be precise, we have arrived at the concert hall to partake in a feast, not one for the palate, but one for the eyes, ears and mind. But let me back up a bit and tell the story.

One month ago, my friend Stan asked me about an upcoming concert that his wife Wendy had wanted to attend.

"Can you get tickets for the Renee Fleming concert?" he asked.

Fortunately, I have a connection or two, but short of promising anything I simply told him I would " see what I could do."

AS soon as I got back to my office I emailed Ron Eichman, the General Director of the Fresno Grand Opera, asking if he still had good seats available for sale for this December fundraising concert. After a few short minutes, he came back on the line and had several options for us to consider, so I called Stan and we made our plan. Ten tickets, front two rows of the lower balcony. Great seats, this was going to be good.

Now I am kind of cracked, so my idea of fun may not be yours, because I have, well, let's just say REALLY diverse tastes in music. I cut my teeth on folk music, my parents were both great singers and my dad played guitar very well. But they both loved classical music, too, and, well, everything else. Tis true for me, too, but probably more extreme. Since I was trained as a classical musician, well, I know it, love it most of the time, but also listen to lots of country western, A/C, jazz and even Broadway musicals. In fact, musicals, like Les Miz happen to be one of my great passions in life. Ok, back to the story.

I was looking forward to the upcoming concert, but I am always a little apprehensive when attending an event with a legit (read, classically oriented) singer and people who may, or may not like it. I want them to like it, I want them to hear the beauty that inspires me, but, well, it just ain't possible, nor desirable to infuse them with my background and experience. So, as orchestra finished tuning I felt my body shifting a little nervously hoping, praying really, that my eight friends who had paid lots of moeny would enjoy the experience as well.

Now don't ask me that psychology of why we want, no need people to enjoy what we enjoy. I think we are all wired to share experiences of all kinds, good, bad, indifferent. Otherwise we would not seek out public events, cowering instead in a lifeless, lonely existence. Yes, it is "good for man to not be alone," unless someone is bored to tears at an event you RECOMMEND! Ha, ha, what folly. What a coward I am at times and fortunately, both Renee Fleming and my friends proved me wrong again.

She sang. No, I mean, she SANG! Can anybody give me an AMEN? Yes, her style is operatic, but no one can deny the power, the versatility, the softness, the range, the unbelievable beauty, not only of her voice, but of the music written for the human voice through the centuries. My friends were moved ... Yes, all of them. The initiated, the uninitiated alike. Just to stand in the presence of 2300 people listening to this talented lady, standing ovation aside, was amazing. The orchestra was so able, capable and up to the task of supporting her task. And there was joy in the room.

No, this was not the opera soprano of caricature, large, Wagnerian helmet with horns on it. It was a touch of the divine brought to a diverse group of listeners and musicians who, up until those moments had little in common save a ticket and a night out.

Imagine what it must have sounded like many years ago when the angels sang just outside a little town, not unsimilar to Fresno California.

Gloria in excelsis Deo.

Conditions...

2007-12-15T16:33:00.000-08:00

"Be who you is, or you will be who you ain't," was the exact wording used by the diminutive man on stage.

I had arrived at the theater early Friday evening to rehearse with my friend and fellow musician, Kevin. He had been asked to lead a few songs before each session of a talk by Brennan Manning and wondered if I would help out. I readily agreed weeks ago,but now here we were and, well, I just wasn't sure I wanted to be there at all. I won't bore you with the details, but there is always something better to do than attend a lecture. Lecture, even the word bores me, but since I had made the commitment to my friend, I decided to make it work, come what may.

After Kevin and I finished leading the worship time, a white-haired, man shuffled onto the stage and began with a joke of Yiddish origin. It was hilarious. But the humor stopped there, at least the intentional humor as this unassuming man, known throughout the Christian world for his books on the grace of an ever-loving savior, wove a real life tale of his own destructive habits and the God who loved him through it all. It was his personal openess that convinced me that this was going to be far more than a lecture, that an encounter with something extraordinary was about to take place.

"As a man I love people, places and things that attract my eye, please my senses. But God loves no one because they are pleasing to him, rather he loves because it comes from inside of him. It is not dependent on how we act, what we say, or how much money we give to the poor." Simple enough, but...

Even if we don't believe in God EVERYTHING else is dependent on our performance, hence it is conditional. Our marriages, our parenting, business, jobs, all of it point to the normal way of looking at things. That's it, "normal" is what we expect, but Manning said it last night, or should I say he shouted it, "YOUR VIEW OF GOD IS REFLECTED IN THE WAY YOU ACT IN THIS WORLD! But God does not act the way we expect him to. He loves us when we are lovable, when we are unlovable, he loves us when we are light, when we are darkness!" ARGH! I can't even begin to say what he, Manning, said. I can't even hardly understand the God he described, because what he said was so Earth shattering, so unlike ANY Christian I have met, so far removed from ANY so-called saint filled with virtue, that I found it incredulous. Yet, as I sat there listening a voice, no, a memory, memories began to parade themselves across my mind as if to say, "yes, all this man says about me is correct, but you have such a hard time seeing it."

In the end the words have failed me. But words, like lectures change no one. What will change me, though, is the lingering sense that I encountered the one, true God, as described in Christian scripture, but seldom encountered in Christian culture.

"For God so loved the World," the good book says, but the world couldn't hear the message born 2000 years ago.

I still don't understand all of what I have heard, but in my ignorance I am now listening more closely to hear his voice of love.

Confused? Me, too. Maybe he (God) is just too big to comprehend.

Christmas Card...

2007-12-12T20:58:00.000-08:00

Today I received a Christmas card from a company I do business with on a fairly regular basis. I only opened the envelope only because the return address had the name of the company printed, in gold leaf, of course, on the back. Perhaps I am naive, or grumpy, or whatever, but it bothered me that of the seven names on the card, not one of them was recognized by my little brain. Now before you think me more Scrooge than Santa, let me say that, in spite of it all, I loved the card. I guess I am an old softy, because when the season, Christmas, overflows with good wishes from strangers and soulmates alike it gives me hope.

But the card still bothered me ... slightly. Maybe because so many of my relationships have lost the face to face nature of, well, true relationship. Email, teleconferencing, text messaging, all of the great tech advances in communications, have eroded day to day talk, conversation. How many of us have gotten an email and COMPLETELY missed the point because we couldn't hear the tone of voice, the smile on the face, the body language? It has happened to me a bunch of times and, well, I am weary of it.

I am not advocating giving up the cell phone, PDA, computer, none of that, because those who know me know that I use ALL of those tools to their fullest. What I am going to do, though, is give a gift to my family and friends first, clients second. I am going to go see them before Christmas, say hi, talk to them, listen (when able! Ha, Ha.) and best of all, discover anew the reason why a baby was born in Bethlehem more than 2000 years ago.

Sleigh rides...

2007-12-11T07:46:00.000-08:00

A lady came to the What's Up "World HQ" yesterday and what she shared with me and my staff made me reflect on the joys of small town life.

In the December issue of What's Up Magazine, we published an interview with Exeter native and World Series winning Bench Coach, Brad Mills. We have had tons of people compliment us on the article and photos (thanks to Tony D and Ryan Krauter) but the visit by this gracious lady was different.

I had heard that Brad's sister (turns out she is his sister-in-law) was coming to pick up copies of the magazine to give to friends and family, which is always a blessing to me. But when she came through the door I had no idea the connections that would unfold from that point forward. Judy has long red hair, a ready smile and eyes as big as the California sky. But she also has what appears to be a natural curiosity, and marketing savvy evidenced by the questions she had about the magazine. One question in particular piqued my interest ...

"How much does an ad cost in your magazine?" she asked.

Well, that is music to a publisher's ears and I proceeded to explain our rates and gave her the ubiquiteous rate card. But I always want to know why someone needs to advertise, partly for my benefit, mostly to see if it is the right thing for them.

"Well," she began, "we own a pack station in Horse Corral Meadow and we are wanting to offer sleigh rides in the winter months, you know, it just goes with the season."

I explained to her that the I loved the sleigh ride concept and, if they got it off the ground, would be happy to write an article about this new venture. Plus, I knew people who knew them and was intrigued by the connections.

"Hmmm," says I, "I have heard a lot about Horse Corral Meadow, in fact, didn't Jack Hannah write a song about it?"

"Yes, he did." she replied.

Long story short, I played that song for several years as part of Belinda Gails band, Wildwind, and loved to imagine being in that beautiful place everytime we played that song.

Then she told me, "we also run pack trips into the back country from our station up there."

Well, this started a conversation about several people that I know that, as it turns out work up there, or have been affiliated with their pack station for a long time. It was like old home week.

Later it dawned on me, this is why I love living in Visalia. Big enough to have World- class athletes call it home, small enough to have connections to remote people and places in the most surprising ways. Hey, I belong to a community, I have found my place in this world. That, at least for me, is no small feat. In my heart it was a reason to celebrate.

Sort of makes you want to hop in a sleigh, pour yourself a hot cocoa and take a ride. Does it not?

Piece meal...

2007-12-10T18:29:00.001-08:00

We have been slowly putting up our Christmas decorations. Slowly, not really by intent, but merely a function of modern living. With two kids in high school, a dog, two cats, one very funny Guinea Pig and, of course, a business and a job, we have a lot going on. So tonight when my wife called from Walgreen's to say she was purchasing new lights for our Christmas tree I was excited. One of the best things in my life has alway been decorating the tree before Christmas. And yet, in the past couple of years it has become a little, well, boring.

