Death – Fuel For The Race

April 27, 2024April 28, 2024

Murder By Tongue

“That until the basic human rights,
Are equally guaranteed to all.
Without regard to race,
Dis a war.” (1976) “War” Recorded By: Bob Marley and The Wailers Composers: Allen Cole & Carleton Barrett

U.S Constitution Amendment I

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”

Bob Marley recorded “War” which lyrically, spells out the destruction of a nation, a race, and a peace and freedom concerning Africa’s hotbeds of war. If you look up the entire lyric of the song you will see his raving against the injustice of oppressions targeting the color of skin, tribal conquests, religions, and philosophy challenges as weapons of war and death.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Depending on where you get your news, you might not have heard the threats of death and torture of African American families living here in the U.S. Spilling out across university campuses from coast to coast are now public screams, hate-filled signs, and radical threats of genocide of peaceful Hindu citizens of the U.S. Cheers, along with, unison voices shouting out a call for all Asian Americans to be slaughtered, erased off of the face of the earth. Ivy league campuses are littered with tents where hate-mongers have camped out, sectioning off areas of publicly and privately financed grounds, occupying the area as if it’s a new community of those who chant, yell, and beat their chests demanding the removal of all Native American tribes from America. Just yesterday, one of the leaders of the murderous mob at Columbia University in New York, made his voice very clear in a speech on the campus as the cell phones and video cameras were rolling. He stated that all Presbyterians, Baptists, and Catholics have no reason to live. That’s right. He called for these congregants to be killed. He went on to say those groups of Christians should be thankful he wasn’t killing church members that day. Meanwhile, at various universities on the west coast revilers publicly marched, raising their fists in the air suggesting all people of the gay community be gathered forcibly and buried in the sands of the deserts of Utah. So much for liberal tolerance.

After reading the above, how do you feel? Are you one of the targeted? Do you know a black person, an Asian, a Native American, a Hindu family, a gay individual, a Christian?

All of the above has happened in recent days, with the exception of the targeted groups listed. Here, in the land of the free and home of the brave, where we pride ourselves as lovers of peace and liberty, are calls for the eradication of the Jews.

This hideous, evil, and destructive doctrine is currently spewing out of the mouths of our youth. One of these bright, enlightened university students held up a sign at one campus calling for, “The Final Solution…Genocide” written partially in red. We know that title from Hitler in Nazi Germany, calling for the gassing of the Jewish race.

Anti-Semitism is not only ugly, and downright monstrous, but it is also an ancient evil. It goes back to the beginning of when God singled out Abraham to birth a new nation, a nation He (God) would call, “His People”. Ever since, all throughout the biblical text, running through the echoes of time, there has been this evil doing all it can to dissolve the plan of God for human history, and His redemptive purposes. A soul’s spiritual rescue came through the Jews. Jesus was of the tribe of Judah. The Savior of the world was born of the family tree of King David of Israel. We have His genealogy recorded.

One might be tempted to say,

“Yeah, but where’s the harm? It’s only words. Here in America, we have the First Amendment. We are free to say anything.”

A non-thinking person would ask such a question. Forgive me, but it’s true. If a true calculating researcher delivers such a statement, then I would surely believe that person hasn’t truly searched out the authentic history of man, or has believed whatever has been said to them without due diligence of rightful education. In other words, look it up! Take the time.

Look at the historical records of the ancient life of Israel. Better yet, you only have to go back 100 years to see the facts.

Anti-Semitism does not stop with words.

The terrorists of Hamas can testify to this truth. Action always follows. Groupthink becomes the norm, the new god. Mob mentality germinates into trigger-pulling, sword-wielding, and button pushing as bombs detonate. As the tongues begin to murder families for being born Jewish, the violence and propaganda starts to migrate toward all who defend the Jews, or Israel.

Hey, Buffy, listen to this, “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.” Skippy follows up, “What do ya think? Cool, huh?” Before answering, Buffy, twirls her hair with her heart and rose tattooed index finger, not yet covered by the free Hijabs being handed out at the protest. “How cool, it rhymes. Sure, I’ll go shout with you, Skippy. So, what river and what sea are we shouting about?”

Sure, it can begin with the protesting of a war, covered by the First Amendment. It can first be disguised as a protest pointing out abuses, civil misconduct, or humanitarian shortages. It makes a good mask to draw a crowd, or non-thinkers who want to display some sort of social self-righteousness. Then, before you can say, indoctrination, it morphs into hate speech, calls for executions, and even imprisonment against the intended target. It’s a very subtle, sly, and slithery operation for the gullible. The First Amendment is mocked and used like a wet rag.

Suddenly, neighbor sees a neighbor as evil simply because they stand for the rights of the Jews. We learned this not too long ago when this plague of doctrine festered in the minds of young Germans in the 1930’s. Way too many at that time, looked the other way, pretending to be deaf, dumb, and blind. The cowards, and the deniers, do have blood on their hands.

Personally, I mourn for our nation. These current pretenders of “peaceful” protesting against the Jews is nothing short of…(yes, I will use the word)…demonic in nature.

Words kill. Words result in lifeless bodies piled in mass graves. Words swing swords.

Find out what it means to stand, like a beautiful girl named, Esther in fuel for the race.

“Then Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, ‘Do not imagine that you in the king’s palace can escape any more than all the other Jews. For if you keep silent at this time, liberation and rescue will arise for the Jews from another place, and you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not attained royalty for such a time as this?”’ Esther 4:13-14 (NAS)

March 27, 2024

See You Later

“See you later alligator,
After ‘while, crocodile.” (1956) “See you later, Alligator” Recorded By: Bill Haley & His Comets Composer: Robert Charles Guidry

Today, I attended the memorial service of an old friend who died way too soon. Her name was, Patt. (Yes, two “T’s” because she wanted to make it different. That’s the way Patt rolled.)

Patt was the big sister I never had. She was the sister of one of my best friends in high school. Patt was four years older than we were, so she treated us like we were in her way. You know, when I think of it, we probably were at that time in our lives. But I was very fond of Patt and happy to write, she was fond of me, too.

Patt was full of talent. She was a bit of what we used to call, “Tomboy”. She was a bit rough around the edges. A great athlete, musician, singer, songwriter, as her little brother was. Patt played the piano, the organ, the guitar, the banjo, the flute, and the violin. After college she became a physical education teacher, coach and referee. When the 1980’s hit, we lost track of one another as life took us in different directions. But her brother and I were always close, and remain so to this day. She was able to keep up with my life through her brother. Two years ago, we were at a family lunch for some Texas BBQ, and we spent some time catching up. I am so grateful for that moment in our lives.

