Providence

Thanks to Dave Carr, I created a personalized card that I use to send hand-written notes to people.  Dave is a huge advocate of doing this, it gives a personal touch to anything we do, and is so much more intimate than e-mails or texts.  My personalized card has Snickers on the front, with that huge smile on his face, and inside it says, “Sometimes we lose sight of the fact that the journey is just as important, and oftentimes just as much fun, as the destination.”  Yesterday, Patrick achieved a destination, he graduated from Oglethorpe University, Summa Cum Laude, he had one A- in his time there, the rest A’s.  I have to say though, in this case, while the journey was important, it definitely wasn’t fun.

Let me take you back three years ago to 2013 and when all hell broke loose for Patrick and the rest of the family as well.  Patrick had just gone back for his second semester of his sophomore year at Grove City College in Pennsylvania.  Patrick loved Grove City, it was a relatively small school, very strict religiously, and had very solid academics.  In January, we started getting some distressing calls.  Just a few weeks earlier, he had seemed very happy, but that had changed dramatically.  As the weeks went by, he was plummeting.  Each conversation was getting deeper and deeper into depression.  I finally told him, if he wanted to come home, just come home.  He then said the words that no parent ever wants to hear.  He said, “you won’t be disappointed in me?”  If there’s one thing in life I’ve learned as a parent, don’t ever tell your children or lead them to believe you are ever disappointed in them.  I told him no, I could never be disappointed in him. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t come home soon enough, and we got a call from the counselor on campus that Patrick was planning to commit suicide, and he wanted to admit him to a local psychiatric hospital.  This was our first experience with a psychiatric hospital, and we learned a lot, particularly patience.  Imagine yourself as a parent, and your child is five or six states away, and he/she is in a psychiatric hospital that you’ve never seen, and you can only talk to him or her once a day?  We patiently would wait for that time each evening, when we would get 10-15 minutes on the phone with Patrick, and try to decipher what the hell was going on.  As soon as we were able, Laurel and Kelly got a flight up to Pennsylvania to see Patrick in the hospital, which gave us a whole lot of comfort.  We were eventually able to secure Patrick’s release from the psychiatric hospital, and we were able to bring him home.

One of the most painful parts of all of this was withdrawing Patrick from Grove City.  When we got Patrick released from the psychiatric hospital, we also packed all of his stuff up from his dorm.  I will say that packing up his dorm room was one of the most painful separations I’ve witnessed in my life.  Patrick began believing he was gay, and once that became apparent at Grove City, he was rejected immediately.  Grove City holds itself out as a very caring, Christian environment, but that doesn’t apply to those that are different.  I will have to say this was also one of the most critical junctions in dealing with Patrick’s issues.  He was ready for us to reject him also, but Laurel and I both told him, just as God never started loving you, our love for you has no beginning or end.  We will love you always, no matter what.  That appeared to provide a great deal of relief to Patrick.

When we brought Patrick home, we had some significant adjustments to make.  We hid all of the knives in the house, or anything else that we believed he could hurt himself with.  Laurel spent many nights sleeping in the spare bed in Patrick’s room to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself.   But the pain for all of us was just beginning.  Shortly after Patrick came home, Patrick revealed the one night at dinner what had led him to want to commit suicide.  He revealed that his private music teacher from his middle school and high school years had sexually abused him.  For me, this was one of the greatest nightmares a parent can face.  We are given children to protect and raise, and we had failed at this.  It was devastating.  As a side note, we pursued many different angles with the police and the district attorney’s office.  We learned a lot about how little our government officials can or will do about issues like this, I guess, unless it provides major headlines like the situation at Penn State.

While I wish I could say that when Patrick came home, everything worked out happily ever after, and we all went back to normal, it wasn’t that simple.  The one night Patrick “disappeared” and Laurel thought a saw was missing.  I frantically drove down the road, no idea where I was going, but I was looking for Patrick.  The next thing I know, there he is walking down the road toward me.  As I pulled up, he said, “What?”, and I said get in the car.  I told him you can’t just go for a walk without telling us anything with the state you’re in. 

Patrick eventually went back into a local psychiatric hospital.  It was a disaster, the hospital was awful, and to a certain extent, that may have been a turning point for all of us.  Two bits of humor from this.  When we were checking him in late on a Sunday night at the hospital, he started stuttering.  I found out later that this can be a side-effect of anti-depressant medications.  I didn’t say anything, but I was livid.  Patrick has a beautiful singing voice, and all I could think was, “OK, we’ve put up with a lot, but by God, you will not stutter.”  The second thing was when we went to visit him after a few days, we found out how bad the place was.  I didn’t realize at the time how bad it was, and how much Patrick wanted out, and I asked the innocent question, “How do you like it here?”  He replied, “I f-f-f-f-fucking hate it!”  I guess you could call that gallows humor. 

Eventually, Patrick progressed, he climbed out of the depths, through various counselors and medication, he emerged from the depths of hell.  He was able to go back to school, to Oglethorpe University, and that was mainly because we wanted to keep him close by.  Patrick determined he wasn’t gay, the abuse made him assume he was, but he found out he wasn’t.  He has fallen far away from God, unfortunately.  He is angry at God for letting this happen, he is angry because the abuser is a “self-proclaiming” good Christian, who leads the worship music at his church.  Grove City College proclaims to be a good Christian college, but rejected him because he thought he was gay.  Through all of this, Patrick has soured on God and religion.

We still had some rocky moments along the way.  Patrick still has his moments, he can dip into depression at times, and at times, he can plummet into depression.  Unfortunately, the one time happened to be when he was an ocean away.  In the summer of 2014, Patrick wanted to go on a study abroad trip to Germany.  We of course had trepidation, but we finally thought it would be good for him, and he seemed to be so much better.  It all started off well, but then, he started plummeting again.  We would have discussions with him on the Skype, that was the only way we could talk to him, and he was definitely falling deeper.  At one point, he made the comment, “I probably won’t kill myself here, because I know it would be difficult for you to repatriate the body.”  Of course, that was our number one concern.  The worst experience was the one Sunday when we had scheduled a time to Skype with him.  No Patrick.  We waited, and waited.  As time wore on, I grew angrier and angrier.  I felt so helpless, I couldn’t figure out anything I could do to find out is he alive, where is he?  Thankfully, Laurel is much more resourceful than me.  She started looking up the various friends Patrick had made in Germany in the program on Facebook, and she started messaging all of them to see if they had seen Patrick.  One had, and she went down to Patrick’s apartment.  He had fallen asleep and missed our call.  We could start breathing again.

We now face a new chapter in our lives, in Patrick’s life.  He has finished college, and he now is headed to graduate school.  He was accepted to Rhode Island College, and he received a fellowship, so he first year at least is paid for.  The question that Laurel and I have struggled with for many months now is do you let him go?  We know what happened when he was at Grove City, we know what happened when he was in Germany, how will this be different?  Again, he will be many states away, what will we do if he plummets again?  Our daughter Kelly has even questioned us, questioned our judgment on this.  My dear friend from WIKA, Brent Shadix, also asked me about it.  We don’t know the answer, but we finally came to the conclusion, at some point, he is going to have to live his life.  Patrick has to be able to go where he wants to go or needs to go to follow his dreams or pursuits, and if that takes him away from us, we have to have faith that it will work out.  Are we scared?  Beyond imagination.  We’re scared to death for him to be so far away, knowing his history and his present.  We think about it, we pray about it all the time. 