Maybe I just long for a place with snow in December. I simply remember magical mornings with virgin white snow piled in the yard, the coffee pot percolating away (this is in the days before Mr. Coffee) and the sounds of Christmas coming from our "hi-fi." Yes, that's right, I am old enough to remember what music was like before CDs, surround sound and all of that. even the old LP records would fill our home with music, joyous Christmas music. One record I particularly loved was the FULL version of the Nutcracker by the London Symphony Orchestra. On a snowy Colorado December day, I could sit inside all day, at least on Saturday, and do nothing but read and listen to great Christmas music. I suppose some might call that kind of a Christmas season day boring, but, well, I often reflect that all my busy-ness does not necessarily lead to less boredom, only a different kind.

Yes, I can be bored by being busy. You too? Have you ever found yourself thinking about all the things you would rather be doing while right in the middle of complete craziness? That's what is really GREAT about a big snowstorm. It shuts the craziness down!

Just last year we were in Colorado just two weeks before Christmas and, bam, one day after we arrived it snowed THREE feet. Since we were staying with friends, it worked out just great. We could go nowhere, I mean NOWHERE, as the streets were completely closed. So we all just stayed in, cranked up the fire and relaxed. Not once did I feel bored. No, I take that back ... the one time I did feel bored I did something I always loved doing on snowy days.

I wrapped myself up in a heavy coat, hat and gloves, put on my big old snow boots, made in, where else, Canada, grabbed a snow shovel and heaved twelve million snowflakes out of my buddies drive. Best part, I met several of the neighbors, also bored from their long winters nap! Then it happened, just as I was about to go in, some crazy guy in an SUV got stuck a half a block from where I stood. I trudged up a little hill, toting my shovel of course, knocked on his window and asked if he needed help. He was ecstatic. Several of the neighbors and I worked for 1/2 an hour and voilå, he was unstuck. We all cheered as he drove off into the snowset.

So now when I think I am bored with Christmas decorations I just remember snowy days gone by and the joy a little shovel, a lot of water and a cold wind can bring!

Christmas lights...

2007-12-08T21:29:00.000-08:00

Las Vegas. What can I say. There is no where in the world with such an amazing conglomeration of people, places and things to do. I arrived there this past Thursday just in time to board a bus from my hotel for the Thomas and Mack Center, the home of the National Finals Rodeo.

Now let me make it clear, I am a citified tin horn without any rodeo credentials whatsoever. Oh sure, I have ridden horses at a variety of resorts and with friends, but I am not, I repeat, AM NOT, comfortable around horses, cows, or other animals associated with rodeo. But I do love it. Always have. But I am not there for myself, not even necessarily for my magazine, although I am doing business in Las Vegas by covering the people that make up this event. No, I am there because I love my daughter.

My youngest is a barrel racer. She loves to ride horses around an arena and guide their course through as series of barrels and poles. They win or lose by the time they post in this game won by one hundreds of a second. And she wan't competing in the NFR's, she only wanted to see them.

We arrive at this arena, along with 13,000 other people all at about the same time. We pile off the bus and begin quite a long journey to the front door. Now I don't know how many of you have been to a rodeo, but there is a uniform and, well, pretty much everybody, man, woman, child, wears one. Wranglers, cowboy hat, checkered shirt, insulated vest (because it's cold even in Vegas). Also, most of the hats are black except for a few out of touch cowboys, or wannabes, like me ... mine is white. And I don't own Wranglers, I own Levi's.

We make our way into the arena, look for our section, 212, and make the long, and I do mean LONG climb to row R. We sit just in time for Rodney Atkins, a country western singer of note, to explode (literally) onto a stage at the far end of the floor. He sings one song and, wow, then the laser light show begins. I lean over to Katie and tell her to hold on this is going to be a great night. And it was.

There is something in all of us, red blooded Amercians that we are, that love a cowboy, or cowgirl on a horse, staying on in spite of the lumps, bumps and speed of horses, bulls, whatever. Although, there is an event this particular night that, well, is not being kind to any rider. The saddle broncs. I hear this is what they call an elimination round. They put in the meanest horses to eliminate everyone but the best. Sure enough, only three riders go the distance and one, gets stomped by his ride after making the 8 second whistle. There is drama there, real drama, because it looked as though he got it in the back. Turns out he broke his femur ... still, wouldn't want to be him.

But that isn't the only drama going on around us. Three young, or not so young ladies, looking for who-knows-what, are completely inebriated and screaming at the top of their lungs.One gal spills her drink on my wife, they are up, down, all around throughout the night. Oddly enough, and I am not one to let stuff like this go, I was able to completely ignor their shinnanegans. The action on the floor was too compelling to pay attention to these crazies.

The show came to a close. Sad. So we go out on the town, at least as much as you can with you 14 year old daughter in tow. We go down to see the dancing fountains at the Bellaggio. We miss it. So we go shopping across the street ... at 11 PM. Yes, it's all open on the strip, some things you want to see and lots you don't want a thing to do with.

We come back outside and, rats, the fountains have just finished. "Let's go in the Belaggio," says I, "I have never even seen the inside of the lobby."

Now one casino is about the same as the next so I am not hopeful we are going to find anything of interest. We walk through the door, filled with holiday revelers and stop, stunned at what we see. Just ahead there is the most amazing display of Christmas lights I have ever seen, all made from live materials, roses, carnations, you name it. And the light, the Christmas lights warm our hearts and inflame the imagination. It is amazing.

So, if you are looking for Christmas lights this season, head to the most unlikely place to see them, the Bellaggio Hotel in Las Vegas.

And while you're there, don't forget to wear your Wranglers!

One of those...

2007-12-05T21:28:00.000-08:00

I couldn't sleep at all last night. Oh sure, I got to sleep right away at 11 PM, as usual, but it wasn't long, oh, I guess 1:30 AM and I was up and at 'em. No I didn't go milk the cows, although it would have been a nice distraction, but I might as well have been working because I was wide awake.

For me it usually begins with a trip to the little boys room, then back in bed, flip, flop, wait a minute, flip, flop and repeat until I sense my wife has had enough. Then I pop out of bed, grab my pillow, PJ's for warmth and head for the couch. All pretty standard stuff when I can't sleep, but it's not what is going on outside that is important it's what is in my mind that is problematic.

You see, I suffer from a rare condition called MIddle of the Night Irrational Fear Disorder. No, I don't fear monsters anymore, that is so 1999, but rather losing control of my business through stupid decision making. Maybe that is a monster of a kind. After all, monsters are really just personifications of our deepest fears. So, yeah, that is my monster du jour. At least du jour du jour.

Early this morning I was in the squirrel cage of regret over money that had been spent needlessly but that I still had to pay. Because when you sign contracts that what it means, like it or not, needless or not, you agreed to pay them regardless. So there I am, darkness all around, both inside and outside but my eyes are staring wide into the abyss as if light were everywhere. And when I get this way I always want to quit. Not sure why and I am not sure why it is so strong in the middle of the night, but that is usually my reaction.

The monster roars, I cower, then occasionally I try a feeble meow back at the beast, hoping to fool him that I am stronger than I really think I am. Of course, the beast doesn't even notice my little attempt because he is too busy roaring.

I do pray, sometimes. I try reciting a verse from the Psalms, a standard coping thing for me. No workie. I toss and turn, with greater effort to be sure on my couch, but with no less conviction.

Then, finally, I fall asleep just in time to be awoken by my early rising spouse who bids me back to the bedroom so she can get on with the day, or least the day the clock says it has become . My feet dutifully will my body back into the chamber that once held deep slumber. I crawl in, chilled by the sheets against my sleepy body, but this time the sandman carries the day, uh, night. My lights go out. And for a few moments I rest.

Later that morning, I read an article about my recent new friend, German Amezcua, who has just lost his 9 year old son in a devastating car accident. The monster that seemed so real just a few hours before flees from my presence at the thought of this real life tragedy and I am reminded ...

"In this life you will have many tribulations," Jesus said, "but fear not for I have overcome the world."

I wonder, is it true? After a long internal pause, some inner, hmmm, voice, or something assures me it is. I lean my head back on the chair, close my eyes, now fully awake in every sense, I say a prayer for the Amezcua family. Rest, not sleep has finally arrived.

Peeves...

2007-11-29T20:01:00.000-08:00

Stuff the envelope, lick the gummy flap, seal the envelope. This is the process Rachel and I went through early this morning as we prepared to send out 43 invoices and magazines to our customers. For me, not typically involved in this process, it was actually kind of fun. I wasn't just anxious to get the invoice to our customers, but I really wanted them to see the great magazine our team came up with this month! At least in my eyes, it was a work of art.

So there I am, stuff, lick, seal and so it goes until the 43rd package is ready to go. Double check that each one has a label, weigh a single envelope, hmmm, 3.5 ounces, good. Head over to my trusty steed, iMac G5, open my web brouser, type in www.usps.com, and there it is on the post office web site ... "calculate postage." I do so. $1.31 per package, ok, times 43 equals $56.33. Write the check, everything going smooth, I'm feeling good. OK, now it's time to take them to the post office, have them print the postage on 43 little postage strips and they'll be in the mail. Rachel volunteers to take them, I demur since I really want to drop them in the slot myself. Ah, the joy of sending something you are proud of and relishing every minute of it.

Down I walk three blocks to those trusty, heroic postal workers who would, at least according to legend, brave the dark of night, rimy, sleet ridding sidewalks and all manner of other dangers, just to deliver my package.What JOY they will feel at my triumph! How they will gladly come to my aide, rapidly placing computer generated postage strips on my bundle of pride! I am whistling as I enter the downtown Visalia post office.

Line. There is always a line. Why is there a line. My joy starts to ebb. The man in front of me is now buying, what did he say, 7 money orders to send to Mexico! Argh. But wait, I should be happy, says I to myself, or someone who looks an awful lot like me. Yes, I am happy.

Finally, the moment has arrived.

