As some of you may know, I'm currently in Blacksburg, VA (VA Tech) working with the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association. I've been here a couple of days now. Our shooting schedule has been busy in the mornings, but the afternoons have been free (for me to blog!). That's why I'm typing now instead of working.
Since I had some free time this afternoon I thought of going by the local mall and walking around a bit - maybe catch some sales (some of you are now wondering if Kim somehow hacked onto my blog page and is typing this). But as I left the hotel, I had a strong desire to go to the memorial site for the students who were killed here at VA Tech just a week or so ago. All the victims have their own memorials, with their names printed on cards. As I walked around the memorial, I found myself praying for the families of the students, one by one, by name. I watched students there at the drill field. Some were weeping at the memorial, some were playing frisbee. All were trying to cope with it the best they could. I couldn't help but wonder how the parents must feel. Naturally, being a parent myself, the first thing I thought of was how I would feel if this had happened to one of my daughters. About that time, a cold wind began to blow that seemed to pass right through my coat and chill my very core. And there, I began thinking of how lonely the world must be for the parents. To have the joy in their lives ripped out in a moment. To be left with a gaping hole in their hearts that they think may never heal. All those pat answers that we as Christians tend to offer seemed, at that moment, to be useless. Words can't bring healing. Justice doesn't seem to help (much). Time may bring relief but that's a long ways away from the here and now. I realized that only the Great Comforter, the Holy Spirit, could do anything for these parents. And I began to ask the Holy Spirit to be with them. I think of how Jesus reacted when He found out that Lazarus had died - He wept. He didn't launch into a 3 point sermon on how the peace of God transcends our pain. He hurt, he wept, he felt loss. When Jesus left, he didn't leave us alone. He sent the Holy Spirit to be with us. Not as an inferior substitute or a ghostly shadow of God's nature, but as a powerful comforter and healer. And that healer is the only one who can help these families and students.
As I was leaving the memorial, having a sense of meeting with God, the temptation began to come around me. It seems that all the pretty girls on campus showed up wearing their short shorts and revealing tops. Of course, I began to beat myself up mentally that I would even be distracted by them. God wanted me there to pray, but the flesh began to kick in. Then I thought of Peter, James and John, who, when instructed by Jesus to stay and watch while he went up to pray, fell asleep instead. Not that I aspire to reach their level of obedience at that moment (I'm already there), but that even the disciples who were with Jesus were tempted seemed a comforting and reassuring thought. Jesus told them to "Get up and pray, so that you won't fall into temptation". There's a sermon right there.
The more I know God, it seems, the more I need Him.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Spoken like a Champion
A few posts back I wrote about the many funny things that kids say and how it seems to enlighten the situation. But what about when adults say things that defy their very intelligence (or maybe exposes their lack of it)? Most of you know, I work in TV. I've had the pleasure of working with some very fine people in the past. But occasionally we get stuck with a green reporter who doesn't know when to stop talking. Sometimes we get guys whom we know are smart but for some unknown reason disengage their gray matter just long enough for us to doubt.
A couple of years ago I was working with a reporter from a network that I will leave nameless, but I will say it covers nothing but professional football. We were interviewing the father of a pro football player who earlier in his adult life was addicted to drugs and alcohol. During a drug related incident, the father was shot and subsequently was left blinded for life. It was a sad story to hear. The correspondent, obviously thinking about that coveted sports emmy, decided to ask a very serious question. "At what moment did you first realize that you were blind?" The father thought very briefly and then answered laughingly "when I couldn't see". It was all I could do to keep from rolling on the floor at the stupidity of the question. Later the correspondent told us that his train of thought was "At what moment did you first realize you were PERMENANTLY blind?" Yeah sure it was...
The cameraman with whom I work most often has told me this story several times and I love it. Previously he was a network cameraman in NY City. One day his assignment was to go with a young reporter to interview a man who had been injured by a gun shot wound to the head. He had been in a coma, but had awakened and now they were getting the "exclusive" first interview. So they get to the hospital, go to the room and set up. The very first question the reporter asked was "what was the first thing that went through your mind when you got shot"? To which the man immediately answered "A bullet!"