I know this will sound crazy, but then again, I often find divine intervention in crazier places.  Last week, when I was at church, the pastor was doing a sermon on the Prodigal Son, which is one of my favorite parables.  As I listened intently to the sermon, the following line came crashing down upon me.  “I realize I have always believed there is a great Providence that, so to speak, waits ahead of us.”  You see, Rhode Island College is in Providence.  Maybe this is the Providence that Patrick needs to finally step out of the depths of hell once and for all.  Maybe this is the Providence that will help Patrick heal and to become better finally.  Maybe this is the Providence that God is calling Patrick to so that they can reconcile, and Patrick can finally forgive God for what happened to him.  

The Loss of (Wo)man's Best Friend

Snickers McCullough – Born Spring 2004, Died May 14, 2016. 

Also known as Snick, Snick-Man, Snickey Bear, and most often, The Big Fat Fella.

Amazingly to us, he was almost always a puppy.  Until recently when he got sick, he would still chase the squirrels, dance around like a lunatic for a treat or table scraps, and go upstairs and search for a sock or a stuffed animal to take outside and play keep-away with until you gave him a treat.  He always had a youthful exuberance and a constant smile, if a dog can really smile.  But I think he did smile, he had such a good life, and he deserved it, he was such a good dog.  He really didn’t deserve the way it all ended, so soon really for a dog, but that’s beyond our control.  It’s amazing how it all transpired, if you go way back to the beginning ….

I never thought we’d ever get a pet.  We had made it over twenty years through our marriage, through most of the growing years for Megan and Kelly and partway through the childhood of Patrick and Sean with no pets, and I never thought we’d ever get one.  Then, the boys, mainly Sean , decided they wanted a dog.  I figured if we’d wait them out, they would eventually move on to something else.  This one was different.  They didn’t give up, especially Sean, he would continually demand, we are getting a dog.  So we finally caved, we went looking at dogs, and Snickers won our hearts.

Then, reality set in, and I never thought Snickers would survive.  Everyone says dogs love their crates, but Snickers never did.  The first night we brought him home, he cried and cried in his crate, and we did what you’re supposed to do, we let him cry.  Finally we couldn’t take it any longer, and we went down, and found that he had pooped all over his crate.  There we were out in the backyard at 3 in the morning, cleaning him up and cleaning up his crate.  That was just the beginning.

He hated his crate, he was awful at night, and Laurel had to sleep in the living room every night with him.  At one point, Laurel said “It’s either him or me.”  I was really worried that our short-lived life as pet owners was coming to a close.  Then one night, we were sitting on the couch watching TV, the back door was open, and Snickers started barking outside.  For whatever reason, Laurel thought he was in danger, she came leaping off the couch, flew out the back door in her bare feet, screaming , “Snickers, Snickers, I’m coming!”  He had won her over and he was her baby.  And boy was he her baby.  It would be funny, Snickers would do something, and I’d be screaming at him, and he’d just look at me with this expression of “what the heck is your problem?”  If Laurel would ever yell at him, which wasn’t very often, he would lie on the floor and get as low as he possibly could, pouting because she was mad at him.

As a puppy, Snickers was very much a challenge.  He would dig and dig at the carpet until he could get a strand, and he would then grab it and pull it across the floor, leaving a bare spot across the carpet.  We eventually had to put duct tape throughout the living room to cover the various bare spots on our carpet.  He would teeth on our furniture ruining our couch, end tables, anything he could get to.  Our living room soon looked like something you would see at an off-campus college apartment.  The only thing missing was the smell of stale beer.

The biggest issue would be when he would escape.  We lived right next to Grant Park, a large wooded nature park, and he would make his way to Grant Park and search for anything his nose would take him to.  We would take off running through Grant Park, with a hot dog, screaming “hot dog, Snickers, hot dog!”  When we’d find him and get close, we would break off pieces of the hot dog and throw them to try to get his attention.  He would eventually smell the hot dog, and he would stop long enough for us to catch him and take him home. 

We finally took him to puppy training.  As usual, Snickers’ nose got him into trouble more often than not.  Each pet owner would bring treats for his/her dog for the training, and Snickers couldn’t resist seeking out each dog’s treats.  Snickers eventually graduated from puppy training, but we were convinced they passed him just so they wouldn’t have to deal with him again in class.

When we moved from Dayton, Ohio to Lawrenceville, Georgia, Laurel had the task of finding our next home.  Her first choice, and mine, was our current home.  Many people who knew Laurel accused her of buying this house for Snickers, but she denies it.  The backyard is completed wooded and has a wealth of squirrels moving from tree to tree.  There have been times where Snickers stays out back all day, going from tree to tree, constantly looking up and howling as the squirrels torment him.  He would come in periodically to get a drink of water, but head right back out to continue chasing the squirrels.  There was one time that Snickers came to the back door with a dead squirrel in his mouth.  We are convinced that somehow the squirrel fell from a tree and Snickers found him dead, because there was no way that Snickers could have ever caught one of the squirrels.  We often heard the squirrels laughing at Snickers as he diligently chased them up the many trees in the yard.

After we moved to Georgia, someone (no idea who) got the bright idea that Snickers needed a playmate.  We bought Minnie, another beagle, a female, for Snickers to play with.  We soon found that Minnie much preferred sleeping to anything else, and she failed miserably as a playmate.  Once in a while, Minnie would do the “Minnie fake” as we called it, and she would act like she wanted to play.  Snickers would get all excited and start running around like a nut, and then Minnie would go back and lie down, just kidding.  At times, Minnie, like most females, would lash out at Snickers and attack him.  Poor Snickers would have no idea what he did or why he was being attacked, but you’d see him going up to Minnie afterward, groveling, like most males, apologizing for whatever transgression he committed. 

While Snickers had to share the house with Minnie, and eventually Little Bit and Daisy, he really never had to share Laurel’s heart.  I used to joke that the ranking in Laurel’s heart was Snickers, Megan, Patrick, Sean, Kelly, Minnie and then me (Laurel always loved that).  While it was just a joke, there’s no doubt Snickers was always Laurel’s favorite, and she was always his favorite.  They had a special bond, and because of that, he had such a great life.  And so did we, you really couldn’t ask for a better dog.  Sure, he was a pain in the ass about food, his nose led him way too many places, but he was so good natured, and he always had that smile.  We’ll always remember him as that puppy who loved his treats, loved his backyard and loved chasing those squirrels.  We will miss him.

Making America Great Again?

Recently my cousin Marie posted a picture of her house growing up.  It brought back so many memories of those times visiting my Uncle Bob and Aunt Millie’s house and seeing all of my cousins.  It reminded me of all of those visits, all of my cousins, all of those times we all got together to have family reunions, birthdays, weddings, whatever celebration it might be.  It made me think of a simpler time, really, a better time. 