"Forty-three pieces, 3.5 ounces, and I have a check for postage, $56.33." Says me!

"I'm sorry, sir, what did you say?"

I repeat, with slightly more joy, and a little irritation.

"OK, just a moment." she says, as she disappears through a trap door, or something.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally she appears, but with something in her hand. Actually a PILE of somethings in her hand. Then it happens. She pours 129 STAMPS out on the counter and with a wistful, almost sardonic grin she asks, "do you need anything else?"

Dumbfounded, I trip over my words, "uh, uh, uh, no, nothing else." Then, from deep inside my inner customer rises up, seeking justice in the marketplace and I say, politely, but with firm conviction, "you're giving me stamps? Can't you just print postage strips?"

All three ladies manning the post office counter look up, as one person and, singing in a unison that would make the Mormon Tabernacle Choir beam with pride, they sing together, "Oh no, sir, we can't do that for you, that would take too long, you must put the stamps on yourself!"

I leave, not simply deflated but amazed that one of the largest parcel delivery businesses in the world cannot process my beautiful, bundles of joy with a simple POSTAGE METER!~!! I dial my phone...

"Hello, FEDEX..."

1965...

2007-11-27T20:11:00.000-08:00

Six in 1965. Life in the U.S., at least at that point was still pretty much a "Leave it to Beaver" kind of scenario. I remember every Sunday evening, around 8 O'clock, getting in my cowboy themed PJ's and watching the very popular TV show, "Bonanza" on NBC. Idyllic, cozy, warm. But all of that was to end, both for our country as well as for me personally.

Trouble was brewing. The civil rights movement, long over due, was about to set our civic world afire in a cry for justice that had long gone unheard. The hippie movement, the anti-war riots that would shatter college campuses all over was yet to come. But in my house, my warm, red brick laden home, my parent's were on the verge of a nasty divorce that would rend our family in two, sending the three kids into a decade of restless wanderings and uncertain outcome. My mom would end up with custody, but lacked any true ability to support this new family of four, save her monstrous determination and unwillingness to give up. Amazing lady.

But as I lay in front of our black and white TV set, late November, 1965, all that was in the future. So, with all my family around me, I watched and laughed at the hapless misadventures of Charlie Brown, in his now classic "A Charlie Brown Christmas." So there we were, at least in my dreamy memory, laughing, enjoying, but then falling oddly silent when Linus began to speak about the true meaning of Christmas. You know the speech, straight from the Gospels..."and there were shepherds abiding in a field, keeping watch over their fields by night..." Great speech, but a mystery to my six year old mind.

2007. Here I sit, listening to the same speech, told by Linus himself, in our cozy, warm home, with, well, no one around me. Hmmm, one daughter is out studying with friends, the other is studying in her room. So I am alone listening to voices from my past, some of them recorded on tape and playing on the satellite connected TV, some of them solitary, known only to myself, speaking the secrets of a family, a life gone past, four decades long.

Everything has changed. My parents have long ago moved on in their lives, my brother and sister have created families of their own and, I guess, moved on as well. I have moved on, too, and thank God, really, THANK GOD!

But not everything has changed, for I am still looking for magical stars in the Eastern sky, angels singing in the fields and a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes who would save my dad, my mom, my sister, my brother, and me from the terror of a future we could not predict, let alone control.

He did it once, I am betting he can and will do it again.

Gloria in excelsis deo

Best list...

2007-11-24T08:28:00.000-08:00

Here are the top ten things I love about the Christmas season!

10. Sing-a-long Christmas concerts. There is NOTHING like joining voices with hundreds, or even dozens of people to sing, O Holy Night, Joy To The World (no, not the Three Dogged Night version), We Three Kings, and all the rest!
9. Fireplaces. Anytime, give me a fireplace, a book, a cup of hot chocolate and...
8. John Rutter Christmas CD (not sure this is the name, so if you want to know the name, email me and I'll get it for you!) - this is one of the most amazing recordings of Christmas music EVER!
7. Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. Yes, you got it right, I LOVE shopping for gifts on the zany, crazed-shopper filled day. There is an electricity in the air that is contagious. The hustle, the bustle, THE HUNT! Bwah, ha, ha!!! Bah humbug to all those people who buy their gifts MONTHS before and brag about doing so.
6. Decorating the Christmas tree. We have a tradition of playing Christmas music (Rutter, Nat King Cole, another fab CD, Mannheim Steamroller), drinking hot cocoa and starting the season off with a bang!
5. Christmas parties! I love 'em.
4. Christmas parades. Starting with watching the Macy's parade on Thanksgiving Day, I love to go to parades. Always have.
3. Touring the city to look for the BEST and TACKIEST Christmas decorations of the city!
2. My children opening their gifts on Christmas morning!
1. Midnight service celebrating the arrival of Jesus on Earth, and the final candlelit singing of Silent Night!

OK, those are a few of my favorite things about Christmas, what about yours?

Christmas on Mooney...

2007-11-23T11:35:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is over and Christmas, at least for the shopping malls, has arrived! Here is my top ten list of Pet Peeves for the Christmas season:

10. Holiday traffic on Mooney Blvd. - you would think the mall had a drive through!
9. The worn out lights and decorations down "Candy Cane Lane." Is it just me, or are they really shabby?
8. No snow
7. Fog
6. Christmas card lists that keep crying out, "send me, send me!"
5. Finding a Christmas tree that was alive before Halloween ... last year!
4. Santa at the mall - somehow I just don't trust him, so I cry and run away everytime I see him! You too?
3. Reindeer antler headbands.
2. Constant obsession with how much the retail stores are selling and the doom and gloom predictions that go along with all the hand wringing!
1. Inane Christmas movies. "Fred Claus?" No I haven't seen and I am not going to!

OK, I've told you my pet peeves, what are yours???

Tomorrow? Top ten best things about Christmas!

Turkey...

2007-11-21T17:11:00.000-08:00

The miles are long, the landscape wide, separating me and my family of origin. It was not long ago that we drove to Colorado to be with my clan, crazy as they are, and it was something to be savored. We talked long hours about people and events, now long gone, that brought meaning to our lives. The funny stories of my grampa's really BAD driving habits. (One summer day years ago he nearly drove my sister, my gramma, me and himself into the Platte River while trying to turn onto a bridge in the mountains of Colorado). Scary then, HILARIOUS at the Thanksgiving Day reunion just a few years ago.

But the true joy of that Thanksgiving Reunion just two years ago now, took place just after Thanksgiving dinner was all cleaned up and put away. I have a very musical family, so my brother brought several guitars, mandolins and banjos. As the sun began to set, my brother Harold picked up a guitar and started playing the gospel song, "I'll Fly Away," I think, to which we all joined in. Hours it seemed went by, song after song, peppered with stories of life as it was, and the people who made it special. There were tears that night, partly because of the joy that had come to this scattered bunch of Hutsons, but partly in recognition that this moment would never return. It was one of the best holiday gatherings I have ever been part of. Laughter, song, tears. Does it get any better than that?

So eat, drink and be thankful for the person, perhaps no longer with you, who brought meaning to your life and years later made you laugh!

Have a laughter-filled, teary-eyed, Thanksgiving! It will be worth the miles!

Road signs...

2007-11-20T08:42:00.000-08:00

My eldest daughter recently took her driver's test for the first time. Yes, I say the first time because she is going to have to take it again ... in two weeks. Oh, let me just say, she is a great driver, passing everything on the road test except one critical thing. But I'll get to that in a moment.

She elected to take the test in the morning hours because the DMV would be "less busy." That turned out to be true, mostly, but it also meant sh had to miss the first hours of school, which probably wasn't my first choice for her. Oh welll, I acquiesced and she and I purposefully took the long way to the DMV hoping to get in some last minute practice.

Now my daughter is one of the smartest people on the planet, but she can tend to not pay enough attention to detail, especially when behind the wheel. She has the big picture down pretty well, but when it comes to driving she misses a few key indicators. An example of that happened as we were merrily making our way to the DMV. The lane we were driving in ended and so she just kind of meandered into the closest lane without the slightest hesitation, or the necessary signals. Being the calm, cool guy that I am, I said, "hey, hey," and began pointing feveriously toward the other lane, to which she gave no reaction at all, except to chide ME for not being clear about where she should go! It was, after all, my fault, because my gutteral attempts at communicating were not understood. (I actually think this is a common problem between men and women, men react by unttering the unintelligible to those who often find us alien and strange!) Anyway, after I apologized for not being clear I told her that she needed to follow the lane, or find another and signal appropriately.

Needless to say, this was NOT helpful as I was only "making her more nervous" prior to her test. Hmmmm.

Later that morning. Our van pulls up to the DMV with the examiner and my daughter safely inside, no dents visible and it appears she is still driving. Good signs, think I, but wait, they are talking and, well, it's not a smiley kind of I-passed-the-test talk, it's a serious kind of talk. They get out, walk toward the building. I wait, anxious, hoping for both good news and bad (I want her to drive, just fear letting go, LOL!) and then she catches my eye.

Now my daughter is a cool customer in public. No tears. Just a slight shake of the head that it's a "no go" for the license and my heart sinks, not for me, but for her. She has worked hard to maintain the GPA and other things necessary for her to get her license. The examiner, who seems to know me, says, "the lane we were in was a right turn only and, well, she went straight, in spite of the signs indicating she needed to go right and get on the highway. Other than that, she's a great driver!"

Aha, I knew it. I told ... wait a minute, that's not what I want to say right now. So I turn to her, give her a hug and say, "well, she did say you are a great driver, that's good!" And to then myself, half about her, but mostly about me, "but you didn't read the signs, which will get you in trouble everytime." Like father, like daughter, great driver but have to pay closer attention to details. Lessons learned and two weeks reprieve before I start worrying in earnest.