There's no real point to this post other than to make you laugh. And maybe to remind us all to think before you speak... unless you want to be a network correspondent!!
A couple of years ago I was working with a reporter from a network that I will leave nameless, but I will say it covers nothing but professional football. We were interviewing the father of a pro football player who earlier in his adult life was addicted to drugs and alcohol. During a drug related incident, the father was shot and subsequently was left blinded for life. It was a sad story to hear. The correspondent, obviously thinking about that coveted sports emmy, decided to ask a very serious question. "At what moment did you first realize that you were blind?" The father thought very briefly and then answered laughingly "when I couldn't see". It was all I could do to keep from rolling on the floor at the stupidity of the question. Later the correspondent told us that his train of thought was "At what moment did you first realize you were PERMENANTLY blind?" Yeah sure it was...
The cameraman with whom I work most often has told me this story several times and I love it. Previously he was a network cameraman in NY City. One day his assignment was to go with a young reporter to interview a man who had been injured by a gun shot wound to the head. He had been in a coma, but had awakened and now they were getting the "exclusive" first interview. So they get to the hospital, go to the room and set up. The very first question the reporter asked was "what was the first thing that went through your mind when you got shot"? To which the man immediately answered "A bullet!"
There's no real point to this post other than to make you laugh. And maybe to remind us all to think before you speak... unless you want to be a network correspondent!!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
What Am I So Scared Of?
Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.
It's the American Dream. But what happens when reality challenges this ideal? As some of you know, my father has muscular dystrophy. He's had it for a long time now. Thankfully he has a mild form of MD that is a slow progressing disease. The muscles in his feet and hands have slowly atrophied over the past 20 years or so. I've seen a man who used to love to take me fishing turn into someone who has a hard time just opening doors. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm proud of him. He has a good attitude towards it. He fights hard to be as normal as possible. You won't hear him complain about his disease.
MD (at least the type he has) can be passed on to successive generations. I was tested when I was a child to see if I carried the genes that might lead to this. I never saw the results of that test. But I had it in my mind (through conversations with my dad) that I did carry the genes. So for many of my adult years, probably the better part of a decade, I lived with a constant fear that I would see the beginning stages of the disease, although I didn't really know what to look for. There were years when I thought about it every single day. Subsequently, whenever I dropped something or when I had normal muscle fatigue in my hands, my mind immediately started assuming the worst. About a year or so ago, I finally sat down with my parents to ask them what the first symptoms were that he showed. Turns out my fears were unfounded, as the symptoms he described were absolutely nothing that I thought I had. In fact, my father told me that I didn't carry the genes. It was as if a HUGE weight was lifted off my shoulders. My heavy heart jumped for joy and has been free ever since.
Our pastor at church has really challenged my train of thought over the last couple of years. He has actively attacked the notion that pain and suffering are things that the Christian should avoid at all costs. There are those who believe (incorrectly, in my opinion) that God's will for you is that you be healthy and wealthy. And if you're not, that you are missing out on God's rich promises. Without getting in to why I believe this doctrine is erroneous, instead why not consider what suffering should produce? Suffering, and in particular - long suffering, should bring about patience. Patience should bring out kindness. Kindness should bring about love. And love covers a multitude of sins. Pain and suffering also will produce character - good or bad, depending on the sufferer's response to his situation. Some might say, "it's easy for you to say these things, you've not suffered like I have. You have no idea what it's like to wake up in pain everyday, all day." I would say, you're absolutely right. I don't know what it's like. But the question is, will I let pain and suffering turn me into sour pickles, whom no one wants to be around? Or would I try my best to overcome my "woe is me" attitude with one of kindness and one of thankfulness for what I do have?
My father, while not perfect (and who is?), has been a great role model for me in this area. Most kids, at some point in their childhood years, go from wanting to be like their parents (early years) to not wanting to be their parents (teenage years). But sometimes as the children grow older, they realize that mom and dad weren't so terrible after all. And their words really had wisdom even when we "knew better". And we begin to see the positive aspects of their lives. If I ever do develop MD, I hope and pray that I would have the same resolve that my father has to not give in and to never complain. He never manipulates the situation to elicit some type of sympathy for his condition. He's a very good man. Probably better than he realizes.