I remember when ……

·        My Dad went 18 years without a single day off.  No vacation, no sick day, no time off.  He worked hard all week, did the various tasks around the house on the weekends, like mowing the lawn, and went back at it the next week, no breaks.  Still, in the evenings, he’d go out in the backyard with me, and he’d play catcher to my pitcher.  He wasn’t the only Dad who would spend those nights playing with us after long days at work.  I remember Jeff Conley’s Dad playing basketball with us, I remember Jay Weiland’s Dad doing the same.  Not sure how they all did it, but so many dads would put in a full day at work, then put in an evening of being Dad, and then do everything else that needed done on the weekends.

·         My Mom worked, she worked with my Dad all those years.  She’d work all day, then she’d come home, make us a full course dinner, meat, potatoes, vegetables.  Back then, we didn’t have microwaves, we didn’t have frozen “stuff” to heat up.  She’d take care of the cleaning and laundry on the weekends.

·        We’d go visit my cousins on the weekends.  All the kids would play until it was dark, and we’d often play past dark.  The grown-ups would sit around the table and talk, drink some beers, drink some wine, laugh and relish that time they had on the weekend to enjoy life and each other.  And the food was incredible.  I remember thinking my aunts were some of the best cooks that God ever put on the planet.  Nothing against my Mom, but Mom cooked the same type of stuff all the time, your aunts cooked other stuff, I remember stuffed cabbage, stuffed peppers, nut rolls, peach rolls, and Golden Bars.  I’m sure we could all debate who made the best Golden Bars, but from my standpoint, they were all good.

·         We’d go to my Great-grandmother’s house every Sunday for dinner.  We’d sit around this big table, my Great-grandmother, my Grandmother, my Grandfather, and my uncles and aunts.  We’d spend the afternoon together, eat and talk, and then go home to start the week all over again.  My Grandparents, uncles and aunts spoiled me rotten, so those Sunday’s were really great days for me.

·        We had our one real vacation, I think I was probably 10 or 12 or so.  We went to Rehoboth Beach in Delaware.  We drove to the beach, and we stayed in an ocean front hotel on the beach.  Looking back, it probably wasn’t the best hotel in the world, but for me, it was a huge deal.  It was one of the few times I had ever stayed in a hotel.  I remember swimming in the ocean, I remember swimming with my Dad.  Since my Dad worked so much, I didn’t get a huge amount of time with him, so it was a special time. 

·         We’d go to church, my Mom made sure I got to church every Sunday, we’d get rides from my Uncle Bob Irving, we’d get rides from another family from our church, but my Mom made sure I made it to church every Sunday.

·         I’d go hunting with my Dad, my brothers, my Uncle Bob Irving and my cousin JR.  I remember hunting small game, walking around in the fields, in the snow, just enjoying that time together.  I remember learning about God from my Uncle Bob, I remember him telling me the story of the birds in the field, and how God loved to hear even the blackbirds singing. 

·         I’d go camping with my Uncle Pal in his camper.  Uncle Pal took me to various campgrounds, we’d go fishing for bass or trout in lakes or streams throughout Pennsylvania.  I was a horrible fisherman (then again I was a horrible hunter too), but I loved those camping trips.  We’d eat crappy food, but for some reason, camp food always tastes good, at least when you’re a kid.

·         We used to play various “made up” games either in the street or on the various fields or ball fields in the neighborhood.  We played kick the can, kick ball, and of course the standard baseball, football and basketball if anyone had a basketball hoop.  It was a big deal when someone “took their ball and went home” because in many cases, that was the only ball we had.  We’d show up in a field and someone would have a ball, someone would have a bat, some of the guys had mitts.  We’d share mitts when we’d change sides, and we’d often have to wear it on the wrong hand if we didn’t have enough left-handed or right-handed mitts.  We’d make up the rules as we went along, imaginary runners, no hitting to right field or whatever we had to do to make the game work.  We’d stay out so late, we’d eventually go home and hope that our Mom’s wouldn’t yell at us for being out so late.  We lived to be outside playing.

·         My brother and I would go to Pirate games during the summer.  General admission was $1, we would park on the North Side of Pittsburgh on the streets for free, and we would maybe get a soft drink at the game for whatever it cost back then.  With gas, it probably ended up being a night at the stadium for somewhere between $5-10 for the both of us.

·         We defined ourselves and each other based on ethnicity or religion, but not in an ugly or derisive manner.  My grandfather came over from Ireland, so I was proud of that heritage.  I had friends who were descended from Italians, Germans, and various other European ethnicities.  We lived in a largely Catholic area, and I remember my friends calling me a “left footer” because I was Presbyterian.  While we all poked fun at each other’s heritage and religion, and I can assure you, there were times I’d get pretty irritated at being called a left footer, it wasn’t ugly, it was just how we defined ourselves and each other.

·         We went shopping once a year for school clothes, we’d essentially get enough clothes to wear a different outfit each day, and we’d get one pair of dress shoes and a pair of Keds tennis shoes or maybe even Converse All-Stars.  We’d refresh those clothes at Christmas time and have some new outfits for the second half of the school year.

·         We had one car, eventually we got a second used car.  The used car was shared among my Mom, and my two brothers.  We made due with that one extra car, no one but my Dad drove his car.

·         We would go next door to borrow a cup of milk, a cup of sugar, whatever it might be that we needed for our Mom to finish dinner.  In so many ways, our neighbors were almost like an extended family. 

What about you?  Any of these memories sound familiar?  There was a time when our parents worked hard, but they still figured out how to spend time with us.  Family was important, whether it was our immediate family or our extended family.  Weekends were time for family, we cherished our time together.  Church was a family event, it was important to go to church each Sunday.  Vacations were about being together, the journey and who you spent it to was much more important than the destination.  Clothes didn’t define us, we pretty much all dressed the same.  We cared about each other, we cared about family, we cared about neighbors, we were a community.

I’m not sure when it all changed, somewhere along the way, we lost our way.  We lost that work ethic, we lost that mindset of a hard day’s work for a day’s pay, and that goes for both sides.  We used to want to work hard for the company that we worked for, and in so many cases, people worked for the same company for 40 years, and those companies cared about their people.  Somewhere, it all changed.  We used to care about family time more than just how do I take a picture and post it on Facebook to show what a great family we are.  Vacations gave us that time to spend together, that brief time out of a busy year to be together, and we didn’t care where the destination was, but now, it has to be Disney, Cancun, Hawaii or whatever exotic place we can brag about visiting.  Cars, clothes, shoes didn’t define us, our work ethic and families defined us. 

We’ve changed, not sure when or why we changed, but we changed.  There are still pockets of greatness.  I’m in such awe and envy of one of my colleagues, Brent Shadix, who has a hunting/fishing place he takes his family to.  He has pictures in his office of his grandchildren fishing, and I just have to smile, seeing those little children learning how to hunt and fish.  Sadly, I’ve never taken any of my children hunting or fishing, they have no clue how to do this, and they missed out on some of the greatest opportunities to interact with nature as a family.  I love to see the Brennan/Trice/Stevens family on our street.  Three generations, holidays are special, they always get together and celebrate the holidays as a family.  I watch some of my cousins, from a distance, and see how important hard work and family is to them.  They had that instilled in them, and that hasn’t changed. 