Curses and blessings...

2007-11-18T15:16:00.000-08:00

Hemmed in.

Promises are like that, you know, you have to keep them once they are made. That has been a hard lesson to learn at times, but I now, more than ever, see the need to do so. People depend on promises made. I do. Every day we sell ads to people who say, "yes, publish my ad and I will pay for that ad." Sounds simple enough, but if everyone, or any ONE of those people doesn't pay, well, it's a disaster for my company. So, I made a promise last week. To whom?

Well, it's a little complicated. Beginning two weeks ago tomorrow, we were on our final sales push for the December issue of our magazine, What's Up, and we needed A LOT more ads than we had sold up to that point. That whole week found me fretting about money, our sales staff seemngly unable to sell anything, and wondering if we were going to publish a magazine for December.

Pastor Sean. I awoke one week ago today to a feeling of, well, dread, and wondering if I had been somehow cursed in my business. Yes, I know, sounds a little superstitious, but I felt that way. It dawned on me that maybe this had something to do with tithing, which we had not been dong lately, and had a fleeting thought that Sean might just preach on tithing that morning. Lo, and behold, he did.

Cursed. When I don't tithe, the Bible says that I "rob God." Now that sounds kind of weird. How can you rob God? But in a sense it goes back to what I said about promises. Once made, people depend on those promises and some literally go hungry without those fulfilled promises. But the Bible also says, "Test me in this (tithing) and see if I will not give you a blessing you an unimaginable blessing!" (Slightly paraphrased by moi!) Well, I am a guy who loves a challenge, sometimes rashly so, so ...

At the end of that service, at Naz Visalia, I knew what I had to do. Sometime ago I had told a guy I know, who happens to have a ministry that I believe in, that I would give him $300. But due to life and circumstances I kept forgetting to give it to him. So I ran, almost literally to his house to drop off the check, hoping to be released from my self inflicted curse. If nothing else, my guilt was immediately assuaged because I had PROMISED him the money. But there is more.

The next morning, last Monday, I felt led by God to make another promise, that I would give 10%, from dollar one, of all new sales in the following 48 hours. Mind you, we had not made hardly any sales the week before, but I was now convinced that this promise would yield some result, even though our situation had not changed that much since the Monday prior. I ended up at lunch with another friend, Geoff Ludlow, of Full Sail Ministries, where I made the following statement: "Geoff, I told God I would give 10% of our ad sales to His work and I would like your ministry to benefit from that promise."

One of the most frustrating experiences for a sales person is to sell nothing in spite of significant effort. The week before had been so frustrating for Wynter that I feared she might give up altogether. The next week (last week) everything changed. We sold almost $4,000 in new ad sales in the 48 hours that elapsed from Monday to Weds afternoon. I called Geoff and told him I wanted to being him a check right away, to which he replied, "you don't need to do it today." Yes I did. It was my word. I took a check to him and fulfilled my promise. But it wasn't just me ... God did His part, too, for every sale last week was a miracle.

So I decided to make yet another promise. I told one of our advertisers, Janeen, of Janeen's Furniture Gallery, that I would pray for ALL of our ad customers, that their businesses would prosper, not simply so they would continue to buy advertising from us, but so they could continue to fulfill THEIR promises, which would help others fulfill their promises and, well, you get the picture. When everyone does their part, well, everything works out.

Now, I am not telling you this to make a big deal out of what I did, because I didn't give a lot. But I do want to encourage you to do dig down deep, ask God to give you a big dream, and bless someone in the process. MAKE A PROMISE. FULFILL that promise. Miraculous things will happen. Now there's a sermon for you!

Whimsy...

2007-11-16T20:46:00.000-08:00

Baskin Robbins was truly the beginning of a tremendous experience for me tonight. A big scoop of Pralines and Cream, pink spoon in hand, was all I needed for a Friday night in Visalia adventure. I thought I would just eat the ice cream in my truck, head home, and, well, do nothing. But I have a hard time doing nothing, sometimes, so I opted instead for a walk down Main Street knowing I would stumble onto someone I knew, or something new.

After passing by the usual night spots, Alejandra's, Little Italy, Café 225, and Fugazzi's, I heard something I had not heard on a Friday night in downtown ... music I actually thought I might enjoy listening to for a while! Yes, most of the time when I am downtown on Friday night, my ear scream to be taken from the sounds therein. Tonight was different, sort of serendipitous. It seemed more lyrical, no pun intended, then the usual versions of Proud Mary, of whatever, like poetry placed into REALLY great guitar playing and singing!

So I bought my Starbuck's-usual Tall Americano (a wonderful espresso drink made with two shots of espresso and hot water), partly to drink, partly for warmth and I moved back east on Main to the usual spot where music is rarely made in downtown. "Hmmm," says I to myself, "who are these musical strangers?" I darted in front of this three piece band, lest the 20 or so people who had gathered thought me an alien, rude at that, and stood listening to the wonderful sounds emanating from ten feet away. Tap, tap, on my shoulder and there stood Peter Ledford, an old pal from FPC. (For the uninitiated, FPC is short for FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH. Anyone wondering why it's an acronym?) Anyway, we had a great reunion, of sorts, until I saw Forrest Cavale, fabulous photog he, sitting there as well and, well, it was old home week.

Turns out Peter knew this tonal trio from somewhere down Riverside way and, well, they were here to play The Cellar Door ... tonight. What good fortune for me, as I might have missed there show altogether had I not happened on this outdoor symphony.

Anyway, for just three people, they put on an incredible show. Just the way I like my music, truthful, original, passionate. Nathan, I think that was his name, was the lead singer, guitarist, accompanied by a gent on the, hmmm, box (yes, I know that is not an instrument, but it was a box and he played it well, making great percussion sounds), who also later played the mando, and Nathan's wife, I think, singing wonderful harmonies to his original melodies.

Many people stopped for a moment, but so many more walked right on by. I found that sad, but not surprising. Busy no doubt, perhaps in a hurry to catch the latest movie, or whatever. But I, dear friends, I captured the moment, listening for a long while to a new sound, artistic, and whimsical. Hee, hee! I even put ten in the mando case ... not typical for me.

Ah, "The Art of Whimsy!" Lucky me!

Check them out at www.theartofwhimsy.com

Of mice and men...

2007-11-15T20:14:00.000-08:00

The week is coming to an end. It has been a wild ride for me and my team at What's Up Magazine, a ride that has led me to some interesting and uneasy thoughts.

1. Any new venture requires faith. Every month the creative Monkeys at Wu have to pull create a completely new reading experience. This has to be true for us as a staff if it is going to be true for you, our readers. Since we don't have a crystal ball to tell us what is going to be important in December, or any other month in the future, we make the best choices we can and go from there. But here is what I like about it. It always seems we discover some new person, event, or idea that ignites a spark in our collective imaginations. The spark, however, is not there at the beginning and, well, sometimes it doesn't come until the last day or two of the publsihing process. You probably could care less about all of that, but it is true for you, too, in other ways. Start something positive and I believe it will come to life in ways you did not expect. You must have faith that your creation will emerge from the lump of clay you begin with ... that's what makes it so much fun.

2. Cost. Every journey has a cost associated with getting to the destination. I am learning that we must be prepard to pay, and sometimes pay dearly, to reach our dreamed-of destination. The sacrifice, anxiety, is all part of getting where you want to go, or dare I say it, where you are SUPPOSED to go. Sacrifice, anxiety, frustration, the stumbling around in the dark, all of it lead to only two destinations: a downward spiral to defeat, or to strengthened resolve to try again, believe, trust, and ultimately, to win. Not winning in the way we normally think of it, but winning even in defeat and set back. Seeing opportunity in struggle and even impossible circumstances. That's where I was today. Seems like I canalways loook at the darkness, but today, ah, today, I decided to look for opportunity in the challenge. That is the true destination, true destiny. Overcoming my fatalistic, defeatist inner man, with the help and power of the Holy Spirit, THROUGH hard times. Yes, it is crazy to think that someone we cannot see is helping us, but GOD truly is. He took my hand this week and showed me how to turn almost certain defeat into undeniable possibilities and victories! A destination worth the price, I assure you!

3. Value. I told someone this week that we, as a company, must pray for our advertisers, that their businesses will prosper as a result, at least partly, because they place an ad in WU. That is part of the value I want to give to people who pay for ads, who believe in what we are doing. I want them to know we are praying, in faith, to see God give them an abundant harvest. Then, I am praying they will give some of that harvest away to those who need it (no, I am not talking about me, or my company). Then, the world will be an entirely different place.

Today I was a man! Woooohoooo (squeek, squeek!) LOL

Tired...

2007-11-14T22:34:00.000-08:00

Finished this day with a bang! My team crossed the finish line on December's edition of WU and, whew, I am worn out. So, I am not going to write anything else, so have a terrific night! Thanks for reading!

Four leaf clovers...

2007-11-13T20:18:00.000-08:00

My grandpa Hutson used to sing a song, half to me, half to himself, that epitomized his outlook on life.

"I'm looking over a four-leaf clover
That I overlooked before.
One leaf is sunshine, the second is rain,
Third is the roses that grow in the lane.
No need explaining, the one remaining
Is somebody I adore.
I'm looking over a four-leaf clover
That I overlooked before."

I had one of those days again on Friday where everything looked a little bleak. But toward the end of the day the sun began to shine again and, well, had Irish eyes a smilin'! What made the change? Friends. People who know me just came appeared back into my life and gave me a much needed boost. And these friends, relatively new ones I might add, gave me a gift that is priceless in the scheme of life ... another new friend! My friend Mike, introduced me to a man clearly familiar with four leaf clovers, Tex Whitson. You'll read more about Tex in magazines to come, but let's just say that Tex has been blessed. Some would call it lucky, even he would say that sometimes, but he also recognizes it as blessing. What does Tex do?