I gotta bring this to a close, but my mind is a bit scattered this morning so please bear with me. Pain and suffering has produced some of the most Godly people I've ever met (or read about). Jon Courson has an incredible testimony about having lost his wife and daughter and how God has met him. Think about CS Lewis; he certainly was no stranger to pain. But he persevered through it and has influenced generations of believers worldwide. Or maybe some of the saints who attend our local church, who have dealt with setbacks which would have caused others to throw in the towel, yet they continue to be faithful to the body of Christ and they minister by their joy. I find more and more, that these are the kind of people I want to be like. But if I have to endure what they've gone through, do I have the courage to say "Your will and not my own". What am I so scared of?
It's the American Dream. But what happens when reality challenges this ideal? As some of you know, my father has muscular dystrophy. He's had it for a long time now. Thankfully he has a mild form of MD that is a slow progressing disease. The muscles in his feet and hands have slowly atrophied over the past 20 years or so. I've seen a man who used to love to take me fishing turn into someone who has a hard time just opening doors. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm proud of him. He has a good attitude towards it. He fights hard to be as normal as possible. You won't hear him complain about his disease.
MD (at least the type he has) can be passed on to successive generations. I was tested when I was a child to see if I carried the genes that might lead to this. I never saw the results of that test. But I had it in my mind (through conversations with my dad) that I did carry the genes. So for many of my adult years, probably the better part of a decade, I lived with a constant fear that I would see the beginning stages of the disease, although I didn't really know what to look for. There were years when I thought about it every single day. Subsequently, whenever I dropped something or when I had normal muscle fatigue in my hands, my mind immediately started assuming the worst. About a year or so ago, I finally sat down with my parents to ask them what the first symptoms were that he showed. Turns out my fears were unfounded, as the symptoms he described were absolutely nothing that I thought I had. In fact, my father told me that I didn't carry the genes. It was as if a HUGE weight was lifted off my shoulders. My heavy heart jumped for joy and has been free ever since.
Our pastor at church has really challenged my train of thought over the last couple of years. He has actively attacked the notion that pain and suffering are things that the Christian should avoid at all costs. There are those who believe (incorrectly, in my opinion) that God's will for you is that you be healthy and wealthy. And if you're not, that you are missing out on God's rich promises. Without getting in to why I believe this doctrine is erroneous, instead why not consider what suffering should produce? Suffering, and in particular - long suffering, should bring about patience. Patience should bring out kindness. Kindness should bring about love. And love covers a multitude of sins. Pain and suffering also will produce character - good or bad, depending on the sufferer's response to his situation. Some might say, "it's easy for you to say these things, you've not suffered like I have. You have no idea what it's like to wake up in pain everyday, all day." I would say, you're absolutely right. I don't know what it's like. But the question is, will I let pain and suffering turn me into sour pickles, whom no one wants to be around? Or would I try my best to overcome my "woe is me" attitude with one of kindness and one of thankfulness for what I do have?
My father, while not perfect (and who is?), has been a great role model for me in this area. Most kids, at some point in their childhood years, go from wanting to be like their parents (early years) to not wanting to be their parents (teenage years). But sometimes as the children grow older, they realize that mom and dad weren't so terrible after all. And their words really had wisdom even when we "knew better". And we begin to see the positive aspects of their lives. If I ever do develop MD, I hope and pray that I would have the same resolve that my father has to not give in and to never complain. He never manipulates the situation to elicit some type of sympathy for his condition. He's a very good man. Probably better than he realizes.
I gotta bring this to a close, but my mind is a bit scattered this morning so please bear with me. Pain and suffering has produced some of the most Godly people I've ever met (or read about). Jon Courson has an incredible testimony about having lost his wife and daughter and how God has met him. Think about CS Lewis; he certainly was no stranger to pain. But he persevered through it and has influenced generations of believers worldwide. Or maybe some of the saints who attend our local church, who have dealt with setbacks which would have caused others to throw in the towel, yet they continue to be faithful to the body of Christ and they minister by their joy. I find more and more, that these are the kind of people I want to be like. But if I have to endure what they've gone through, do I have the courage to say "Your will and not my own". What am I so scared of?