So it makes me laugh when we have a politician making claims of “I’m going to make America great again”.  Sorry, no politician can or will make us great again, and I’m really not sure if we will ever be great again.  Many “dynasties” have come before us, Rome, France, England, and so many have fallen.  I hate to sound pessimistic, but somewhere along the way, our decline has started.  We are not great, and I’m not sure we have what it takes to be great again.  We’ve lost what was important.  We can blame our politicians, but we need to be looking in the mirror if we want to know why America isn’t great anymore.

One last thing, and then I’m done.  For those of you who will say I’m just un-American or too critical of this great country or just an old guy on a rant (that may be true), let me tell you, I still love this country dearly, and that will never change.  Let me take you back to the Super Bowl.  Remember Lady Gaga singing the National Anthem?  I think everybody does, it was incredible.  What do I remember?  I remember  the Armed Forces singing America the Beautiful.  It was so incredible, it brought me to tears, but then again, every single time I hear America the Beautiful, it brings me to tears.   But we can’t just listen to the song, we can’t just sing it, we need to remember what it said, what it meant, what we live and believe.  So I’ll close with the last stanza, which I hope isn’t an omen, but it is such a great verse:

O Beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam,
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

Absence of Hope

A few years ago, Laurel and some of the other ladies from church took on the challenge of helping a young, single mother (let’s call her Betty) try to get her life in order.  To make a very long and difficult story short, it really didn’t work out very well.  While Laurel and the other ladies tried their best to help build a home for Betty and her children, the concept of “home” just  became way too elusive and never came to fruition.

Betty had so many strikes against her, so many issues, it became an insurmountable challenge to “change her life”.  Betty had led a very difficult life from the beginning.  Her mother had killed her father, and was in jail.  Betty had unfortunately been involved in a robbery as the getaway driver, and had spent some time in prison.  She had four different children from four different fathers, and none of them was around.  She was trying though, she was trying to get her life together.  She was working at a Burger King and taking three different buses to get to work each day.  She lived in low income housing and tried to make a life for her children.  With so many strikes against her, with so many obstacles, without regular and reliable transportation or childcare, it just wasn’t working out, and eventually, the group of ladies from the church, including Laurel, finally gave up.  It was just too much for them.

I really don’t want to focus on this portion of the story though, I want to focus on the children.  Over the past year or two, we’ve seen a great deal of tragedy in our country, whether it’s been in Baltimore, New York, or Ferguson, we’ve seen tragedy, we’ve seen young people getting killed, we’ve seen rioting, we’ve seen looting, burning, unconscionable behavior by many people.  It’s exploded in the news and it’s exploded in social media, and you see very polarizing comments or opinions from all sides.  I’ve hesitated for a long time to weigh in, simply because it’s been so polarizing, and no one seems to be able to look at these situations rationally, but I did want to weigh in eventually. 

Now, having said that, I don’t want to weigh in on whether we have an issue with rogue police officers or whether the rioters were justified or right in what they did, or so many of the issues that have been raised during these crises.  What I want to weigh in on is the issue of hope, or lack thereof, that to me is the central theme of all of this.  Whether we like it or not in “upper middle class America”, we have given so many of these people, so many of these children, absolutely no hope for a future.  You can say what you will on so many of the issues or arguments surrounding these crises, but the point that burns my ass more than any is when people make the comment, “they have as much of an opportunity as I do to succeed in life”.  Really?  Can we truly say that when we look at the demographics, when we look at what so many of these young people face in the inner city, whether it’s Baltimore, Atlanta, New York, wherever it is?  They have just as much opportunity as we have?

So, let’s go back to Betty’s children.  But first, let’s take a glimpse into the upbringing of my own children, and let’s focus on my two sons, Patrick and Sean.  Patrick and Sean went to private Christian schools.  Patrick and Sean had the opportunity to play sports as children, soccer and baseball.  They had video games, they had a pet, they had bicycles, generally they led very normal upper middle class lives.  They both went to private universities.

Betty’s children?  They moved 4-6 times per year.  They moved from school to school depending on where Betty could find low income housing.  They only experienced toys or games to play with when they received them from donations or churches.  They didn’t know their father.  They knew various “uncles”.  They never played, and most likely never will, organized sports because your parent needs to get you there after school.  They never have had, and most likely never will, a pet, a bicycle, video games, or anything that my sons have had.

I’m sorry, but I struggle with how Betty’s children have any hope of making something out of their lives compared to Patrick and Sean.  Just like many parents, Laurel and I have done our best to give Patrick and Sean every opportunity to succeed in life.  We’ve done what many have expressed – we want our children to have a better life than we did.  I’m not saying Betty hasn’t, but Betty’s main concern all of her life has been survival.  She’s been focused on making it through another day, and getting her children through another day.  While I would never blame Betty for where she is in her life and the impact on her children, what hope do her children possibly have for a better future?

As I sit here and write this, I think of those dear, sweet children starting out their lives.  So many of them full of life, full of hope.  I don’t have any grandchildren yet, but I think of some of those beautiful young babies that I see some of my relatives and friends posting on Facebook.  Laurel’s niece, Heather, has four wonderful young boys, the youngest of which is Nicholas.  I guess since he’s the baby, he gets most of the pictures these days (someday the other boys will complain to you, I’m sure Heather!).  I think of him, that sweet face, that smile, and I imagine, what if…. What if he were an African-American baby born in Baltimore, or Atlanta, or Ferguson?  What hope would Nicholas have?  I imagine my lovely niece Heather saying a prayer, talking to Nicholas when she put him to bed at night, holding that sweet face in her hands and I imagine something like this:

“Nicholas, I love you so much.  I wish I could give you a better life, but I’m so sorry, your life will probably be so full of pain.  We will be moving soon, you still won’t have your own bedroom, you’ll have to share it with Noah, Colin and Evan.  We won’t be able to take any of your toys with us, we can’t fit them.

I wish your father would come to see you, but I have no idea where he is, it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him, he’s probably in jail.    I know you’d love to play baseball, you would be so good!  We just don’t have the time to do that.  Someday, maybe I can get you a bicycle if the nice people at the churches in the suburbs pick us as a family they want to take care of to feel good about themselves.

I hope you can eventually finish high school, it may be hard depending on where we have to move to.  You will have to deal with gangs, I hope you can stay out of a gang, but that may be hard, it’s so hard to avoid the gangs in this neighborhood.  You either have to be in one or terrorized by one, it’s not an easy choice.

If you make it through high school, I hope you can get a job at one of the stores or factories in the area.  You will have to work close to home, on the bus line because you will most likely never be able to afford a car. 

You will most likely lose at least one of your brothers, they will either get killed, or they will end up in jail.  I hope and pray you can avoid both of these.  If you are really lucky, you will live a long life, you will stay out of jail, and you will be able to work at a nice job that will pay you minimum wage or a little more throughout your life.  You will never be able to adequately support your family, if you ever have one, but it will be better than the life I was able to give you.

I wish I could give you more than this, I wish I could give you hope in life, but all I can give you is my love.  You are so precious, you deserve so much more, but I can’t give you anymore.  You have no hope for a better future.”

What Is Your Bling?