Well, he's more or less, hmmmm, welll, not sure. Let's say he places his hand on certain things and they get done. Like what? Well, he and a fellow named Benny Binion created a small little event called the "World Series of Poker," in the early 1970's, an event that now draws nearly 6,000 contestants each year. But I digress, because Tex is really about a lot more than poker, or Las Vegas. He's kind of an aggregator, someone who puts divergent people and ideas together to make something new, different. He's also one of the most connected people on the planet. He writes music, country music and knows the giants in that field. Wille Nelson, Larry Bastian, Garth and many, many, more. But he's done a lot for his current home town of Las Vegas, too.

He was at least partially responsible for bringing the NFR, National Finals Rodeo, to Las Vegas from Oklahoma City. Now if that seems strange, well, think abouth how many more hotel rooms there are in Vegas than there are in OKC! But I would have never figured that one out. But he and Benny Binion did.

Anyway, the two hours I spent with Tex Whitson was a gift. Was it luck, no, not really. I was blessed.

"I'm lookin' over a four leaf clover..."

Old men and passing cars...

2007-11-08T17:49:00.000-08:00

So there I sit in my pick up at the corner of Locust and Main Street, turning right, waiting for the light to turn green. An old man, slightly disheveled, is in the cross walk making his way across the street. I look at him, partly because he looked familiar in an unfamiliar way, and as I do, he catches my eye, waves like he knows me and approaches my truck. I chuckle slightly, thinking he is going to ask me for money or directions, or both, and roll down my electric windows.

"Hi," says the old guy, " You going to Caldwell?"

Uh-oh, how did he know I was going to Caldwell. My "pay attention flag" goes up and I blurt out, "yep, I sure am."

"Give me a ride?" He inquires.

Before I know it, this short, quite old man, looking a little like my own grandad (who is now long gone) is trying to climb, and I do mean CLIMB into my pick up while all of Visalia is backed up behind me! As he climbs in I have a typically 2007 thought when you have a stranger in your car. What if he pulls a gun on me? I laugh, at least on the inside, because this guy is obviously harmless.

"How do you close this door?" He says as the door stays maddeningly open.

"Try the big handle there," I reply, hoping for this to be shut soon. I am not a big one for public lolly-gaggin'.

Finally, with immense effort, the door is shut. And here we are. He, me, us, and I am wondering if this is a mistake. Then the thought comes to mind,"be careful, for we sometimes entertain angels unaware." OK, keep paying attention.

"What's your name?" I hear myself ask.

He tells me. Can't remember the name now, but ...

"My cousin was the great Hank Greenburg, you know him?"

"No, tell me."'

He tells me. I still have no idea who Hank Greenburg is, played baseball for somebody, but it is all very interesting.

"Where are you going?"

Kimball Court, the apartments there. Just go down Court to Caldwell, it'll be there."

So I drive and this guy tells me his life story in 7 minutes flat. We find Kimball Court. Just as I am about to let him out, my friend Dee calls and I ask him to hang on so I can get Mr. Greenburg out without incident. Dee hears the whole thing and, after my passenger has safely exited the car, say, "is that the old guy that lives down off of Cladwell and Court. Mouth agape, I say, "yeeees?" I reply.

Dee continues, "He got me for a ride two weeks ago. Did he tell you that his cousin was Hank Greenburg? And that he lived all his life in Tulare?"

I am in a full-fledged laugh now. Too weird, fun and, well, I am kind of glad the old bird flagged me down.

I was entertained. Angels anyone?

Casting...

2007-11-07T19:44:00.000-08:00

I heard just this evening that we have one new member of the Visalia City Council, Amy Shuklian. Congratulations, Amy! Bob Link has been reelected to serve another term, as well, but allow me to talk to Amy for just one minute.

First of all, I admire anyone who runs for our our local city council. It is a job without perks, very little in the way of pay and, I am sure, has its share of aggravation from people who don't agree with whatever position you happen to take. Those who take on this onerous task do so in what I believe was the spirit of our founding fathers, serving for love of community, not wealth, or a generous retirement package.

Still, I would like to see our council take on these initiatives:

Continue to support events that raise the profile of our great community. Whether a concert, conference, or fiesta, we need excuses to get out of our homes and meet with people who have similar interests.

Don't hire so many outside consultants to tell the arts community what they need to do to be effective. What they (we) need to do is do more of what we are doing, promote it better and help others uncover the riches that exist here. In a word, listen.

Don't take yourself too seriously. Amy, you are perfect for this job because you are an artist, an expert in the fine art of comedy and because you love this place! My concern is that you will be tempted to slow down growth, without realizing the implications of a slow, or no growth policy on jobs and businesses. I believe we should have the so-called, "smart growth" approach, to be sure, just don't get carried away.

Disclaimer: I am not a policy wonk of any kind, just a guy who needs to have an audience for his life and business, so keep that in mind.

Finally, whenever the going gets rough, Amy, remember the words of old Winston himself when he said, "Never give in — never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense."

Free food...

2007-11-06T19:13:00.000-08:00

What would it be like to have a HUGE feast, arrayed with the World's finest dishes, and advertise it with the headline, FREE FOOD? Would anyone believe you? Would they come and join you at the table? If so, who would do so?

I asked myself these questions today after my friend, Geoff Ludlow, came in to see me about his all-you-can-eat Crab feast this Saturday (to buy tickets go to www.gorillatix.com). He shared with me that they had sold about 50 tickets for the event, but would like to have at least 100 people there. Orioginally they had hoped to host up to 400, but they can't do that now because the foods already been ordered. Still, I wondered. How do you get a large group of people to want to eat great food?

Now let me be clear, the Crab Feed this Saturday is not free and you must buy a ticket to the event to be admitted. However, as I considered the implications of my question, I was reminded of a quote by, well, some famous touring musician who said, "they pay me travel, I play for free." Hmmmm, why do we pay to do some things, see a concert, game, whatever, but struggle to support causes good and great because they don't fit into our lifestyle? I think part of the reason is convenience, part is simply not having enough time.

Which brings me back to crabs, specifically, the Crab Feed this Saturday night at Neighborhood Church. I am taking my family, well, almost. I am taking my two girls and myself to this great event (my wife is going to Florida for the week, so she can have all the seafood she wants) even though both my kids have, ummm, certain reservations about seafood in general, crab in particular.

But we WILL be going and they WILL be eating crab ... for free! Because, like that old musician I have a twist on this event, "I'm paying to support my friends and their ministry, but I eat crab for FREE!"

Fishing anyone?

Grand opening...

2007-11-04T17:28:00.000-08:00

I took a walk on this beautiful afternoon, down the street, about 2 miles from my house, to a brand new Lowes store that opened yesterday. I have to say of all the big box stores of its type, Lowes is my favorite, lavishing the shopper with a large array of fixer-upper goods from floor to extremely high ceiling. I had been watching the building rise from the loamy soil of Tulare County these past few months with much anticipation. For some reason, weirdly enough, I could not wait to walk from my house to the store. Not sure why. Hmm, well, I do like new buildings, so that might be one reason, and I LOVE to be outside on balmy November days like the one just passing. So today was the day to strap on my walking shoes and head down Riggin Road, sun to my 6, to check out our new retail neighbor to the east.

I settled into an easy amble, like a horse walking to the barn, but not urgently so. The coolish-warm air was drawn easily into my lungs, relaxing a day's worth of thoughts on the vissisitudes of life! Turning onto Riggin, which, for the uninitiated, is half country road, half suburban lane. Houses to my south, farmland immediately to my north and cars, not too many, whooshing past me just inches from my joyous gait!

But something was not right. I felt I needed to talk ... to someone. I thought about calling my brother in Colorado, or my dad, who probably needed company, too, but neither call seemed right. So I dialed up God and this is the conversation that ensued. Well, kind of:

Me: Nice day, thanks!

God: No problem, I am enjoying it, too.

Me: I'm looking forward to seeing the new store. I like new things.

God: Me, too. You know, that's why I made you.

Me: Wait, I am not new, I've been around the block a few times and, well, a few not so good blocks.

God: Yeah, I know, but that's why I made this day. Those blocks you mention, well, they are part of what's called "the past," which means it's over. Do you know what I mean?

Me: Maybe.

God: Let me ask you a question. Why do you like "Grand Openings?"

Me: Hmm, I, uh, like grand openings because, ummmm, all the old stuff is gone and something new has appeared in its place.

God: Aha! What difference does that make?

Me: Ummmm, no idea.

God: Just like Lowes, this day is brand new for you, no junk from yesterday.

Me: AHA! But what about the 10% discount?

God: No discount, I paid full price.

Time passes, I arrive at Lowes and ask a clerk, "Christmas trees?" "Aisle 12, sir."

Happy New Year!

Cowhide...

2007-11-03T17:04:00.000-07:00

Well, the mighty Redwood Rangers had a good game last night and won the storied "Cowhide" game at Giant Stadium, or whatever it is now called. I am happy for the Rangers partly because my two kids attend high school there, but also because this has been a tough year for Redwood off and on the field!

There was the loss to El D a few weeks ago, devastating in so many ways, but prior to that in the early days of the school year, gang activity was happening at an alarming rate. Why Redwood? Not sure of all the reasons and this blog is not going to be a social commentary on gangs, except to say that the gang problem is bigger than any of us realize. My point is the Rangers needed a win, both to end the season on an up note, but also to reassure our community that no matter the problems coming back is possible.