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Love your neighbor
Warning: This post contains mild language and may be inappropriate for younger readers.
This post might offend someone who knows me, but if you continue to read the post you might slowly find yourself lowering your flamethrower. Maybe...
There is a bumper sticker that I've seen on vehicles around town and in some stores and perhaps you've seen it too. I have to say I laugh everytime I see it. What does it say?
"Jesus loves you.
Everybody else thinks you're an asshole."
Even now as I type it I'm chuckling a bit. Somehow this statement rings just a little too true in my own life. Do you know anyone who seems to fit this profile? If you do, then you might find yourself fighting back a little grin too. There's only one problem: God won't let me live with this attitude.
Example A (and really all the condemning evidence you'll need): there is a young man who lives very near to us who was recently arrested for beating up his mother and worse, sexually assaulting and violating a 5 year old girl. I read an article regarding the sexual assault charges - it was very graphic and did not help me to form a high opinion of this young man. Only a couple of days ago, his house caught on fire and so, like the concerned (nosey) neighbor that I am, I walked down to watch the fire burn. I found myself rejoicing that he got what he deserved. I saw him standing in his yard, talking to friends, even laughing occasionally. My reaction: Why can't life follow art and a house fall on top of him like in "The Wizard of Oz"? I was secretly planning all the things that I would do if I ever caught him around my house eyeing my kids. Vain imaginations... I REALLY do not like this kid. I don't want to know him; I don't want to help him. Now most people in America would consider my feelings for this young man to be justified, even though he's done nothing to me specifically. But when I shut up and listen to God, I hear his words ringing loud and clear in my head "Love your neighbor as yourself" (He doesn't speak to me in King James). Surely he meant those who help us, right? (the story of the Good Samaritan) He couldn't possibly mean this guy too, right? This kid has done some pretty awful things. But then again, so did the Apostle Paul and King David. Come to think of it, I've not been such a role model in my life either. Sure, I've never beaten up my mother or sexually assaulted anyone, but does God really qualify the severity of sins? I don't think so. In fact, I'm pretty sure not. I'm also sure that God loves each of us unconditionally. This is important: IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT I'VE DONE OR NOT DONE, GOD LOVES ME THE SAME. Sorry for yelling :-) Then that means God must love this kid just as much as He loves me. In light of that, how can I possibly continue to harbor any hatred towards this young man? I may not have to strike up a relationship with this guy, but God wants my heart to be pure towards those who hold no regard for others.
Even if they are assholes...
God, change my heart. It's so easy to let the influence of the world's values distort my perceptions of others. It's times like these that I'm reminded again...
I need a Savior.
This post might offend someone who knows me, but if you continue to read the post you might slowly find yourself lowering your flamethrower. Maybe...
There is a bumper sticker that I've seen on vehicles around town and in some stores and perhaps you've seen it too. I have to say I laugh everytime I see it. What does it say?
"Jesus loves you.
Everybody else thinks you're an asshole."
Even now as I type it I'm chuckling a bit. Somehow this statement rings just a little too true in my own life. Do you know anyone who seems to fit this profile? If you do, then you might find yourself fighting back a little grin too. There's only one problem: God won't let me live with this attitude.
Example A (and really all the condemning evidence you'll need): there is a young man who lives very near to us who was recently arrested for beating up his mother and worse, sexually assaulting and violating a 5 year old girl. I read an article regarding the sexual assault charges - it was very graphic and did not help me to form a high opinion of this young man. Only a couple of days ago, his house caught on fire and so, like the concerned (nosey) neighbor that I am, I walked down to watch the fire burn. I found myself rejoicing that he got what he deserved. I saw him standing in his yard, talking to friends, even laughing occasionally. My reaction: Why can't life follow art and a house fall on top of him like in "The Wizard of Oz"? I was secretly planning all the things that I would do if I ever caught him around my house eyeing my kids. Vain imaginations... I REALLY do not like this kid. I don't want to know him; I don't want to help him. Now most people in America would consider my feelings for this young man to be justified, even though he's done nothing to me specifically. But when I shut up and listen to God, I hear his words ringing loud and clear in my head "Love your neighbor as yourself" (He doesn't speak to me in King James). Surely he meant those who help us, right? (the story of the Good Samaritan) He couldn't possibly mean this guy too, right? This kid has done some pretty awful things. But then again, so did the Apostle Paul and King David. Come to think of it, I've not been such a role model in my life either. Sure, I've never beaten up my mother or sexually assaulted anyone, but does God really qualify the severity of sins? I don't think so. In fact, I'm pretty sure not. I'm also sure that God loves each of us unconditionally. This is important: IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT I'VE DONE OR NOT DONE, GOD LOVES ME THE SAME. Sorry for yelling :-) Then that means God must love this kid just as much as He loves me. In light of that, how can I possibly continue to harbor any hatred towards this young man? I may not have to strike up a relationship with this guy, but God wants my heart to be pure towards those who hold no regard for others.