A bit over a month ago, Patt fell ill. She was surprised to find out that she had stage 3 lung cancer. The doctors drained her lungs and told her it was still treatable. Just two weeks ago her status changed. She entered stage 4 lung cancer. A little over a week ago, she was admitted into ICU where her lungs were constantly being drained. Thursday, the 14th of March, she passed away. The entire ordeal still has our heads swimming. The speed of her illness was supersonic.

Her memorial service was beautiful, loving and honoring. She was a woman of faith. To define that, she was a follower of Jesus. Her brother, my friend, Mark sang an old, not well-known, John Denver song, “On The Wings Of A Dream”. It was extra sweet as she had willed him her Ovation guitar and used it in the service.

Photo: Mark Cannon with Patt’s Ovation guitar.

Patt’s body was all decked out for the open casket ceremony. And as usual, it, the body, didn’t look like Patt at all. It’s interesting, isn’t it? You often will hear that from other loved ones surrounding the open casket.

“Well, they did a good job on him/her, but it sure doesn’t look like him/her.”

I’ve attended many funeral services with an open casket. I have learned much from those moments standing there gazing down at the remains of a loved one. The main thing I have been educated on is the fact that when life leaves the body, it is incredibly noticeable. One minute, there is breath, along with blood pumping through the artwork of the network of vessels and veins, then the next minute, everything stops. Biblically, we understand that the “person”, the “soul”, the “spirit” which thrived inside the body vacates, leaving a shell, a house in which the person once lived. That person, disconnected from the body, is transported into an eternal place prepared where the old body, the shell, was not meant to reside. One theologian called this body our, “earth suit”. It’s just a suit made to clothe our soul/spirit while living on the planet. Scripture is very clear on this. The trusting believer in the risen Jesus is immediately translated to another realm where He is. That is where Patt moved to on Thursday, March 14th at 6:53pm, EST. At 6:52pm, she was in a failing body in an ICU room. The next minute, she, the person, the essence, the persona of Patt, was freed from it all as she was being held by her Redeemer as He lovingly said,

“Welcome home, Patt”.

I have friends who are without a faith in Jesus and His promises. They will grieve for Patt differently than I will. Why? Because to them, death is an idea that you just go blank like a prairie chicken death. Others have an idea Patt will float throughout the universe on a cushion of good intensions. (Gee, what fun, right?) While others feel Patt will go into a nirvana of an existence due to her being a great person of truly good efforts. They believe those things because they have rejected the scripture they have read, or heard of. So, because humanity was created to have eternity in mind, they make up any other scenario that sounds pleasant to their wandering, and wondering minds. So, yes, I grieve differently because I have the joy of the future in Jesus beyond this life.

Photo: My lovely wife, Michelle with me at Patt’s memorial service. (Can you tell I had been crying?)

If Patt were here she would type this out as well. She is there, by the side of Jesus, because of what He did on the cross for her, not because of what she has done. It was for the remission of her sins in life, and with it, the promise of new life eternally. Without her faith in Him, the spirit of Patt would be spent in darkness, away from God, away from her prepared place with Him. Jesus paved the way by vacating His own tomb on Easter morning. That tomb remains empty today in Jerusalem, just like the emptiness of Patt’s remains in that casket six feet under.

Photo: Patt Cannon Barrett

Ironically, Patt was buried on her birthday. She was born on this memorial service day, March 27, but spiritually born again when she was a teenager. That’s why Patt wasn’t buried today, only the old house, the shell, the cocoon in which she once lived.

Learning to replace, “Goodbye” with, “See you later” is taught in fuel for the race.

“For God loved the world in this way: so much that he would give up his Son, The Only One, so that everyone who trusts in him shall not be lost, but he shall have eternal life.” – Jesus – John 3:16 (Aramaic Bible In Plain English)

August 13, 2023

Where Was God In All This?

“The first cut is the deepest.
Baby, I know,
The first cut is the deepest.
But when it comes to being lucky, she’s cursed…” (1967) “The First Cut Is The Deepest” Composer: Cat Stevens (Recorded by various artists through the years.)

(Some dates listed are estimated.)

William and Roberta (Bird) Atherton had a sweet marriage. The century was young, and so were they. Country folk, both from good Oklahoma stock, they made their home in the countryside, surrounded by cattle and crops of wheat and barley, somewhere near the tiny farming community of Silo, OK. Will was a jolly sort, full of laughter and quick with a joke to spread his special brand of joy. His bride, Bird, born in 1889, was a bit more stoic than Will, and well-known for being an educated woman of her time. She was very intelligent for a girl raised on the farm with limited access to quality education. In fact, she was known for being very pro-women’s rights, and passionate concerning the suffrage movement, even marching in her community with a sign in her hand fighting for women’s right to vote, jury service, and access to good employment wages. Will was far more easy going, but stayed out of Bird’s way when it came to politics or the picket line. After all, in a small rural southern state, what she stood for wasn’t always popular in 1906.

Photo: (Mid-late 1940’s) Roberta “Bird” and William “Will” Atherton

The two lovebirds also had different views concerning religious doctrine. Bird was raised Methodist, while Will was a staunch Baptist. In their community, there was only one church building. On one Sunday a Methodist service was held, while the Baptist services would be conducted the following Sunday. You guessed it. Will never could get his bride to change denominations, and vise versa. So, they attended their own services separately. Later in life, their four kids would also swap in/out every-other Sunday. This continued until Will’s sudden death in 1951. Still, they had one thing in common. They both had Jesus as their Shepherd.

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A side note:

Around 1933, Will was helping out a friend at a Hunt County Texas county road gas station. They were both sitting outside the gas station when a dusty black Ford V-8 sedan pulled off the road straight up to the gasoline pump. A young dressed-up man got out of the driver’s side as Will got out of his chair to service his weary customer. A woman sat in the passenger side reading a newspaper. The man asked him to fill it up. Will did so. He also checked the tire pressure and cleaned off the bug graveyard of a windshield. The amount owed is unknown, but the average gasoline price at the time would have been hovering around 0.18 cents per gallon. If 12 gallons at 0.18/per, it would have put the bill at $2.16 total. (Imagine that.) Without asking for the total, the dashing man slipped Will a $20. After telling the man he would be right back with his change, the car drove off in a dusty cloud. Waving the road dust away from his face, Will mentioned it to his friend, saying the man must’ve been in a hurry. His friend responded with a question.