A few years ago, our pastor did a sermon that led with the quote above from Mary J. Blige.  It’s easy to criticize Ms. Blige for the comment, I’m not quite sure God has an affinity to make sure she, or anyone else, should have their bling.  She isn’t the only one that has a belief that God wants them to have prosperity, there are many people these days that believe going to church and/or praying will reward them with material wealth. 

Of course I can be a bit critical of others and their view of religion and what it does or should mean to them, so let me turn this back on myself for a second.  First, let’s start with some of the things that can be “bling” to each of us.  Many fall into the normal areas of bling, jewelry of course, as appears to be the case with Ms. Blige, based on her quote.  Many succumb to cars, fancy cars, fast cars, luxurious cars, big pick-up trucks.  Many collect clothes or shoes and have extensive wardrobes.  Fancy houses?  Designer purses, designer dogs, watches, sunglasses, there are many ways we seek out our bling to keep us happy.

So back to me, I always have been somewhat critical of all of those people who need some of these material goods to make them happy.  I started thinking though, what’s my bling?  God knows, I’m far from perfect, it can’t be that I am above all of this.  Of course, I’m not, I have my own various forms of bling.  Let me count the ways:

• Our yard – Laurel can, and she knows this, tell me anything is needed for the yard, doesn’t matter the cost, and I’ll say yes. Money is no object when it comes to our yard, I will say yes to anything. I love our yard, I love it to look good, and I will spare no expense to make it so.
• Running shoes – I have three pair of running shoes. All are in relatively good shape. Two are identical pairs of Brooks. Seriously, who needs three pair of running shoes? The worst part is I’m starting to get that feeling, “I need to go to Fleet Feet and look at some new running shoes!” I have a monkey on my back.
• Starbucks – This is by far my most embarrassing bling. I love Starbucks. I have gotten to the point I go there almost every day. I keep trying to quit, but I just can’t. Seriously, who needs a cup of coffee that costs almost $4 every day? This is a completely ridiculous indulgence, but I can’t help myself.

When you start doing the math, I probably spend at least $2,000/year on these indulgences.  Do I really need this stuff?  Am I any better or different than Mary J. Blige in wanting or needing my bling?  Maybe I don’t come out and say it, say God wants me to have this, but I still have my bling, maybe not in the same form as she has, but it’s still bling.

So what’s your bling?  What are those things you “gotta have”, even though you really don’t need them?  And what could we/should we do with all of that money we would save if we didn’t have our bling?

It's My Party, And I'll Cry If I Want To

Recently my good friend and fellow Republican, John Ey, sent me an article from the Wall Street Journal titled, “Let’s Elect Hillary Now”.  Basically, the article distills down the premise that many in the Republican Party really don’t want to win, they want to stand by their deep-rooted ultra-conservative convictions, and complain for the next four to eight years about how awful the Democratic President is.  It further states that continuing to alienate the huge number of Hispanics and African Americans , and now Muslims, in the United States essentially guarantees losing the election.  As Republicans, we want to create a gated community and keep everyone out that doesn’t hold to our beliefs.  We would rather be right and lose than ever compromise or moderate to attract those potential voters that aren’t quite as far right as we are.

Let’s take a short walk back through history, and take a look at the Presidents we’ve had over the last few decades.  One of the discussions I like to have is “who would you say has been a great President in your lifetime?”  Since I was born in 1960, I start with John F. Kennedy and work my way through Barack Obama.  What’s great about this type of discussion is that it’s purely opinion, and as many say, opinion is the lowest form of thought, you really don’t have to put much into it, because, it is simply your opinion.  When I do this exercise, I come up with two Presidents I would say qualify as great Presidents.  Think about that, two Presidents?  In 55 years, in the greatest nation in the world, two great Presidents.  To me, that is incredibly sad.  Let’s take a brief look at my opinion and briefly why I hold those opinions:

·     John F. Kennedy – He may have become a great President, but he only served in office until he was tragically assassinated. I don’t believe a 2 ½ year body of work is enough to determine if he would have been great or not, he was a mixed review at that point.
·         Lyndon Johnson – Vietnam War and the handling of it were his downfall.
·         Richard Nixon – I really believe he was great at foreign affairs, but that Watergate thing is just a little too much.  You can’t commit a crime in office and be considered a great President.
·         Gerald Ford – The economy killed him and the handling of the Nixon pardon didn’t set well with many.
·         Jimmy Carter – Probably the greatest former President, but probably one of the worst Presidents.  Economy killed him, this was a dismal four years.
·         Ronald Reagan – This was my first vote, and it was a special moment for me.  I was so excited to vote for the first time, and I was happy to help vote Jimmy Carter out of office.  I believe Ronald Reagan was a great President, he did an outstanding job in his eight years.  These were some of the best days in US history, at least in my US history.
·         George Bush – I loved George Bush, but I really don’t believe he was a great President.  Again, the economy was his downfall.
·         Bill Clinton – When he was in office, I despised the man.  I thought he was evil, I thought he was a liar, I thought he played the American public.  But, I would have to say, he was a great President.  So painful to say it, but he did a great job in his eight years in office.  While some would say Whitewater and Monica Lewinsky should disqualify him, I still have to say he was a great President.
·         George W. Bush – I voted for him both times, but I think he ranks up there with Jimmy Carter as one of our worst Presidents ever.  To be honest, if the Democrats would have run anyone reasonably qualified, I may have considered voting for them.  I really don’t believe he was that astute, and I believe he mishandled a great deal of our foreign affairs issues.
·         Barack Obama – Unlike many of my Republican colleagues, I don’t believe he has done that badly as President.  My biggest issue with him is that he has not tried to work with his Republican colleagues to improve our country, but I could say the same about them.  While many view the Affordable Care Act as a bad thing, I really don’t believe he had much choice, the insurance industry and drug companies have been screwing us for years, and something had to be done.  This may not have been the answer, but it’s better than what we’ve faced over the 20 years or so before that.

Again, all opinion, I’m sure many would disagree with my assessment, and that’s OK.  I’m not the most politically astute person, and again, it’s just my opinion.  Let me ask you though, and now I’m talking to my fellow Republicans.  When was the last time you were excited to go into the voting booth and vote for a Republican candidate?  Were you excited to vote for John McCain?  Mitt Romney?  Bob Dole?  George W. Bush?  I was excited to vote for George Bush, but it was probably more because I liked him rather than he was a good candidate.  The last good candidate I voted for, and really got excited to vote for, was Ronald Reagan.  Think about that.  That was in 1984, over 30 years ago.  I’ve voted straight Republican since I could vote in 1980, but it’s been over 30 years since I’ve really enjoyed voting for a Republican candidate.

So let me ask you, are you excited by any of the candidates we have in front of us now?  Who would you feel really good about voting for, and more importantly, who do you really believe could beat Hillary Clinton?  To be honest, I’m not sure any of them can possibly beat Hillary Clinton.  In the article I cited above, they noted that the Republican party has hit a low similar to the low the Democratic party hit in 1972 when they ran George McGovern for President (unfortunately I’m old enough to remember how badly that went for them).  The sad part is that at this point, there is no turning back, it has to be one of the collection of clowns that are left.  Whether you really like or believe in any of these candidates, do you really believe they can win?  Because unless you are one of those happy to sit on the sidelines and just complain, winning is the most important thing.