I think about "come backs" a lot. Some of the best known comeback artists of all time are also personal and national heroes. There was George Washington and his rag tag independence army. Out gunned, out manned, and out classed in every sense except in commitment, they came back and defeated the British and gave us independence. Abe Lincoln is surely another. Failed at business a few times, lost EVERY election he ever ran in, that is, except one. That one race took him to the Presidency of the United States and a history making crusade against slavery. I like Lincoln. Tall, dark, not so handsome, but what he had was a stubborn unwillingness to be defeated. I want to be like that, stubborn, in a good way!

This morning, after contemplating my own struggles, I was ready to give up on, hmmm, hope. It was once said that hope exists whenever blood pumps in your heart and your lungs fill with air. I like that. Hope, what is it and why do we lose it? No idea really, seems to come from somewhere alien, otherworldly, especially when it seems that THIS world is all despair.

I personified despair today and I don't like it when that happens. My heart still beats, my lungs fill up with air, thoughts race in my brain, but I can't see the life in me, or around me. Seems the world is like that, too. Maybe that's part of the gang problem, or least part of it.

Nah, I don't know anything about the gang problem, so forget I even went there. What I do know is, when you get back in the game, like Redwood did last night, well, hope has a way of showing up. Heck, you still may lose, but boy when it's all said and done, inside you know one thing ... quitters never win and winners never quit.

Rah, rah, rah, GO, ABE!

Jet wash...

2007-11-01T19:40:00.000-07:00

What a day. Arise at 3 AM, shower, eat a few Honey Nut Cheerios (yummy!), head out the door, 3:27 AM! Drive and drive and drive, 5 and 1/2 hours north to the City by the Bay. Can you believe it? That drive should take no longer than 3 hours, 45 minutes, but the TRAFFIC was horrific. I left so early that I thought I would avoid most of the crazy commuters, but, well, you see, I, umm, how do I say this, I drank too much coffee (understandably so, some would say) and I had to PEE twice in the same hour. Now I am older than I once was, but NOT that old. Ok, ok, too much information, I know. But there was a reason I said that, hmmm, oh yeah, 15 minutes can make a huge difference in when driving to SF.

580. I have driven to San Fran many times, often to catch an airplane out of good old SFO, and usually in the morning. But it was NEVER this bad. I could make it, in my lead-footed days, in 3 hours and 30 minutes. Yes, it depended on traffic, but I always left early enough to get in before all the craziness began. But FIVE AND A HALF HOURS? No wonder I had to go to the bathroom so many times, I am surprised my children weren't all grown and married, like some weird, urban, traffic-congested Rip Van Winkle story. (Can you see me, asleep in my "ancient" Dodge pick up, drooling out the right side of my mouth, rotted Starbuck's cup disintegrating in my hand...SLAP, SLAP, "wake up, sir," says the space aged CHP, as he writes me a ticket for vagrancy!). What a mess. Traffic, that's one reason to LOVE Visalia.

Our idea of a traffic jam is Mooney Blvd, southbound between Walnut and Whitendale during the Christmas shopping season. But we have no clue, really, how bad it can get...

So I get to my meeting, ONE HOUR LATE, having called they are suspiciously gracious, but welcome me into the room anyway. I called ahead to tell them my tale of traffic constipation, I mean conflagration, oops, congestion, so they are thinking I at least had a passable lullaby, I mean alibi. Still, with my usual aplomb, I awkwardly introduce myself to the five people in the room and notice immediately they all look so serious, pale and, well, with Halloween just behind us, i thought I landed in some strange time warp, sorta like old Rip, but for aged Trick-or-Treater's like myself.

Meeting ends, we shake hands, I walk out wondering if the 5 and 1/2 hour drive was worth the trouble until ... I walk out the door of the Westin Hotel and see a glorious blue sky before me. Add to that a perfect, I mean crystal clear view of the runways to San Fran's airport and I am in dreamers heaven! Oh lookie, there's a path along the bay which will only enhance my view of the sky, the planes and, ewwwww, never mind.

So I begin what will be a 45 minute stroll on the bay side pathway just south of the airport. Planes by the dozens queue up, rev their engines, wait their turn then BLAST skyward for unknown destinations. A 747 lines up on 280, beginning what will be some journey long into foreign lands and I wonder, would I like to be going wherever they are? Asia? Not so much. Not a fan of squid, and other things they call food. Europe? Yes, anywhere in Europe would suit me. Venice, Paris, Rome, Vienna, are all on my list. I breath in, catch the faint scent of burnt jet fuel and let it wash over my mind like sleep to old Van Winkle himself.

300 pounds...

2007-10-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to take over the world? Not in a bad sense, like, say, Attila the Hun, but in a good sense, like, ummmmm, Google. (Who wouldn't love a stock price at $800?) I think about it all the time. I think about ways to create the next big TAKEOVERTHEWORLD thing ALL THE TIME!

Long before Google was the 800,000 pound gorilla (fits nicely, eh?) , I was planning on being the online GARAGE SALE KING. I had this idea that build a better garage sale and people will beat a path to your $20 lawn mower. GARAGESALING.COM was going to be the biggest thing since Pat Boone and penny loafers. But alas, t'was not to be.

You see, in order to become the NBT, you really have a lot of work to do to get there and you must overcome lots of problems and obstacles. Not only that, but you also must KNOW something about the product, or service you are intending to offer. Now most of you don't know me, so I'll tell you, I can't STAND garage sales. Imagine that. A garage sale king who starts sneezing if he gets within 100 yards of a garage sale. Yes, I am allergic to old suitcases, lava lamps and white elephants of all shapes and sizes! One time I broke out in hives after seeing just a garage sale AD in our local newspaper. My doctor prescribed bed rest and plenty of non-allergenic milk shakes. The hive abated.

Still, I had the idea that I could make enough money to get treatments for this allergy, so I didn't think it would be an issue. But I had to get there, to the money that is and, well, as in all things it ain't that easy! (Duh. Please don't pepper me with insults about my grammer in that last sentence, I know I didn't use "ain't, propurly!) The point is, if you don't love what you're doing, well, you might do it and the money might come, but you will probably be miserable. And then, 1 year later you may try to kill yourself by eating 300 pounds of Cheetos in one sitting. Not a pretty way to die, all orange and everything.

For me, however, this thought hit me one day ... "I love to put on events, so, da-uh, hey, maybe I should think about doing sumpthin that involves events. Duh, I could maybe even pubwish a magazine!

Eureka! The opportunity of a lifetime ... I would become the EVENTS KING! It looked so easy, so perfect, so sensible, so me. So, in I jump with characteristic lack of caution, to a sea of new opportunity and joy and, alas, problems, trials and travails. "Wow, this is really harder than it looks," I said not long ago. DINK...light goes on and, aha, perhaps everything has pros and cons to it! YES, maybe life is just full of problems no matter what you do! WOW, maybe that's the next big idea. Being willing to overcome any obstacle is THE ONLY KEY TO SUCCESS! Yes, I finally figured it out. what a relief.

Hmmm, maybe I could even go back to garagesaling.

Nah, I don't think so. I really do like events. Besides, I forgot the Cheetos.

Distinguishing marks...

2007-10-29T16:50:00.000-07:00

I had to laugh.

"Do you know you look like, um, that actor," the waitress asked. "what's his name?"

"Billy Bob Thornton," I nicely barked back.

"YES! THAT'S IT! I knew it, you look just like him. Have you ever thought of..."

"No, I have never thought of being his stunt double."

Shaking her head, she walked away, disappointed that I wasn't too thrilled to look like someone else, especially this particular celebrity.

I am the opposite of BBT. I have no tatoos, I have NEVER been married to Angelina Jolie (can't say I would want to be. Lucky for Brad, eh?) and I would never make ANY of the movies he has been a part of, well, almost. I really enjoyed "Astronaut Farmer," but that is beside the point. I don't want to BE Billy Bob Thornton, but some people see me and assume that either I am him, or I want to be him.

Do you look like someone famous? Do you look like someone infamous. Take comfort in that you don't look like someone on the Post Office bulletin board...that's positive.

If we see clean and shiny outside we assume the rest is the same. Look like a celeb, well, people treat you that way. Go out in shabby clothes, unshaven, malodorous and well, it will be a whole new world. OK, it's not SO bad being mistaken for BBT after all. But maybe I should look a little closer next time I see someone who, on first impression, makes me think of "The Fugitive" before he was proven innocent.

Or better yet, next time you see me, on the street and at my worst, just assume I am a malodorous, unshaven, celebrity IN COGNITO!

And watch out for the Paparazzi!

A day of rest...

2007-10-28T20:19:00.000-07:00

What is so hard about taking the day off on Sunday? Is it not the "Day of Rest?" Yet, I find it incredibly difficult to keep my mind on resting when there is much to be done. Tonight, for example, I am already on to the coming week. Checking off the tasks that need to be completed, calculating the amount of money needed for certain projects (I am terribly inept at such things), wondering how I will fill the hours that will come inevitably.

This week I travel to San Francisco, I need to book a flight to Wash., D.C. (for a late November business trip), post a BIG web programming project for the WU web site, and generally try to sustain the business, day in, day out. It's a complex process that brings many rewards, lots of challenges and, sometimes, even joy. Rest? Nah. Unless ...

If rest is simply a function of NOT being at work, well, I do that on a regular basis, everyday as a matter of fact. But rest is not just that, it is more, something of a state of mind. I have more trouble getting that right. I think, maybe, if I could get my arms around this "rest as a state of mind" thingy, I might just get more out of the experience of being in business.

What if, I made decisions based not on fear, but faith. Faith in others, faith in myself, faith in, yes, I'll say it, God, faith even in faith, maybe that would be the beginning of rest. My Sunday. Nah, Couldn't be that simple, could it?