“Will, you don’t know who that was?” Will shrugged his shoulders. Then his friend revealed, “That was Clyde Barrow. The woman was Bonnie. They’ve been here before. He always leaves me a nice crisp bill.”

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In 1909, a joyous event took place in life as they welcomed the birth of their daughter, Pauline. Almost five years later, they welcomed their second, Robert. Soon after, a third baby was added to the growing family, a girl they named, Helen.

Being busy on the farm with three young children, Pauline became an instant babysitter and nanny. She took to it like a duckling on pond. She changed diapers, helped wash the clothes, and fed her baby sibs like a little mother.

Baby Helen was a very happy baby. Her smile and laughter reflected much of her dad’s personality. At two years old, Helen was the typical “terrible two” toddler. She not only clung to her big sister, but saw her as her playmate. There never was a time Pauline avoided sitting in the floor to play with Helen and her doll, or tossing a ball of yarn. Simultaneously, young Pauline was always there to assist her mother in any way she could, including getting the babies ready for bed. Keeping a two year old dressed, fed and entertained was a big job for a 7 year old.

Photo: (1916/1917) Helen Atherton

On a bitterly cold snowy night in 1916/1917 in Silo, OK, the clock over the fireplace chimed the signal for bedtime. Pauline had changed Helen’s diaper, dressed her in her cotton nightgown while encouraging her baby sister to pick up her doll and ball of yarn before taking her to bed. Mom was getting little Robert and herself ready for hitting the sack, adding extra quilts and iron bedwarmers for a frigid overnight. Dad was at work in the barn prepping the livestock for a chilly night.

In the busyness of it all, Pauline was unaware that Helen had tossed her yarn ball and chased after it, while releasing her infectious high-pitched cackle. The ball rolled close to the roaring fireplace. Pauline had her back turned, not realizing an ember launched out from the popping firewood, landing on the hem of baby Helen’s nightgown. Just then, the peaceful winter night was pierced by the horrific screams with intermittent sounds of silence as Helen tried to catch her breath to scream again. Pauline quickly turned to see a scene she would never erase from her memory. Her baby sister was shaking violently, sitting in the floor as the encroaching flames were consuming her gown. It is unclear what occurred at that moment. In the madness of the horrifying sight Pauline witnessed, she herself subconsciously blanked it out, unable to explain the seconds which followed. Some surmised Helen stood up and ran in panic out the front door as quickly as her little legs would carry her. Others suggested a panicked Pauline suddenly went into firefighting mode and somehow pulled her sister out the front door to get away from the house. Either way, the windy conditions in the Oklahoma plain that night fed the flames licking little Helen’s body as she became engulfed in fire. Pauline immediately scooped up the snow in an attempt to douse the flames as the toddler screamed in the sharp chilled night air. Just then, a mule-drawn flatbed wagon, piled high with haybales, was rolling by the house along the red dirt road. An old Cherokee man was sitting up high on the haystack and witnessed the terrifying scene. Without hesitation, the Native American jumped from his high position, ran toward the burning toddler, took off the wool blanket from around his shoulders, and in one motion wrapped the baby in it as he rolled her across the snowy drift. Poor Pauline, in shock from the event, collapsed and stared at her severely injured baby sister. After hearing her baby scream, Bird couldn’t run down the stairs quick enough. Will witnessed the incident played out by the road from the hayloft several yards away. Little Helen Atherton did not survive the incident that fateful night.

Pauline was only 7 or 8 years old at the time. Although her parents did not point the accusatory finger, she blamed herself from minute one. She always did. She carried that undeserving guilt with her to the grave when she passed away from cancer in 1987. My Great-Aunt Pauline was my granddad’s big sister. (He was born in 1918.) She was dearly loved by all.

Photo: (1956/1957) Great-Aunt Pauline

Although Pauline was one of the sweetest individuals anyone could ever meet, one could always see a certain sadness deep in her dark brown eyes. During her lifetime, not much was known about depression, emotional distraught, and mental illnesses. In her day, and in her communities in Oklahoma, and later in east Texas, the tough and broken roads in life were commonly met with sayings like, “Pull up the bootstraps and move on.” Or, “Buck-up and keep your eyes ahead.” And of course, “That was then, and this is now.” Even without these thoughts, she was much like her mother, tough and thick-skinned.

Looking back at her history, I can see where that unforgettable event knocked her on a path she might not have taken otherwise. She married in 1927 experiencing yet another loss. She had a stillborn daughter she named, Joyce Marie. Her husband, Lonnie Griffin, was a womanizer, carouser and an alcoholic. Some time after Joyce was stillborn, the marriage ended in divorce. There’s not a lot known about what went on behind closed doors. My granddad, her little brother, was very happy about the divorce, even though in those days divorce was a true anomaly in small southern communities, in fact it was considered shameful. She blamed herself for the failed marriage.

A few years later, she remarried to a man named, Fred Emory “Buster” Painter. (Yes, I know, it’s odd. He wasn’t a painter.) Uncle Buster was also an alcoholic. He was faithful to her, in the traditional sense, but he was also faithful to the bottle and the violence it delivered. Aunt Pauline was beaten by him many times during his drunken episodes. Uncle Buster caused her to lose their unborn child in the aftermath of one of his tirades. She was never able to get pregnant again. When my granddad confronted him about his booze and physical abusiveness, one Christmas Eve in the early 1950’s, Uncle Buster pulled a knife on him. There was a fight. My granddad was a rugged US Navy sailor who finished out WWII in the Philippines. After delivering a volley of attitude adjustments while disarming Buster, he threatened him about future bad behavior. This all took place in front of the entire family. My mom was just a kid but she said she was scared to death witnessing such a tussle. Aunt Pauline blamed herself for all the turmoil.

Later, Uncle Buster changed his ways and embraced Jesus for forgiveness in his life. He left the bottle behind, living out his remaining days sober and peaceful. That’s how I knew him growing up. In 6th and 7th grade, I would spend a week with them on their farm during the summer, loving every minute of it. He passed away in 1976.

Photo: (1956/1957) Siblings and their mama. L-R: Robert (Born in 1915), Pauline (Born 1909), Great-Grandmother Bird Atherton, Evelyn (Born in 1922), and my granddad, (The greatest man I ‘ve ever known.), Martin Atherton (Born in 1918). (I often wonder if Helen would’ve resembled my great-aunts.)