Many of them can be thrown out easily, they have no chance of getting the nomination, and they have no chance of winning.  I’m going to make an assumption, the only ones who have any chance are Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio and Jeb Bush.  Let’s take them one by one, starting with the least likely:

·         Jeb Bush – Very likely, he wouldn’t get the nomination, can’t see any way he could possibly win, for many reasons, even for name alone.  The Bush name, largely due to George W. is very negative, and he’d have no chance of winning a general election.

·         Marco Rubio – At this point, the candidate I would run, because I think he would have the best chance of beating Hillary Clinton. I also like him better than most of the candidates.
·         Ted Cruz – To me, he is much too far right wing, conservative and spouts too much conservative Christian rhetoric to win the general election.  Still he would probably be my second choice because I believe he has the best chance, along with Marco Rubio, of potentially beating Hillary Clinton.
·         Donald Trump – I believe, and I would also hope, he would have zero chance of winning the nomination or general election.  While he may have some business intelligence, I really don’t believe he has much political intelligence.  I also believe he is incredibly evil, and does not deserve to serve as the leader of one of the greatest nations in the world.  He has insulted women, Muslims, African Americans, Hispanics, disabled people, overweight people, the only people that seemed to have been saved from his wrath are fit, white, Christian males.  I think his ranking in the Republican polls shows how far the Republican party has fallen.  While I would still vote Republican for probably any other viable candidate, I would not only vote for Hillary Clinton over him, I would actively campaign for her (I can’t believe I’m saying this, as much as I despised Bill, I despise Hillary even more).   I have that low of an opinion of Donald Trump, he is an incredibly bad joke as a candidate for President. 

A few years ago, I wrote letters to the Republican National Committee and to my local Congressman to express my displeasure at how the Republican Party had allowed the Tea Party and other ultra-conservative right wing groups to take over the party and lead us down the road we are on.  While we can feel good about our beliefs and the fact we are right, it does absolutely no good if you can’t win an election.  It all comes down to numbers.  If you alienate Hispanics, African Americans, Muslims and even moderate Republicans like me, how can you possibly win a general election?  The math just doesn’t work.  Sadly for me, the RNC and my Congressman never responded to me.  It really didn’t surprise me, even though I’m a lifelong Republican, my voice really doesn’t matter or really isn’t heard.

That’s where the article “Let’s Elect Hillary Now” really hit me.  I’m tired of being the silent side of the Republican Party who lets the ultra-conservatives take over the party and get their way.  I really believe that so many of them just want something to bitch about, they want to feel good about being right while the Democrats get four or eight more years in office.  We need to run someone who has a legitimate chance of winning the election.  I really believe that none of the collection of boobs that are out there has a chance, absent Marco Rubio, and maybe Ted Cruz, but I still have little hope that any of them can beat Hillary Clinton.  We have become too set in our ways, too obstinate, too unwilling to compromise.  We will have to be happy sitting on the sidelines, criticizing the new regime, smug in our knowledge of how to properly run the country. 

Last point and then I’m done.  I remember the glory days, when we could laugh at the crazy people in the Democratic Party and the stupid things they would say.  Now, we have as many crazy people making similar stupid comments, and in many cases, more of them.  We are like the Democratic Party of 1972, we have fallen so far, and I’m not sure how we recover.  We have become a joke, a very bad joke, and we have a collection of clowns, led by the king of clowns, Donald Trump, to lead us.    

Why I'm Not a Christian

“Why doesn’t their flesh creep? How can they devoutly believe everything they hear in church and then say the things they do and listen to the things they hear without throwing up? I thought I was a Christian but I’m not. I’m something else and I don’t know what. Everything I have ever taken for right and wrong these people have taught me – these same, these very people. So it’s me, it’s not them. Something has happened to me.”  Jean Louise “Scout” Finch in Harper Lee’s “Go Set a Watchman”

I recently read this book, and the passage above really struck me. For the last several months I’ve been feeling the same way about the church. Before anyone gets too excited, I’m not talking about my church, or any church in particular, I’m talking about the Christian church, or at least the US variety of the Christian church.

And before anyone gets too excited, I would prefer to be a devoted follower of Jesus Christ rather than a Christian, that would be my “something else”. Now, you may believe this is purely semantics, but I would beg to differ, and I’ll eventually get there.

Recently we had the opportunity to watch a sermon series by Andy Stanley titled “Brand:New”. The series was phenomenal, and the basic premise of it centered on Matthew 22:36-40. When Jesus was asked, what was the greatest commandment, He replied:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Pastor Stanley further distills it down and says, God is OK with us not loving Him with our whole heart, He’s God of course, the most important commandment, the most important thing for us to do, is to love our neighbor as ourselves. It’s that easy, and it’s that hard. All we have to do is love our neighbors, but who are our neighbors, and can we really love them?

Sitting in the pews, we can love those across the aisles. OK, we can love most of the people across the aisles, there are certain ones that really irritate us. Then there are the ones who sit in the pews down the street. You know, the Baptists, the Catholics, those liberal Presbyterians. Not easy to love any of them with some of their crazy ideas and ways of worshipping. Then there are the Muslims, the Hindus, the Jews. Jesus of course didn’t mean any of them, why on earth would we love them?

But He did. He meant all of those people, and He also meant the menagerie of ethnic groups in our world, He meant homosexuals, He meant all the different nationalities, He meant Republicans and Democrats, He meant everyone, He even meant Donald Trump. Everyone is our neighbor. OK, that’s not so easy, it’s way too hard to love all those people.

So, as Christians, we struggle with loving our neighbor as ourselves. Unfortunately, Jesus said a whole lot more, and maybe He just didn’t understand how the world was going to change and how hard any of this would be to live by. In Matthew 25:40, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me”. He didn’t qualify it, He didn’t say, “make sure they are really the least of these brothers and sisters of mine”. We often get hung up on whether those begging in the streets are truly poor, and we get hung up on whether those on welfare are really deserving of welfare. We complain about helping those in need in foreign countries when there are so many in need in our own country. Why does it have to be either/or? Why can’t we help both? As many of us sit here fretting over having enough money in our 401(k) plans to retire comfortably, there are many who are wondering if they will have anywhere to sleep tonight, let alone sleep comfortably.

Unfortunately, as Christians, we also have that intense need inside of us to judge others. Jesus was pretty clear on this topic in at least a couple places. In Matthew 7:5, Jesus said, “You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye”. And in John 8:7, Jesus said, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her”. We can’t judge one another? As hard as it is to admit, we all do it at one time or another, and unfortunately in many cases, so frequently. Some believe homosexuals don’t belong in church unless they stop their sinful ways. Some believe divorced people don’t belong. Many believe and say Catholics are not going to Heaven, they are not really Christians. Those are but a few examples of how we judge one another. Many of us believe we have a secret insight, maybe kind of like Santa Claus’ list of “who is naughty or nice”, and we can determine who gets into Heaven and who doesn’t. I’m not quite sure how any of us have a right to judge what the criteria is for getting into Heaven, and if it rests on whether you sin or not, I’m pretty confident we all lose.