Even if they are assholes...
God, change my heart. It's so easy to let the influence of the world's values distort my perceptions of others. It's times like these that I'm reminded again...
I need a Savior.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
From the Mouths of Babes
I love my kids. I really do. Sometimes kids say the craziest and funniest things. I'm glad since, as most of you with kids know, parenting isn't always a barrel of laughs. I'm convinced my kids will be the best lawyers and politicians out there when they grow up, considering how much time they spend defending themselves against their sister's accusations.
But sometimes they say things that just make me laugh out loud.
A few years back we took Alison to her first day of "school". Her first day was in the second grade (we had homeschooled up to that point and are now back to homeschooling). I'm not sure who was more anxious about school, Alison or us. But obviously, the school, Calvary Chapel Christian School, was excited about the children returning for another year of fun and learning. Evidence of this excitement was in the form of a big banner across the schoolyard that proclaimed "Welcome Back Students". As we pulled in to the parking lot, Kasey, then 4 or 5 and still grasping the finer machinations of the English language, read the banner aloud to us in a rather inquisitive tone "Welcome BLACK Students!?!??" We laughed hard at this, as did the principal, teachers and pastors of the church. It's nice to have innocence in the family.
Another moment of Kasey's exclamations came a couple of years ago. She was working hard on a beautiful necklace that she was making. She was stringing beads on to the necklace when she ran into a problem. She realized that two hands just weren't enough to accomodate this tricky task. The solution: put one end of the necklace in her mouth. This way she had one hand to hold the other end and the other hand could string the beads onto the thread. With the necklace still in her mouth and her hard at work, she proclaimed to me "Oh, my mouth is being SO helpful today!" Yeah Kasey, I have alot of days when I wish my mouth was that helpful too.
But one of the funniest moments came with Alison. It came 4 or 5 years ago when we were trying to explain to her why we, being the "serious" Christians that we are, weren't going to be celebrating Halloween like all the rest of the kids. Now I must confess that I've struggled with this for years. I have a real hard time going along with the whole celebrating Halloween is celebrating the devil stuff. To me, like the kids, Halloween is a day to get one thing - CANDY!!! Yeah, I know the history of how the holiday came into being...blah, blah, blah. But I just don't buy into it lock, stock and barrel. We've come up with a compromise - we now go to one of the area church's "Halloween alternatives" where there are lots of games to be played and candy to be freely given away. However, this particular day we were trying, probably very weakly, to explain to Alison why we weren't going out that year for Halloween. Finally, Alison said in her best unintentional Opie Taylor opine, "I don't like the devil, but I SURE do like candy." The brokenhearted look on her face told me that she understood what we were trying to say. But it made me feel like a heel and a killjoy and I was determined to find a more "acceptable" way to get this child some candy.
Being a parent isn't always fun and it sure isn't easy. When I think back to my parents at this stage in life, it seemed like they knew all the answers and always knew what to do. Why is it, then, that I feel so unprepared to be a dad? Thankfully, the kids bring light moments like these to our lives. And it's in these moments when I realize parenthood is as much a joyful journey as it is a duty and I look forward to all the years I have left being their dad.
But sometimes they say things that just make me laugh out loud.