Going against what the family had hoped for her, Aunt Pauline remarried…to yet another alcoholic. Are you seeing a pattern? His name was Vernon Bell, a local handyman in the community around Greenville, Texas. She endured his addictive lifestyle with such grace. Uncle Vernon was not an abusive man toward her, but he was a man shy of common sense in various ways. He allowed his drinking problem to choose bad business decisions, and fell into terrible debt. According to what has been said, he owed many citizens, as well as the local bank, etc. He was not a respected man in the county. My Aunt Pauline deserved better days for her golden years. I never heard her say it, but I bet she blamed herself for Vernon’s missteps in life.

My Aunt Pauline was an incredibly selfless person. You couldn’t find a harder worker than this wonderful lady. She was a giver of whatever she had to give. She had a heart full of love, but made bad selections when it came to finding a spouse. We loved her dearly.

Remembering her tragic life, I can’t help but wonder if that traumatic night in Oklahoma set her on a course which landed her at the hard end of abusive men. It’s almost like she chose to be abused in life. Maybe not. Only God knows for sure.

One thing is for certain, God was not absent in any event in her life. My mom has her old worn Bible. In it, scores of underlined and highlighted passages of God’s promises, His care, and His everlasting grace are throughout. That’s what she rested on, even when sorrows upon sorrows attended her way, (“It Is Well”). Witnessing her baby sister burn alive was the deepest cut, and the first cut into her young tender heart. My personal belief is that part of her core felt as if she were cursed somehow. Not so. Beyond the wreckage and rubble, she was a daughter of the Prince Of Peace.

According to the passages underscored in Pauline’s Bible, she reminded herself that God was there when Helen went up in flames that dreadful night. She knew God was there when her first husband came home drunk wearing the scent of another woman’s perfume. Pauline read in the scriptures that although she endured Buster’s worship of whiskey, while taking his punches to her belly, God’s Spirit carried her through the pain and struggle. Being unaware she had cancer growing up her spinal column in her elderly years, while also loving Vernon through alcoholism, she still clutched the promise of God’s new covenant given by Jesus, the covenant she accepted long ago in the Baptist, or Methodist services.

We never knew she was feeling ill. An autopsy report was completed on Aunt Pauline. The pathologist indicated she had cancer growing inside her for some time. Yet, she never complained. In fact, she never went to a doctor during those years. It has been said, with the massive tumors growing like ivy throughout her body, she had to have experienced severe, crippling pain. Maybe, just maybe, she thought she deserved it, like a curse. I hope not.

“Where was God in all this?”

It’s often asked when horrific things happen to good people. If Helen, or Pauline were here today, their answers would be in unison,

“He was there all the time, leading us through it all.”

Now THAT is truly fuel for the race.

“I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect] peace. In the world you have tribulation and distress and suffering, but be courageous [be confident, be undaunted, be filled with joy]; I have overcome the world.” [My conquest is accomplished, My victory abiding.]” – Jesus – John 16:33 (Amplified Bible)

October 16, 2022

Life Is…

“In the circle of life,
It’s the wheel of fortune.
It’s the leap of faith.
It’s the band of hope,
‘Til we find our place.
On the path unwinding, yeah.
In the circle, the circle of life.” (1994) “Circle Of Life” From Disney’s, The Lion King. Recorded By: Elton John Written By: Elton John & Tim Rice

Look around. We see the results everywhere. Our culture tends to scream it out. Childhood abuse, in various forms, can cause even the brightest souls to spin off course, or knocked into another orbit than intended. Early trauma in a child’s life can deliver a lens through which the injured views the future by way of a fogged scrim. Often this skewed vision can last until death, or to the doorstep of an intervention of some kind giving opportunity for an adjustment.

A brilliant young man, Reginald Kenneth Dwight was such an injured person. His childhood experiences drove him headlong into a life of debauchery, self-destruction, horrific tantrums, and hopelessness. Reginald became a severe addict. His addictive behavior was manifested in numerous ways. He became addicted to all things material, shopping, sexual addictions, sour relationships, abusive actions toward lovers, alcohol consumption, drug abuse (cocaine being the pet), out-of-control financial spending, gross hording of collectibles, eating disorders, and so much more. When it came to substance abuse, he became so addicted that he was in the all-you-can-consume-buffet-line. If there was more cocaine in the building, his nose found found it until it was all gone. Once he started, he couldn’t stop.

Relationships, good relationships, were seemingly avoided as a young man. Although he found himself engaged to a young lady, a woman who was abusive in word, in deed, and violent at times, he was presented with a solution to his troubled relationship. He listened to a close friend who was gay, and decided that he himself might be gay. Although it went against all he was raised with, he made the decision to try the gay lifestyle as he continued to run away from his past. The next morning they came with a truck to take him home, while she went her own way. His decisive choice threw him into a never ending line of gay lovers, some of which he never knew their names.

Many years later, he fell in love with…a woman. Nobody close to him believed it could happen, but it did. For reasons a bit unclear, they married. However, his lifestyle, and all that goes with it, had become so amalgamized with his daily life, and the destructive choices he made, ended the marriage some four years later. He, and his wife, both truly loved one another. They both still honor one another to this very day. They vowed to never discuss publicly the intimate details of their marriage, however the fly in the ointment was fairly evident.

As hard as it is to wrap your head around the following, it still must be mentioned here. Always looking for love, and always looking to satisfy his sexual addictions, he would pick up men like some pick up stray dogs. He would use them sexually for a few days, weeks, or possibly up to six months, then drop them by way of a friend slipping the rejected man an airplane ticket home. In the end, he admits to having hundreds of these types of relationships.

He never contracted AIDS, but many of his lovers and friends did. In fact, Reginald lost numerous friends to AIDS, drugs, accidents and suicide. In fact, he attempted to end his life at least three times with intension. Other times, he almost lost his life without any attempts due to cancer and rare infections. Still, his non-stop raving appetite for drugs and alcohol could’ve been his demise at any time throughout the fuzzy decades of abuse.

In 1978, on a rainy, dreary Sunday morning in one of his homes in England, he rose from his bed in deep depression. Actually, he had been in depression for many years as he tried, but failed to self-medicate. But on this day, it seemed much darker to him. Once again, he morbidly felt he was on the edge of death, even visualizing floating away from his body toward space itself, burning up the fuse up there alone. His steps from the bed to the doorway competed heavily with a massive hangover from the night before. As he made his way through the spacious home, he left Reginald Kenneth Dwight behind like a cold bathrobe and , as he did each day, slipped into his Elton John character as he made his stumbling way to the piano bench.

Photo: From – Me: Elton John from, Macmillan Publishing. Photographed By: Terry O’Neill/Iconic Images.