In Matthew 16:24-26, Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life, will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?” Can you just imagine some of the conversations modern-day Christians would have with Jesus? “Jesus, I know you came down to this earth, you were beaten, tortured, humiliated, crucified all for my sins, but you know, sometimes people make fun of me for being a Christian. And sometimes people don’t like it when I say Merry Christmas, and they aren’t Christian. Those things can really hurt my feelings. You just don’t understand how hard it can be sometimes.”

I think Christianity has lost its way, at least in the US. We have this distorted view that the United States is a Christian nation, even though our Founding Fathers founded this nation based on religious freedom. We want to legislate Christianity, we want to make it a part of how we govern the nation and a prerequisite for those running our country. We even want to make it a prerequisite for getting into this country. Religion has no place in politics, just as politics has no place in religion. Just as I wouldn’t want the Koran to be displayed on the Courthouse lawn, I also don’t want the 10 Commandments displayed on the Courthouse lawn. There should be a clear separation of church and state, and when those two paths cross, it is typically when someone wants to persecute or discriminate against someone in the name of God.

It’s much too easy for us to be Christians in the US, our lives are so good. How could we not be thankful when we have everything? We have become spoiled, we want everything, and we have forgotten what Christianity is all about. We believe that prosperity and Christianity go hand in hand. If we worship, if we praise God, God will bless us with abundance. We will get all of the toys, the stuff, the good grades that we need to make us happy. “God is good, I got what I wanted for Christmas!”

Have you ever gone to a foreign country where there is poverty beyond anything you can imagine? What amazed me was the level of faith and worship that some of those people showed. They had nothing, they lived in squalor, but they would get dressed up, walk for miles, and spend hours worshipping God. They had nothing worldly to be thankful for, but they worshipped God with thanksgiving and gladness and with all of their hearts.

That is a devoted follower of Jesus Christ. People who have nothing, have nothing really to be thankful for other than the lives they have been given, devoutly worshipping and praising God. There are people around the world, who risk their lives to worship Jesus Christ, they are devoted followers of Jesus Christ. There are missionaries who put themselves at risk on a daily basis, who put their mission above personal gain or their own well-being. There are people in our own communities who put their own lives aside to help those less fortunate and who are in need. Being a devoted follower of Jesus Christ is serious business, it means “denying yourself, taking up the cross and following Jesus”. It’s not the cafeteria style Christianity we have morphed into.

So am I a devoted follower of Jesus Christ? Hardly, I sadly fall into the definition of a classic Christian. I guess the title of my blog should have been “Why I Wish I Weren’t a Christian”. I could give you so many examples of where I fail miserably, where I fit all of the descriptions I elaborated above. What bothers me so much is that we used to be, and we should be, so much better than this. We used to care about others, those less fortunate, but we’ve become so jaded, so concerned for our own well-being. I still don’t plan to give up. As I grow older, the visions of the homeless, the poor, the less fortunate, pain me more and more. I still do so little, but I can’t give up. In closing, there is one more Bible verse that continues to run through my head, and it’s one that has been etched into my memories for many, many years. It is Micah 6:8 and it says:

And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy

and to walk humbly with your God.

So simple, and yet, so hard.

This Isn't My First Rodeo

Last weekend I had the honor to serve as Father of the Bride for my daughter Kelly’s wedding to Clayton Crowe.   It was a little over four years ago that I had the opportunity to do the same for my daughter Megan’s wedding to Thomas McDonald, so I knew what how special this weekend would be.  Being the Father of the Bride is an incredible experience, it probably ranks up there close to getting married myself and seeing the birth of my children, it is that special.

Having experienced it before, I wanted this time to be extra special.  I knew that this would be my last time getting to give one of my daughters away, and I knew how much I enjoyed it the first time, and I wanted everything to be perfect this time.  This was probably a bit of a problem for me, I stressed too much on it being perfect, and didn’t enjoy the lead-up to the wedding.  It was much better for Megan and Thomas’ wedding, the wedding took place in Chicago, I was completely out of the planning, which was much better.  Having said all of that, Kelly and Clayton’s wedding was perfect, it was one of the highlights of my life.

There are so many highlights, so many special moments from the weekend, but I’ll just mention a few:

·         The weather did not cooperate!  The wedding was supposed to be outside, but due to rain, we had to hold it inside.  Kelly and Clayton had chosen a great wedding venue, the Payne-Corley House in Duluth, Georgia (http://paynecorleyhouse.com).  The staff there did a fantastic job converting the room quickly to go from a wedding to a reception.  You can’t control the weather, you just have to deal with it.

·         The young ladies in the Bridal Party were fantastic.  They were the ones who did the heavy lifting over the weekend.  They did all the preparation, nails, hair, dresses, they got very little down time, they did everything necessary to be even more beautiful than they already were, and they did it without any complaints.

·         The men?  They golfed.  OK, the weather wasn’t good, it rained and was cold, and they were incredibly upbeat even with less than ideal weather conditions.  It was so nice to be around such a nice group of young men, who were so full of life.

·         We had friends and family who came from near and far for the wedding.  We had friends from church, friends from WIKA, family from Colorado, North Carolina, Washington and Indiana come for the event.  While I never like to focus on any one group or person more than others, I was so appreciative that we had six members of my Small Group from Dayton, Ohio, and spouses, come to the wedding.  They have been a special part of my life for almost 20 years, and I can’t imagine my life without them.

·         It was special for me that my Mom was able to be there.  As your parents get older, and you start losing them, it means so much when you can share those special days with them.  I was so happy she got to be there to see Kelly and Clayton get married as well as spend time with her various children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

·         Our sons, Patrick and Sean, sang before the wedding.  They sang two songs that Kelly had chosen, A Thousand Years and Come Thou Fount.  As Thomas McDonald pointed out, Patrick and Sean have sang at Megan and Kelly’s weddings, who will sing at their weddings?  He voted for Megan and Kelly.  I think they will disagree.

·         The best man, Joe Wagner, gave an incredible toast.   Joe has been a huge part of Kelly and Clayton’s lives, and he captured it so well.  Kelly and Clayton are really blessed to have Joe in their lives.

·         As I’ve said before, and the advice I’ve given other Fathers of the Bride, savor every moment.  The night will go by very quickly, enjoy every moment, slow down the night as much as possible, because it will be over before you know it.  I did everything possible to slow it down, but it still went by too quickly.

·         The next morning, we got up about 7 am and went over to the Hampton Inn where most people were staying and spent some more time with friends and family, celebrating the night and getting those last few moments together.  When you see each other so few times, it’s so hard to say goodbye, but that time is inevitable.

For those who know me, there are three major potential emotional times for me.  The first was walking Kelly down the aisle.  Since I had practice at this, I knew my best option was staring straight ahead, not making any eye contact with anyone, and getting this portion over as quickly as possible.  I faltered a bit, but did OK.