And what if I greeted each task with the same jocular atttitude I have when I visit my hilarious Canadian friend, Jeremy, knowing that at the end of our visit many serious subjects would be discussed with a wink and not a few laughs. Profound, still serious, but infinitely easier to swallow. Yes, that might be rest, too.

Finally, I should learn another lesson from Maggie, my dog (read yesterday's post), when she chases her ball in our back yard. I have never seen a faster, more strenuous chase, more work as it were, as she leaps with joy to each new challenge: each oops-the-ball-rolled-into-that-big-old-bush moment turns into pure elation.

Rest. Faith, humor and joy, now that is something I can work with.

To the dog...

2007-10-27T21:52:00.000-07:00

I leaned back the driver's seat in our van and tried, the best I could to relax. It wasn't that hard. It was just two hours ago, Saturday evening, outside the mall ... in Fresno. I commanded each muscle to relax, hoping to induce much needed rest. Not rest like you need at the end of a long day at work, but rest that comes with maybe a little too much time at the shopping mall, I mean, too much time with the PEOPLE at the mall.

Not that I had that much time even in the mall, but they seemed to take their toll on me today. There was the little old lady, sweet as can be, who could not figure out how to cross a somewhat busy mall intersection, the hyper-crowded FOREVER 21 store, filled with a feeding frenzy of teenaged girls looking for the perfect top, all for under $10 and the 45 minute wait for a table, NOT to mention the wait for dinner, at a fine restaurant in the MALL.

So, back to the leaned seat. The rain was gently falling as I drifted into a state somewhere between Kansas and REM. My breathing eased just a little and, well, it was warm and cozy in my little Toyota van. Nodding slightly, a warm, WET NOSE BUMPED MY EAR! MAGGIE! Sit down, I cried, to our bus-look-alike dog, as I jerked my head away from her nose. (Don't even ask me why we had our dog along for this trip to the mall!) Being the dog she is, Maggie responded not by sitting (not sure her English is that good frankly!), but by reasserting her nose into MY SPACE. I laughed. She seemed to laugh, too, wait, that couldn't be a laugh, could it? A smile? Well, a little hard to tell, what with no lips and all, but I think she smiled, a wry, derisive laugh, as if to say, I know you better than you know yourself, Mister. I am aware you cannot stand to be licked by dogs because you think they're D-I-R-T-Y! Yes, I KNOW I use my tongue to clean EVERYTHING, but hey, I luv ya, I am wanna show it, that's what I DO!

The smile, or whatever it was, totally disarmed me. Forgetting my self indulgent paranoia, I smiled back, warmed by a nose, her lipless smile and this thought: Give what you can no matter how humble for someone may REALLY need it, no matter how loud they bark back.

Happy Sunday!

Irish Brews...

2007-10-26T17:11:00.000-07:00

Whew. The smoke red sun is beginning to set on my old blog home and my thoughts are turning to the weekend. There have been many highs and a few lows to this week, at least for me and perhaps for you, too.

I've already written about my bad days, so we will not go there again. Isn't it true that the good in a day makes the day seem to go faster? When I am having a terrible day, time crawls, minute by minute, hour by insufferable hour, mercifully ending in a nice long sleep. The good days fly, soaring on wings of joy, as if in possession of this little secret: this will end soon, get as much out of it as you can! Today was just such a day. Well, sort of...

It started out ok, but just ok. Then it took a little dip at about 10 AM, in my post green tea thoughts about how to create, discover, force, whatever, positive cash flow, read profit! "Impossible," the old grump said inside my head, "only really lucky people, Leprechauns and the like, stumble into PCF!" Well, having never seen one of those green clad, red-bearded folk of Irish lore, I rebelled at the thought. Then, with a wink of an Irish eye, I said to meself, but 'tis my lucky day today, because I am 1/132,000 Irish and a rainbow exist somewhere nearby...I can feel it in my Erin go Braugh.

Screeech! What was that? Was I talking to meself, I mean, myself, with an Irish accent? As I daubed my head with a green kerchief, a wee little voice whispered ever so clearly into my wee little ear, pssssspspsspspsssshshspssshsppsss. My eyes lit up, and jumping, I clicked my heels and headed out the door to find the pot-o-gold at the end of my rainbow. Shure enough, not 10 miles out of town I found it ... a wee little office with a grand ole lad who needed the help of me magazine and, as it turned out was willing to pay for it! EUREKA!!!!!!!!

Aye, the luck of the Irish is real, but only if you get off your lazy derriere! Or, as a wise man once opined, "If it's gonna be, it's up to me."

What a week end!

Tis the season...

2007-10-25T17:05:00.000-07:00

Only two more weeks until the final kick off for high school football! In Visalia, we have two rivalries with two distinct names attached to them. There is the storied "Cowhide" game, between Redwood High and Mt. Whitney and the "Battle for the Saddle," a match up between Golden West High and El Diamante.

OK, full disclosure again ... I am not a football fan whatsoever, but I do understand the game and I also understand its allure. Start with a marching band, sqweeking it's way through a rendition of Star Wars, add a squad of cheerleaders, an over zealous crowd of parents and grandparents and, voila, you already have the makings of quite an event. But there is more! The chill in the air allows people to get a little closer to one another, and then, at just the right moment, the teams burst onto the playing field, energized by the roar of the crowd. And everyone has their favorite player. Some actually play, others sit on the bench, waiting for their moment, still others are participating spectators, creating a show completely separate from anything taking place in the green 100 yards. But they all are part of the game.

High school football renews my belief in the power of events to make us better. We cheer for others, so often difficult in our day to day, hoping THEY will run the play, reaching the goal, or preventing said same, depending on which side you are cheering. It isn't about me, but about "the team." HOW THRILLING it is to cheer for someone else? Is it possible that we could take this, well, attitude and apply it elsewhere?

Hmmmmmm. In my dreams the announcer says, "there's Susie Smith, All Star Procastinator, but look, she's about to do her homework. She lifts her pen and.....wait......wait.....YES, YES, YES!!!!!! She did it, she did one problem for Geometry! Woooooooooohooooooooo!" Parents go wild, band plays, cheerleaders do a HUGE Rah, Rah, Rah, Susie does a victory dance on her math book!

Or, "Dad has not been playing very well this season. He's been warming the bench when it comes to fixing the sink. Hold on, something is happening, Dad is getting up, he has a wrench in his hand, oh, my, he's looking at the faucet and, no, he is not drinking from it, he is going to fix it! Oh my GOODNESS, I CAN'T BELIEVE MY EYES! The leak has been fixed!!!!!! Band plays, cheers are said by one and all, WIFE gives him a big KISS!

How would our lives change if we lived every day just a little bit like that? I don't know, the results might surprise you. Try it. Let me know what happens. Also, anybody know where I can find a marching band for hire?

The way it happens...

2007-10-25T16:43:00.001-07:00

Am I crazy, or is it true that the best things in life are unplanned? I arose this morning with a bad case of the woe-is-me-not-enough-business-boo-hoo-club thing! After any big event, I always go through a period of discouragement, I call it PETSS, "post-event-traumatic-stress-symposium!" Yes, I said "symposium," because I don't want anyone to call, or write me about making fun of a very real and serious condition that has a similar name. It's mostly, and I do mean mostly, a joke. However, anyone who has put together a big event will tell you that the last weeks prior to said event are so packed with stuff to do that after it is over you feel like your life is a great big ZERO. Nothing to do, no one cares, it's all downhill from here!So this morning, there I am, in the WIMNEBBHC (see above) and I am thinking, what am I going to do? I NEED another event ... soon! It's not simply a matter of addiction to work, even though it is that, too, but it's a matter of business survival for me. I say prayer. Not a prayer like you might expect, LONG face, self righteous, self important, but more like I imagine most people pray: HELP! I NEED an event or I am going to DIE. Which is, of course, a silly thing to think, but doesn't everyone pray that way? Irrationally. Ok, well I pray that way, even if you don't. I go to work. Have an appointment at 8:30 this morning with a friend and colleague who helped me put together a concert with Bill Cosby last March. Donnie and I start talking, reminiscing really about the Cosby event and BAM, I am talking about another event involving Cosby and his new book. Three hours later, after 4 impromptu, coincidental meetings, it all starts coming together. I email Cosby's agent and, well, no definitive answer yet, but it all begins again! Prayer answered. Aha! No more WIMNEBBHC, now I'm strutting down the street like I had something to do with all of these seemingly unrelated meetings. How soon I forget. Credit where credit is due. God 1, me, well, I get 1 too, because I at least had the good sense to say, HELP, and he cares enough to want to encourage me! Couldn't have planned it better myself.

Normal, everyday life...

2007-10-25T16:42:00.002-07:00

Dinner. I folded my burrito neatly trying keep the juices in the tortilla, all the while thinking about things other than the burrito. My two daughters were there, as was my wife, but strangely, I wasn't. I mean, yes, I was there physically, but my mind was focused on a fire raging in southern California, not a mile or two from a house owned by my niece. We had just been to her house last Friday to visit my sister, her mom, who was visiting from Maryland. Dragged from my reverie by a little disagreement at the table, I was surprised by my reaction. Life was normal. Nothing important, catastrophic, or even exciting was going on, just dinner. However, just a few miles south of our serene dinner table, my sister was packing the car, getting prepared, just in case the wild fires of 2007 intruded into their space. I had a hard time shaking images so ably shown on CNN; firefighters valiantly protecting a home, people cooling their heels in Qualcomm Stadium, airplanes dumping thousands of gallons on seemingly unquenchable flames. A hard time not seeing my sister's face in the sea of displaced home owners in SO Cal. Life was normal, everyday for us. Abnormal, once-in-a-lifetime-you-hope-never-happens for ten of thousands of our fellow Californians. That's life, it seems. Barely paying attention, life goes on in a seemingly endless parade of meetings, games, concerts, TV shows, holidays, birthdays and meals, until something not-so-everyday blows into our lives stealing our serene normalness and wake us from our dream. In an instant, I looked up and was immediately engaged by the people, my people eating burritos and fruit salad. At tha moment, some other, more favorable wind blew into my thoughts, bidding me to take in the joy of our basic, normal meal, with the the everyday people you love. Bon Appetit!