It was a rare occasion when he would write a song without his co-writing partner, Bernie Taupin. Bernie was the lyricist, and Elton was the music composer. However, something often came over him to write a song on his own, without the lyrical assistance of Bernie. This particular, dark morning, was one of them. Still in a cloudy haze from what lingered in his bloodstream, a haunting melody reverberated in his mind. He began to plink it out note by note, chord by chord. As usual, it was beautiful to the ear. At first, he had no thought as to a lyric as he was only playing the instrumental bubbling up from within. The song itself came rather quickly to the keyboard, as was the norm for Elton’s gargantuan talent, but soon a line wormed its way through the notes and the fog of the morning. Like a tape loop, it rotated in his mind over and over again. Being in such a depressive, hungover state, with a sense of great loss, he wasn’t expecting a lyric to make its presence known. Yet, there it was, out of nowhere, loud and clear. Elton began to match it with the chord structure, repeating it verbally like a thick continual scroll. Unlike past lyrical adventures in the composition of songs, this line was the only line that displayed itself to him that morning. It was a short lyric, but a massive, hard-hitting domino of a line not to be lost or forgotten. It read like this…

“Life…isn’t everything.”

Now, say what you will about the validity, or the absurdity of such a line, but there are times when one can be inspired by something in the air? Something outside of one’s self? A spiritual connection? A spirit tested? A spirit not tested? Which ever way you believe it to be, this did happen while the melody was being formed in his music room that day. It’s a sad state of affairs when an individual, who is worth north of $500 million dollars, held such a lack of darkness and hope.

He loved the song so much that he wanted to release it. His intension was to title it, “Life isn’t Everything”. In studio, he simply sings the line very softly, repeating the line several times, toward the end of the instrumental. If you should bring it up on YouTube, you will find it to be a stirring, daunting piece, mixed with an edge of a feeling of floating away without care. Businesswise, the song did well on the UK charts, but poorly in the US. Still, if you heard it you might recognize the recording.

Guy Burchett was a 17 year old who ran messages and errands for Elton’s production company. He was a local lad who was always available, hard working, and dependable. Guy was a year younger than I. Knowing how I loved EJ’s music, I can see how eager he was to work for the musician. Elton was notified the following day of Guy’s unfortunate sudden death due to a motorcycle accident. As the information came down, as it turned out, the young man’s life had been snuffed out at the same time Elton was constructing the song on that Sunday morning. Grieved, he made the choice to honor his young friend by entitling the new song, “Song For Guy”.

I am not here to be Elton’s judge. I am not here to bash Elton’s lifestyle. I am not here to denounce Elton’s decisions in life. Because I view things through a biblical point of view, I know that for the grace of God go I. I know I have a tendency to feed on addictive trappings. God granted us freewill. I cannot blame my DNA heritage, or any particular generation in my bloodline, although it would seem easy to do so. Scripture makes it clear that I am responsible for my own decisions, whether to try for the bait in the traps, or not. In Elton’s autobiography, Me: Elton John, he admits falling hook, line, and sinker for cocaine at the very first snort. It can happen.

Still, the single line whispered into his brain on that drizzly Sunday morning in 1978 is so profound…and yet, so wrong. “Life isn’t everything”.

I will assume here that there was a Mr. and Mrs. Burchett who grieved painstakingly at the news of their son’s tragic death on the road. Although we don’t know them, I will assume they might have said, in their grief, “Oh, no!” Or maybe, “No, not my precious son!” Or possibly, “Our boy meant the world to us.” Grief is indeed the penalty of loving. More than likely, Guy’s life meant everything to his parents, in fact, to anyone who loved Guy.

Allowing for Sir Elton’s possible meaning, as he wrote the lyric which pounded into his head, the expression may have been a statement of eternal hope after this life is over. In that respect, it’s true. Life, in the here and now, isn’t everything. Life here is only temporary. Scripture aligns it like a puff of a vapor in the air, or a blade of grass that comes and goes with the seasons. Of course, in Elton’s state of loss, depression, while reeling from the aftermath of a night of debauchery, he might have been thinking death is more valuable. After all, it must be the relief of all that stains us, all that pains us, all that shakes us.

Here, I am pushed to disagree with one of my favorite musicians.

How valuable and distinctive is life?

Life isn’t just a four letter word on a board game by Hasbro. Life isn’t just a name on a Quaker Oats cereal box. Life is a gift, issued to each living thing. However, life for the human was issued in the most intimate way. Unlike the cow, the tree, the worm, humanity first took a breath when The great I Am, The Creator ordained the inhale by placing His own mouth over the nostrils and blew the breath of life into the first human. In other words, God Himself crouched down to the lifeless body of His creation and performed mouth-to-mouth, and that action caused life to occur in the new man. Life is issued. It is a gift. Just ask anyone who has had a near-death experience and lived to tell about it. Moreover, ask anyone who was lifeless due to an illness, or accident, and was reignited. I am one of those people. Life is a gift. Life is a stone thrown into a motionless pond, activating ripples upon impact. If you are alive, you have an impact on others around you. Yet, the One who gave life, also removes the breath.

Let us resolve to mention another truth concerning Elton’s lyric. As stated before, life isn’t everything, in that it is temporary. Just ask Guy Burchett. Oh, that’s right, you can’t ask him. Guy left his body at the age of 17 in 1978 during a tragic motorcycle crash. Guy, the person of Guy, left his body to enter eternity. Holy scripture is clear, there is more to this life. It may seem like a candle in the wind, but when the wick burns away, our flame carries on. Jesus spoke about the afterlife often, and the place(s) of the afterlife. God controls the final exits, and the doors entered. In scope, this life is only a blink of an eye compared to eternity. There is a second life, and a second death for some. I didn’t make that up, it’s spelled out in the ancient scrolls.

Although Elton is weird and wonderful, his book is brutally honest, so much so, it can be a very difficult read. Trust me, there were times at the end of a chapter I wanted to take a shower.

The man, the soul, Reginald, found himself removing his electric boots and entered a 12 step program. He learned much about his mistakes, his substance abuse, and even his old ruthless ways with those around him. He has gone back to many he has wronged to apologize for past behaviors. Sobriety has been his norm for many years now, and helps others who need to enter treatment. His view toward life softened much through the following years, even to the point of pouring himself into charities, and forming the Elton John AIDS Foundation, which has raised over $450 million in AIDS research and medical treatment around the world. Through his circumstances in life, he has been forced to a more pliable heart. Even at this elder stage of his life, who knows where it might direct him.