A few years back we took Alison to her first day of "school". Her first day was in the second grade (we had homeschooled up to that point and are now back to homeschooling). I'm not sure who was more anxious about school, Alison or us. But obviously, the school, Calvary Chapel Christian School, was excited about the children returning for another year of fun and learning. Evidence of this excitement was in the form of a big banner across the schoolyard that proclaimed "Welcome Back Students". As we pulled in to the parking lot, Kasey, then 4 or 5 and still grasping the finer machinations of the English language, read the banner aloud to us in a rather inquisitive tone "Welcome BLACK Students!?!??" We laughed hard at this, as did the principal, teachers and pastors of the church. It's nice to have innocence in the family.
Another moment of Kasey's exclamations came a couple of years ago. She was working hard on a beautiful necklace that she was making. She was stringing beads on to the necklace when she ran into a problem. She realized that two hands just weren't enough to accomodate this tricky task. The solution: put one end of the necklace in her mouth. This way she had one hand to hold the other end and the other hand could string the beads onto the thread. With the necklace still in her mouth and her hard at work, she proclaimed to me "Oh, my mouth is being SO helpful today!" Yeah Kasey, I have alot of days when I wish my mouth was that helpful too.
But one of the funniest moments came with Alison. It came 4 or 5 years ago when we were trying to explain to her why we, being the "serious" Christians that we are, weren't going to be celebrating Halloween like all the rest of the kids. Now I must confess that I've struggled with this for years. I have a real hard time going along with the whole celebrating Halloween is celebrating the devil stuff. To me, like the kids, Halloween is a day to get one thing - CANDY!!! Yeah, I know the history of how the holiday came into being...blah, blah, blah. But I just don't buy into it lock, stock and barrel. We've come up with a compromise - we now go to one of the area church's "Halloween alternatives" where there are lots of games to be played and candy to be freely given away. However, this particular day we were trying, probably very weakly, to explain to Alison why we weren't going out that year for Halloween. Finally, Alison said in her best unintentional Opie Taylor opine, "I don't like the devil, but I SURE do like candy." The brokenhearted look on her face told me that she understood what we were trying to say. But it made me feel like a heel and a killjoy and I was determined to find a more "acceptable" way to get this child some candy.
Being a parent isn't always fun and it sure isn't easy. When I think back to my parents at this stage in life, it seemed like they knew all the answers and always knew what to do. Why is it, then, that I feel so unprepared to be a dad? Thankfully, the kids bring light moments like these to our lives. And it's in these moments when I realize parenthood is as much a joyful journey as it is a duty and I look forward to all the years I have left being their dad.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Inaugural Blog
Well I suppose a blog isn't a blog unless you have something to talk about or write about. It appears it's high time for me to start typing.
I'm not sure why I created this blog, other than my friend, Surrenderedwarrior, has one. And dog-gone it, if everybody else is jumping off of buildings, then why shouldn't I?
Hopefully in posts to come there will be lots of interesting stories, facts and information that will fill your internet experience with wonderment and glee. You also might be surprised (or not) at the lack of forethought or seriousness in some of my posts, but well, I'm just that way sometimes.
One of the questions I'm asked often is "How do you like living in Florida?" Well, Flori-DUH is an interesting place and not necessarily because of the intelligencia that inhabit (or is that inhibit) our wonderful state. I've noticed the ever increasing desire for developers to "improve" our fair land. One development in particular is situated on the Manatee River in a previously beautiful boggy area. I remember when the signs went up announcing the stately housing that would soon fill these shores. They proceeded to strip the land bare, pave over half of it and build houses on the other half. What do you suppose they named this suburban sanctuary? "The Preserve". Are you kidding me? The "Preserve"?!!???!!
However, Sarasota is a city of quiet, relaxing folks. And I do mean relaxing. You've heard that when people retire they want to move to Florida. Well those retiree's parents live here in Sarasota. Why just the other day a lady was driving along Hwy 41 during rather heavy traffic when she realized she was in a dilemma. She needed to turn left across 3 lanes of traffic to get to the store (to pick up stool softeners, or no doubt some other life-saving medicine). However, with the heavy traffic, would she be able to get back out again? So she decided to park IN the turning lane and meander over to the store. I'm not making this stuff up.