The second was giving the Father of the Bride speech.  Now, I didn’t have any practice with this.  Much to Megan’s dismay, I never gave a Father of the Bride speech at Megan’s wedding because I just didn’t know this was standard protocol.  When they asked me if I wanted to do one, I said, “No, that’s OK.”  So I practiced several times before the wedding, and each time, I broke down somewhere during the speech.  I knew I wouldn’t get through it completely, but I would give it my best.  Since my Mom had a hard time hearing what I said, here is a copy of my speech:

Hello, I’m Steve McCullough

Some of you who know me have said, “You’re really holding up well, we anticipated you would be emotional by now.”  Well this isn’t my first rodeo, I know there’s plenty of opportunities for me to break down, including giving this speech.

First of all, on behalf of Connie Brewer, Wayne Crowe, and my wife Laurel, we’d like to thank all of the friends and family who have come to help celebrate the wedding of Clayton and Kelly.  Some of you have traveled great distances to be here, and we really appreciate everyone being here, it means a lot to us.

Last Saturday, I decided to go to the Internet to try to figure out what I should say today.  I found one of those sites on You Tube that outlined a Father of the Bride speech, and it said, “you should start writing your speech six months before the wedding”.  Since I only had six days, I shut down the internet, and decided I had to wing it.

For those who know me, I much prefer the written word to the spoken word, so I’ve pretty much written my speech out.  I do realize that I’m the last thing before you all get to eat, so I’ll be brief.

First I have to apologize to Kelly and Clayton.  I couldn’t figure out how to work Franklin into my speech, so here is my gratuitous favorite picture of Franklin.

From the beginning, Kelly was our Little Angel from Heaven.  When she was little, we’d say in the evening, “Kelly, are you ready to go to bed?”  She’d run back to her crib, and hold her arms up, and we’d put her in her crib, and she’d go right to sleep.  She was a perfect baby and little girl. 

As she grew, she developed an incredible personality and huge smile that could win over anyone.  She was always a favorite at daycare and school, and I remember the one time they did one of those activities that they do at daycare with the children, and part of it was “what do you want to be when you grow up?”.  So they had posted all of these around the room, and we were looking at each of them, and it was fairly standard, one wanted to be an astronaut, one wanted to be a baseball player, one wanted to be a policeman.  Then we came upon one and laughed and laughed.  This one wanted to be a Toys-R-Us Kid when they grew up!  Then we saw the name.

As Kelly grew older, she developed a deep passion for sports, particularly college basketball.  Her deepest passion though is for the Duke basketball team.  I remember coming home the one day, and I looked down into the family room, and there was Kelly, lying on the couch crying.  I went down and asked, “Kelly what’s wrong?”  She wiped her eyes and sobbed, “Duke’s down by 10 with 8 minutes to go.”

As Kelly grew up, she would tell me periodically that she was my favorite daughter, and I would correct her and say, “You’re my favorite youngest daughter.”  We’ve continued to carry that tradition forward, and Kelly, you will always be my favorite youngest daughter, I love you very much, I’m very proud of you, and you look beautiful today.  And you have far surpassed your goal of being a Toys-R-Us Kid.

 When we first met Clayton, I knew he was something special.  How did I know?  Animals are often the best judges of character.  We had a dog at the time, Minnie, and she was the sweetest dog in the world.  I know of at least two people in this room, my brother Jim and Jim Dyer, who can attest to Minnie’s sweetness.  In any event, when Clayton came over, he was the world to Minnie.  She would claim him as her own, she’d sit on the foot stool right with Clayton and even try to climb into his lap.  She loved him.

As we grew to know Clayton, we found he was incredibly hard working.  He worked hard at his main job, he had a second job at Sears for many years, he got his MBA, he played I think every intramural sport known to man.  He’s also started writing articles and blog posts about sports, mainly college and professional basketball, that are really good, if you haven’t had a chance to see them.  I really hope that someday he gets to fulfill my dreams of becoming a sports writer, but we shall see.  He also has an obsession with the TV show Full House, that I still haven’t figured out, but that’s another matter.

A few months ago, I got an e-mail out of the blue from Clayton that asked if I was going to be home that night?  I told him no, I was out of town.  I didn’t hear anything back, so I didn’t think too much of it.  A few nights later, Laurel and I were sitting out back, and heard the doorbell ring, and it was Clayton.  He came in and starting talking, and he was talking faster and faster, and really wasn’t saying anything, so I couldn’t figure out what he was doing there.  And then it hit me.  Wait a second, could this be?  And then we heard those words, and he asked us if he could ask Kelly to marry him. 

You know, as a parent, you always hope and pray that your children find that one special person, the person they can love, the person who will love them back, their soulmate, that they can live the rest of their lives with.  We were blessed four years ago when Megan and Thomas got married, and we’re blessed now.  We couldn’t ask for a better man to marry Kelly.

Well, I’ve run out of paper and words.  All that’s left is, I’d like to ask you all to raise your glasses to Clayton and Kelly.  To my Little Angel from Heaven, to the wonderful young man who stole her heart, may God bless your marriage, may you grow to be soulmates, and may you have a long and wonderful life together. 

Did I make it through without breaking down?  No, I struggled at a few parts, which I knew I would, but that’s OK. 

The third was the Father of the Bride dance.  This was bad enough for me at Megan’s wedding, I cried like a baby, but this one was going to be even harder.  Patrick and Sean had written a song for the Father of the Bride dance, and it wasn’t until about four hours before the wedding that I heard part of it.  When I did, there was little doubt, I would be crying.  When they introduced the song, the boys pointed out that I asked them to write a song for the wedding while Sean was in Florida and Patrick was in Georgia at school.  Patrick wrote the lyrics, Sean wrote the music, no pressure at all.  I could have pointed out,   they had about five weeks this summer when they were both home that they could have done this if they wouldn’t have procrastinated, but I won’t go there.  Anyway, here were the lyrics to the song they wrote:

Last Dance

Verse:

All I ask for is one more chance,
One more moment, one last dance.
In that time before I let go
I’ll remember how you make my heart glow.
And then we’ll separate.
He’ll hold you in his arms.
I know he can’t wait.
But give me this moment,
Give me this dance
To hold my dear daughter
With these worn hands.

Chorus:

And how can it be that yesterday
You were hanging on to me
Like I was a mighty limb?
And now you’ve found someone to dance with
In sickness and health,
In joy and despair?
Make no mistake, don’t be confused.
I’m so very happy, but slightly bemused.
So let this last dance be my adjustment.
When you have kids, you’ll understand.

Verse:

Now it’s ending, we’ve come this far.
But here our paths fork right where we are.
Don’t be discouraged, don’t you fret.
Be always smiling, and don’t you forget
Give me this moment,
Give me this dance
To hold my dear daughter
With these worn hands

Oh yeah, I cried.  It was a beautiful moment, you envision those times when your daughter was a little girl, when you were the most important man in her life, and you see her now, as a beautiful young woman heading off to a life of her own.  All of those emotions come flowing together into a difficult but very wonderful moment.  It was all so worth it. 

So that was my last rodeo.  I’ve given away two beautiful, incredible daughters, but I’ve received two amazing son-in laws.  I couldn’t imagine two better young men to welcome to our family.  When Sean and Patrick eventually get married, it’s not the same being the Father of the Groom.  Much less pressure, much less stress, much less emotion.  I’ve had my time, I look forward to seeing some proud father get to be the Father of the Bride.  He will have earned it.