As for Elton’s 1978 view of a throw-away life, he has changed his camera angle. In his book, on the very last page, he writes something so vastly opposite of his 1978 lyric. After suffering from cancer, and a devastating infection he contracted while on tour in South America which almost took his life, he writes:

“In the hospital, alone at the dead of night, I’d prayed: ‘please don’t let me die, please let me see my kids again, please give me a little longer.’ In a strange way, it felt like the time I spent recuperating was the answer to my prayers…It was like being shown a different life.” – Elton John, Excerpt taken from, Me: Elton John, Macmillan Publishing

He knows you wouldn’t mind if he put it down into words, how wonderful life is.

The true circle of life, and life’s destination, is in black and white in fuel for the race.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but so that the world might be saved through Him.” – Jesus From John 3:16-17 (NAS)

September 9, 2022September 11, 2022

An Exit Of Grace

“God save our gracious Queen,

Long live our noble Queen,

God save the Queen.

Send her victorious,

Happy and glorious,

Long to reign over us,

God save the Queen” (1619, via various historic literature.) National Anthem, or Royal Anthem of Great Britain. Some sources report the melody possibly was composed by: John Bull. Otherwise, composer is unknown.

Some have mournfully reacted to the passing of Queen Elizabeth II in a curious way. Multiple times the words from the Queen’s subjects have been stated something like, “I never thought this day would come. After all, she is the Queen. She just goes on and on.” Deep inside such sentiments, although recalling they were said out of shock and grief, is an eternal urging, a longing for an undying righteousness, a Monarch which never ceases to die, defeating the laws of nature and age. It may not be spoken of while sipping a pint around the dartboard of a rustic low-ceiling pub in Sheffield, but apparently the longing is the undercurrent of the soul. In fact, ancient scripture points this out as an everlasting truth.

Queen Elizabeth II knew this all too well. Her Majesty knew her God. She, herself, yearned for the day when she would bow in His throne room where The Unseen Eternal, The Ancient Of Days remains in constant power. This 70 year Monarch never needed to bend the knee here on this temporary placement, but she looked forward to the day when she would fall on her face before the Eternal Ruler of The Universe. At 96 years of age, she finally was ushered into what she had always imagined.

“Although we are capable of great acts of kindness, history teaches us that we sometimes need saving from ourselves – from our recklessness or our greed. God sent into the world a unique person – neither a philosopher nor a great general (important though they are) – but a Saviour, with the power to forgive.” – Queen Elizabeth II (2011)

Commentators from the BBC to the local small market news outlets in America, have reported the stainless rule of this Monarch. Often the words behind the news desks tell of the Queen’s remarkable record of scandal-free reign. Although every member of the House of Windsor cannot stand under such microscopic scrutiny, the Queen endured to the end with God’s righteousness as her bond. In fact, most Monarchs in the scrolls of history were, and are, flawed in one area or the other, some gravely so. Throughout England’s history, as well as all other nations, Monarchs, wrapped in such power while stewed in elitisms, haunted by ironic jealousies, have proven to be warped, corrupted, and in some cases, evil. That is not to say Her Majesty was sinless, as some may proclaim, but the fact remains, her reign as Queen saw very few flaws. Her reputation as a person was above board in just about every way that has been reported outside the walls of Buckingham Palace. No wonder this long-reigning Monarch has been hailed as one who held to selfless service, self-control, self-restraint, and always reaching for the highest of standards.

There are those in the world who have a disdain for the Queen. Yet, in most every case, the reasons stem from her stance against sin and the appearance of such. She had no room in her house for misbehavior, outlandish hatred, and words and actions against her England.

There is no doubt in my mind, these qualities attributed to this Royal cannot be traced to her jewels, her robes, or her throne. It is my belief this Queen, if raised as a peasant on the back streets of blue-collar Manchester, her qualities would have remained intact. I should add here, it would not have been because she wanted to better than others around her, or to even strive for a life in a monastery, but only because she humbly knew where true righteousness comes from. Her Highness, somewhere in the bowels of her souls and spirit, at some given time in her lengthy days, accepted the forgiveness of sins offered only through Jesus, The King Of Kings.

“For me, the life of Jesus Christ, the Prince Of Peace, whose birth we celebrate today, is an inspiration and an anchor in my life. A role-model of reconciliation and forgiveness, He stretched out His hands of love, acceptance and healing. Christ’s example has taught me to seek to respect and value all people of whatever faith or none.” – Queen Elizabeth II (Christmas Day address 2014)

Much will be said of this Queen in the coming days. Her name will be garnished with grandeur, pomp and circumstance. Her memory, and the acts of her rule, will be enshrined by the high praises of accolades from the poorest among us, as well as, the wealthiest and most famous, and rightly so. As these events unfold, as the Queen is laid to rest, keep in mind of what she might say as a parting comment. With what I know of this great lady, as we highlight her achievements, and her vast integrity, she would stop us while pointing to the One Who shared His righteousness with her, holding her hand, and holding her up through a jubilee of her reign. It is her faith in Him which we celebrate, even if unknowingly.

In the pages of modern history, those of the faith, and even those searching for eternal truths, have been graced by irrefutable tangible movings of the hand of God for us to witness. There have been remarkable manifestations throughout history which work to enlighten the blindness of humanity. Although these things are a rarity since the days of Jesus, they have been well documented across the globe. In each case, in those very rare moments, there with it comes a divine message reaching from outside the created galaxies to the world God so loves. On Thursday, September 8th, 2022, just before and after the passing of Queen Elizabeth, a double rainbow appeared over Buckingham Palace where a throng of people watched with collective gasps.

Photo: Whitchurch Herold

About the very same time, another rainbow pierced through the cloudy darkness some 29 miles away at Windsor Castle for the mourners to witness, just as the Union jack was being lowered to half-mast.

In the days of Noah, the first rainbow ever was seen and recorded. It is written that it was a “sign”, a monument, of God’s promise never to destroy the earth by flood again. Upon the plucking-up of Queen Elizabeth’s soul on September 8th, it’s as if The Rock of Ages visually made it known she was now over the rainbow, under the arch of His everlasting arms. Truly, an exit of grace.

See what is in store for those who mourn, and for those looking for an eternal righteousness which never dies in fuel for the race.

“In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple.” – Isaiah 6:1 (ESV)

June 26, 2022

Rights And Lefts

“People smile and tell me I’m the lucky one.
And we’ve only just begun.
Think I’m gonna have a son.
He will be like she and me, as free as a dove,
Conceived in love.
Sun is gonna shine above.” (1970) “Danny’s Song” (Even Though We Ain’t Got Money) Composer: Kenny Loggins

It was an unanticipated event. Unexpected, you might say.