You would think after the 2000 Presidential election that Florida would have figured out how to have an electoral process without some voting snafu. Not in this great state, no sir. In November, Sarasota held elections for many offices including congressional races. Vern Buchanan (R) defeated Christine Jennings (D) for District 13 by a mere 369 votes. Close race with a clear winner, right? Wrong! The demons of democracy reared their ugly heads again, this time not in hanging chads but in the voting machines software. The Democrats claim a machine "malfunction" (read, conspiracy) in that there were several thousand (18,000) registered Sarasota voters who skipped the District 13 vote. Or did they? Jennings' camp has taken their pleas through many courts with still no concrete resolution on the matter. And the irony of all ironies: the congressional seat up for grabs was the seat of Katherine Harris, who was at the center of the 2000 Florida Presidential election scandals.
Do I like living in Florida? You betcha I do. It's the only state in the union where I feel smarter than most people (not really, but sometimes). You couldn't ask for a better state to live in if you work in the news media (which I do sometimes). There's always some sick wacko who is trying to extort, rob, kill or plunder and that's just in politics. That doesn't count the rest of the "regular" criminals.
But the beaches are nice (when there's no red tide) and the value of my home has increased nearly 3 fold since I moved in (however so has my homeowner's insurance - thank you Florida hurricanes). So why should I complain about living in Florida? I love it. It's full of crazies just like me!
It's my paradoxical paradise.
I'm not sure why I created this blog, other than my friend, Surrenderedwarrior, has one. And dog-gone it, if everybody else is jumping off of buildings, then why shouldn't I?
Hopefully in posts to come there will be lots of interesting stories, facts and information that will fill your internet experience with wonderment and glee. You also might be surprised (or not) at the lack of forethought or seriousness in some of my posts, but well, I'm just that way sometimes.
One of the questions I'm asked often is "How do you like living in Florida?" Well, Flori-DUH is an interesting place and not necessarily because of the intelligencia that inhabit (or is that inhibit) our wonderful state. I've noticed the ever increasing desire for developers to "improve" our fair land. One development in particular is situated on the Manatee River in a previously beautiful boggy area. I remember when the signs went up announcing the stately housing that would soon fill these shores. They proceeded to strip the land bare, pave over half of it and build houses on the other half. What do you suppose they named this suburban sanctuary? "The Preserve". Are you kidding me? The "Preserve"?!!???!!
However, Sarasota is a city of quiet, relaxing folks. And I do mean relaxing. You've heard that when people retire they want to move to Florida. Well those retiree's parents live here in Sarasota. Why just the other day a lady was driving along Hwy 41 during rather heavy traffic when she realized she was in a dilemma. She needed to turn left across 3 lanes of traffic to get to the store (to pick up stool softeners, or no doubt some other life-saving medicine). However, with the heavy traffic, would she be able to get back out again? So she decided to park IN the turning lane and meander over to the store. I'm not making this stuff up.
You would think after the 2000 Presidential election that Florida would have figured out how to have an electoral process without some voting snafu. Not in this great state, no sir. In November, Sarasota held elections for many offices including congressional races. Vern Buchanan (R) defeated Christine Jennings (D) for District 13 by a mere 369 votes. Close race with a clear winner, right? Wrong! The demons of democracy reared their ugly heads again, this time not in hanging chads but in the voting machines software. The Democrats claim a machine "malfunction" (read, conspiracy) in that there were several thousand (18,000) registered Sarasota voters who skipped the District 13 vote. Or did they? Jennings' camp has taken their pleas through many courts with still no concrete resolution on the matter. And the irony of all ironies: the congressional seat up for grabs was the seat of Katherine Harris, who was at the center of the 2000 Florida Presidential election scandals.
Do I like living in Florida? You betcha I do. It's the only state in the union where I feel smarter than most people (not really, but sometimes). You couldn't ask for a better state to live in if you work in the news media (which I do sometimes). There's always some sick wacko who is trying to extort, rob, kill or plunder and that's just in politics. That doesn't count the rest of the "regular" criminals.
But the beaches are nice (when there's no red tide) and the value of my home has increased nearly 3 fold since I moved in (however so has my homeowner's insurance - thank you Florida hurricanes). So why should I complain about living in Florida? I love it. It's full of crazies just like me!
It's my paradoxical paradise.
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