Sign Posts...

2007-10-25T16:42:00.001-07:00

As I drove south on Mooney Blvd today, an unfamiliar road sign appeared out my window. An arrow pointing west, the sign indicated that highway 99, a major north south route in Central California, could be found just 4 miles from that spot. The reason it had remained hidden in my many trips down Mooney was a large tree, somewhat overgrown, hid it from the view of almost anyone driving on the boulevard, even those who needed the information the most. I was not looking for highway 99, but I made note of it and drove the direction I had already set for myself.I said good bye to an employee and friend today. No, this person did not die, he simply moved on to a better job with another company. Now I have known Robert for several years and we have worked together at two different organizations, but it was different today, something like the sign I had never seen before. This event, was not unlike that old tree standing between me and the sign post. Often, the one route I need to know about, the one activity I really need to focus on, the one friendship I need to build is, well, hidden, by the branches, leaves and other debris of life. I suppose that sometime ago I imagined that someday Robert would find a job more to his liking, or with better benefits, or pay, but I didn't see it coming, at least this quickly. I was simply driving down the boulevard and, BAM, there was a sign in the road, indicating a new direction for my friend and colleague. So here we are...desk cleaned out, waiting for a new era to develop not only in his life, but also in the life of this little company, since he has taken a different route. Fair enough. He needed to follow that route. But I, well, I am moving straight ahead and, just as I did today, even though the sign was noted, my course was already set. It strikes me that signs are either extremely and urgently important, or ignored altogether, depending on our circumstances. Today it was a little of both.Happy travels, Robert, perhaps we will work together again one day! If not, watch the signs, they always point to something important, we just don't always see them.

On the Weekend!

2007-10-25T16:41:00.002-07:00

Tomorrow, Sunday, October 21, 2007, the church we attend (my family, that is) will celebrate 75 years of ministry in Visalia, CA. That is a lot of events. Yes, churches are in the event business. Now before you take me to task over that one, I understand the mission of a church, any church is NOT to do events, but to use events to communicate their message to as many people as possible and the success of a church may depend on how well they produce these public events. Music. The universal language. Churches who have great music leaders and up-to-date musical events are often among the fastest growing in any community. I know of churches who do music very well and therefore attract lots of people with their music events. Not all of these churches are into contemporary worship, in fact, there are some amazing churches who attract people with fantastic classical music. A big church outside of Phoenix brings in the Phoenix Symphony for special concerts, attracting hundreds of potential new members through these special concerts! I love it. People want to be with people, enjoying some mutually understood activity in a variety of settings. Isn't that what we all want? When you go out with your husband, wife, or significant other (PC term to be sure!) what makes you happy? A Coldplay concert? Swing dancing? Watching the latest movie? Why do we love to attend group events? Some would suggest that one day the virtual world of computer generated activities will make public events all but obsolete. I beg to differ, simply because we NEED each other. I know, you don't want to admit that any more than I do, but it's true. You need that bozo in the cubicle next to you, not because he has something you want, but simply because it makes us more human when we interact. We share laughter, heartache, life, as we sing, dance and mill around in churches that often bear no resemblance to traditional spired buildings. So take your S.O. to the latest show and, when you feel joy, or whatever, look up to the heavens and thank God (seriously) that you were there!

While the Monkey's away...

2007-10-25T16:41:00.001-07:00

... the chimps will play!Actually, this chimp is hard at work, digging up events from all around the Central Valley for you folks! (I've found a few I think you're gonna like.) The Big Monkey Man asked me to post a blog in his absense, but being the shy chimp I am, I'm at a lost as to what to say! So here it is:Your Blog For the Day.Pathetic, I know.I hope you're all headed out to a fabulous event! I know I am (Cellar Door, here I come).Happy Friday,Chimpette

What's Up with Christmas?

2007-10-25T16:40:00.000-07:00

OK, I have looked all morning at potential events for the December issue of WU. I admit it has been frustrating, in part because there are no BIG events locally, and the small to medium events often aren't easy to find. So I put my event slueth, Rachel, on the scent and she is hard at work to find something really cool for December. Let me, or Rachel know if you have a great story idea. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeez!All this talk of Christmas though had me thinking about family, my family. Scattered far and wide, we are a geographically challenged family, with months, or years in between visits. This has proved both a blessing and a bit of a curse. My dad, 77 years old, is now starting to see some tubulent weather in regard to his health and well being, so much so that I feel compelled to travel to see him next week. But doggone it, there is SO much to do that I hardly have time. Time. Hmmm. As a producer of events I live by the calendar. Day in, day out, it all seems to go on forever. But it isn't going to go on forever and I am feeling it. I guess everyone is a producer of events of one kind or another. Your first breath was an event, as was mine. We mark time with events. Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations are all events that we mostly celebrate, often forgetting to savor each one, for they do not come around again. Celebration! I've got it!!!! I am going to go see my dad, not to say good bye, hrrrumph, but to celebrate our first hello 48 years ago and all the hilarious times we shared since! Joy. Laughter. It was all there and, in my heart and mind will be there anew when I see him next week. This could be my best event...EVER!WooooooooHoooooooo!

Gamers, Geeks, Sunlight and why it matters...

2007-10-25T16:39:00.001-07:00

The Monkey interviewed promoter and event producer, Peter Rosenberry, about his upcoming event, Guitar Hero 2 at the Fox Theater. At the risk of being accused of shameless self promotion and full disclosure, let me declare that yes we are shameless self promoter! Rosenberry was featured in the October issue of What's Up! With that in mind, the big Ape asked him some serious questions about his event and the implications of its outcome.M: What is Guitar Hero 2 and why would a man of your obvious intellectualresources want any part of it?!R: Ever since I was a child I had a dream - a vision - that one day there would be a way for those who could not play a real guitar to save their lives, to be able to feel like a rock star. And then along came RedOctane, who made that dream a reality when they created the Guitar Hero series. They have made my life, and the lives of countless other virtual guitarists, complete.M: Is the typical user profile of GH 2, from 8 to 10 years of age, or a bithigher, say 11?R: Although many of our fans are certainly sporting ages in the single digits, teenagers really rule the roost on this game. Haven't you ever seen the 15-year-old, brow furrowed in concentration, fingers twitching on the strummer, nailing 100% "Jordan" scores on the kiosks at Best Buy or GameStop? How can you stand against that level of skill? Although I will say that GH2 is a "sleeper hit" at nursing homes nationwide, so a retired citizen could be the "dark horse" to win this competition.M: Do they typically have glasses and tape in the middle to keep them fromfalling apart?R: Well of course - how else can you keep the glasses from falling off your face? You need the tape!M: How many days transpire before a GH2 participant comes up for food andwater?R: The unique thing about we GH2 fans is that, much like a plant sustained through photosynthesis, we can draw energy directly from television screens - it's an evolutionary advantage that allows us to play for weeks or even months at a stretch without succumbing to "hunger", "thirst", or "social contact".M: Finally, what motivates an internet geek to come out into the sunshine andperform before a crowd of thousands?R: Well, we know it can be a difficult transition from the dank safety of the basement or bedroom into full sunlight, so we are hoping for cloudy weather on the day of our tournament. Additionally, we plan on keeping the theatre lights low to minimize potential discomfort. We also urge tournament contestants to remember that our $200 cash prize can buy a lot of song packs on XBOX Live, and our GameStop gift certificates will stop the wallet-hurt when pre-ordering Guitar Hero 3!Get the full picture on this and other events at www.whatsupcv.com

Silk Purse, sow's ear!

2007-10-25T16:37:00.000-07:00

Does anyone out there care, I mean really care about what I think? Do you care what I think about the joys and agony of putting on events for all the world to see and, well, criticize?Case in point. Just a few weeks ago I put on an event, a large business conference. You may, or may not have heard about this event and, at this point, the event is not the point! However, since it was widely publicized in the press and one of my speakers was a little controversial, I had a few people tell me exactly what they thought of me and my event. One lady even accused me of being unpatriotic by bringing in this particular speaker (no, I am not Lee Bollinger!) a charge which I most adamently refute! Or is it refuse? Another person dialed my office phone ON THE WEEKEND, and proceeded to declare via voice mail, "how dare I bring in so and so, and I should be ashamed" of doing so! Interesting. No, the speaker was not Kim Jong Il, or anyone like him, just a man with different views than the ones by my new found Frienemies. What's Up with that? Can't we listen to and appreciate someone whose opinion differs from our own? Do we, by trying to shout out, or shut out, dissenting voices simply declare our own fear and prejudice? Silk purse. I have a passion for risk, but I am not a gambler. Change is the name of the game here. When you do something new, offbeat, unexpected, change happens. I hope the change I elicit is positive, alllowing me to grow first and foremost and then hoping that others will grow as a result of my inner decision to risk. Does it matter if they do? No. It only matters if I do. If you do. Not all change is good, or desirable, but no change at all is deadly. And so it is with ALL of my event producing friends. We wouldn't do this if we didn't love the thought that, somehow, some way, this thing I have created will catch fire and produce ... something great! So to anyone who has ever put on an event, or anyone who is contemplating doing so, a BIG EEEEE, EEEEE, EEEEE, to you (Monkey talk for KEEP KICKIN' BUTT!) And the next time someone calls you to complain or criticize you, or your event, ask them if they know where you can find a sows ear.