1968 was a landmark year for Danny, and his girlfriend, Sheila. It wasn’t their first choice, or their second. Yet, God had other plans. When the news came from the doctor that Sheila was expecting, the sky didn’t fall. The earth didn’t stop revolving. The stars continued their sparkle. In their case, the two were very much in love, even though unmarried, it didn’t matter. A new dynamic had surrounded the two young people, which changed their navigation in life. Danny was so pumped about the idea, that he wrote a letter to his younger brother about his circumstances and the new developments. It was THAT letter which made up much of Kenny Loggins’ lyrics of the very famous song, most remember as, “Even Though We Ain’t Got Money”. (Anne Murray would also release it in 1973. It became a huge hit with her offering of the song.)

One might say, “Sure, but they were in love. They were a couple. Abortion was illegal, and not an option for an unmarried couple in 1968.” Yes, it’s true. Danny and Sheila were in love, choosing pre-marital sex in their relationship. True, abortion wasn’t available legally at the moment, if that was a choice Sheila wanted to make. But, what if the opposite were true. What if Danny and Sheila were not serious lovers of the heart and soul? What if they lost their sexual composer on a date out on a moonlit beach without planning a long-lasting future? I’ll go further than that. What if Danny was over aggressive in the sexual heat of the moment, and a date rape occurred? (This is how I was conceived in 1959.) Now, let’s take all of those hypothetical questions, and add a hard question from the fabric of reality check. Ready?

Would the baby inside Sheila’s warm, nourishing, and protective uterus, suddenly changed into a glob of tissue, a tumor, or an intrusive bio-matter of a cyst if the love didn’t exist? The honest answer hits us in the face like a Boston Cream Pie. No, the baby would not suddenly transform into a knot of fat and gristle. In fact, Sheila and Danny’s baby is about 53 years old this year. You know why? Because when he was conceived inside Sheila, there was nothing, nada, zero, to be added to his DNA to make him a newborn baby boy nine months later. Everything he needed to grow into a 8 pound baby, who would seek a nipple even before birth, was already there in the beginning of the union of the egg and the sperm. There would be no need for a fairy to come along with a shaker of pixie dust to anoint his expanding cranium to complete the make-up of humanity. Unless a horrible deadly health issue invaded his body, or an abortionist’s steel bladed tool attacked his limbs and head from outside the protective womb, he would be a 53 year old man by 2022. Danny and Sheila’s love for one another had nothing to do with his development and growth. Danny and Sheila could’ve broken up before his birth, and not one piece of his DNA, his structure, his brain, his heart, would be subtracted to make him less human.

Nov 1987 – Tabitha, my first, and me without any sleep.

Roe V Wade was overturned in the U. S. Supreme Court a few days ago. They call it, “The Supreme Court” because that is the institution’s nature. The nine justices who are honored to have a chair in the highest court in the nation, are vigorously screened, reviewed, researched, and grilled prior to a vote of approval on Capitol Hill. These individuals, are seated as justices in the high court partially due to their individual swearing oaths to uphold and protect the constitution of the United States, not holding to their personal choices, whims, or outside influences and payola. Integrity is not just a word, but rather a code inside the decisions of weighing the written laws of the land with the constitution as the standard by which they are to write legal decisions. They vow NOT to wear blue or red robes, but black ones. There is to be no evidence of political bias, not even a hint, seen in their documents. Yet, that is exactly what happened in 1973 when Row V Wade was debated and decided using ideology from the left. It simply was not a case for the Supreme Court. Simply put, the constitution could not deliver such rulings on if abortion is to be legalized in all 50 states. Abortion ENDS human life. It keeps a nephew of Kenny Loggins from being a 53 year old man, with a career, a family, a contributing citizen of the United States. The constitution will not defend ending a child’s life, in or outside the uterus, or in some cases, the actual birth canal, (Partial Birth Abortion.

(Keep in mind, the recent decision from the Supreme Court simply puts the abortion issue back in the individual states where the voters decide on the local levels.) It’s freedom, it’s liberty at its best! Abortion is a procedure that will be kept, or denied by the citizens who go to the ballot box in each state. In other words, Uncle Sam doesn’t keep babies from the abortionist tools, or provides the facility where the remains of babies are sold to research facilities, or the bio dumpsters. Only WE THE PEOPLE, the Texans, the Floridians, the Alaskans, the New Yorkers, will make that choice for our own states. No liberty is lost!

Assumptions can murder. The lies spread about the Court’s decision began immediately from the left, for those who refuse to look at the law, the constitution, or the case involved which brought it to the floor, in order to bolster deceit in the minds of such. There are those in Washington who toss fabrications professionally in order to keep their political power, just for the chess pieces who would rather wallow in emotion, instead of reality. Unfortunately, this is how people get killed, property gets torched, and wars can ignite. The wisest will resist kneejerk reactions and research what they read, or hear. Verification is essential to discovering the truth of matters.

Even technology, normally worshipped by many, has progressed to the point where we now have no excuse to understand when life actually begins in the womb. Not long ago, we had no way to prove it scientifically. Too often, science is only praised if it fits the narrative of weak-minded ideologues. Medical advancements, and digital computerized 3D imaging can now “boldly go where one one has gone before.” When one chooses to let go of their spray painted signs of protest, their masks, and their hoodies, and look up the videos and pictures of the growing child in the uterus, a truth pie arrives for the face. However, most want their ideology to last, therefore staying ignorant is bliss. Shameful, really.

We have learned, through incredible medical technology, the heartbeat of the unborn child is “detected” at six weeks after conception. The heart is developing prior to that, but the “detection” of the actual beat can be heard and seen at six weeks. That’s two heartbeats inside Sheila, the pre-birth infant’s heart, and her heart. Tragically, there are now videos showing the growing baby pushing back away from the abortionist’s blade, or vacuum tube for the brain, as it approaches the infant’s body. We now have video of the reaction of the baby as it shakes in pain when the chemical begins to burn the skin during a chemical abortion. One former abortion nurse reported how the screams of the baby can be heard in some procedures, including when the child is dying “outside” the birth canal. We wouldn’t do that to puppies! Am I right? We spend millions on saving the seals in the artic from being clubbed to death for their coats. We spend the same on saving sea turtles when hatched in the sands of beaches. Why do we nod and look away when we slaughter human babies approaching birth? Enough said.

During my sophomore year in high school, my girlfriend’s name was Sheila. (No, not Danny’s Sheila.) Shortly after we broke up, she became pregnant during a first date with her next boyfriend. The news was hard, but I was proud of her when she made the choice to carry him full term. She named him, Barry. She raised him. He is now 44 years old. I just had the honor of meeting him at his grandparent’s memorial service last week. He has a wife and two children of his own now. A fine, happy man.

I have had other close friends who chose abortion due to events of unexpected pregnancy. One dear friend had three performed in her 20’s. One woman I worked with had…12, yes, 12 in her lifetime. My ex-wife had two abortions prior to our relationship. During my radio career, I have interviewed many involved in the abortion field, crisis pregnancy center directors, doctors, nurses, and the women who have had the procedure who claimed they were marked for life. The stories were consistent. It seems there is damage to the very soul of the woman involved, while the abortionist, gladly pockets her money and shows her the door. Trust me, I know the pain, the fear, the damage, the psychological monkey on the back concerning this deadly decision. There are choices, choices for avoiding killing the girl, or boy dependent on the mother for survival, for the mother of right choices.

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

God, whether one acknowledges Him, or not, will be one’s judge. He, not me, will be the final Court of Supremacy. With that said, if one is angered by the overturning of Roe, upset by the Court’s decision, marching and rioting due to the outcome of judicial debated, one must ask of oneself a question, if not in denial. The question is, why are you disjointed over the fact that millions of babies will live? Why are you enraged over the fact that YOU, and your neighbors on the local level, get the freedom to choose if infants are to be slaughtered in your state? What causes the outrage, the insanity of inward collapse knowing more babies will survive the tongs and blade?

Those in the camp of outrage over this decision by the highest court in the land are doing so under the lie of “women’s rights”. Some, “women’s health”. While others would march under the umbrella of, “A woman’s right to choose what happens to her own body.” In such thoughts, the idea is to place SELF as #1. If honest, they cannot argue the fact of priority placement. It’s the idea of “convenience” to stamp out a child’s life in order to not accept responsibility for one’s actions, to avoid putting a child first before self, or to avoid disruption of daily status quo. Tattoo your baby. Dye the infant’s hair purple and green. Pierce the child’s ear and nose. But there is no right given by God, nor the constitution of these United States, to kill the baby entrusted to you, especially to satisfy your personal notions.

2001-D’Anna, my youngest daughter. She was going to be premature with under developed lungs. The possibility of a disabled baby was very much real. After 24 hours in a incubator in ICU, she was breathing on her own. Yes, weaker lungs than her sisters, but a true flower in my garden.

God gives life, even if the mother is avoiding Him in life. He states in scripture, He is the “Lifegiver”. The rights given to a woman, and man, are given from above, so says our founding father’s documents. How can one, “pursue happiness” if that one has suffered the blades of an abortionist in the sanctuary of the womb? We do not have the right to kill children. We have the right to aid them, keep them healthy, nurture them, but not to end life. We should hold up the standard to have the right to do what we want with our own bodies…but we do not have the right to destroy the body of another who does not share her organs, her spirit, her soul. The woman in the clinic’s stirrups, isn’t there to abort herself, to end her life, to rid herself of a limb, or an eye, or a foot, or a cancer…she is there to rip apart another person’s living body. Dare to educate yourself by watching the videos that are now available.

Date raped at 15, my mom made the choice to carry me to term. However, depression from the sexual attack almost destroyed her, even to the point of two attempts at suicide, she survived by God’s amazing grace…and that’s why I can write to you today.

Danny and Sheila had a baby boy named, Colin in 1969. When he wrote to his brother, Kenny Loggins, Colin had already been born. Danny and Sheila did marry soon after, even though they ain’t got money.

On this road of LIFE, there will be unanticipated issues. Yet, LIFE needs fuel for the race.

” I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live,” – Deuteronomy 30:19 (English Standard Version)

April 12, 2022

Standing In The Gap

Recently, I have discovered a new vice in my life. Something that I have noticed in myself before, but shrugged off as a silly diversion. Of late, I have come to realize, I need to guard my time with a bit more scrutiny. While scrolling through my newsfeeds on Facebook, I have found I can get addicted to the various short video clips offered from a plethora of sources. In doing so, I discover I consume much of the clock in that hour without even looking up. What a misuse of precious time. It’s something I need to work on before I slip further down the rabbit hole of a kaleidoscope of clips just waiting to snatch me away from more important things. (Even now, I am tempted to stop here to check out the latest uploads of strange things caught on security cameras. ARG!)

However, now that I have confided in you, concerning the latest leach which sucks on my brain, not all video clips are worthless visuals for the eyes.

Last week, while moving on to the next video clip of the day, I was captured by a very touching, yet painful clip from a cat owner. His beloved cat had a litter in a cubby hole, cave-style, dug out in a sandy area on his property. A couple of the new kittens came up missing from her little makeshift den. It wasn’t difficult to guess what had happened, but he wanted proof. Being a techie, he set up a video camera pointing toward the entrance to the den of little ones. He set it up and reviewed the footage several times a day, often catching the mom’s activities live from his computer screen indoors.

One afternoon, glancing at his screen, the cat owner was shocked at what was displayed. Gazing at the screen, he witnessed his mama cat standing fiercely in the entrance of the cubby hole with teeth showing and hisses spewing out of her mouth. There, directly in front of her, with her babes behind her hidden in the sandy den, was a large snake slithering nearer and nearer to the portal of the home of the kittens. Arching her back, with a strange growl, she swiped the claws of her paw toward the nose of the reptile with every effort of reach she could safely muster in the protective stance she defiantly chose. Time was not on the mama’s side, nor the owner’s. He dropped everything and ran out toward the area of his property where the den of kittens had been prepared. With each step, he contemplated just what his course of action would be once he reached the cubby. He didn’t take note of the species of snake, or the scope of its length. Unsure of what tool he could use to fight the crafty invader, his urgency to run as fast as he could to the mama’s aid took over his mind.

As the video continued to record, I could see the snake had advanced to the point of wrapping the mama cat up in a squeezing death grip around her stomach and ribcage. She clawed and fought while her life ebbed away in the same spot where she took her last stand against the enemy of the children. The video shows the owner gripping the body of the resisting reptile where it wound itself around the cat’s torso. With both hands, the owner was able to remove the snake, although it took every ounce of arm strength he had. Simultaneously, a few of the kittens raced out of the protective cave, stampeding over their mother’s lifeless body to escape the danger as the owner continued to wrestle the powerful snake.

After a quick edit of the clip. the owner is shown holding the dead reptile from the tail, followed by the man gathering the kittens who instinctively retreated to various hiding places nearby. Of the kittens she had remaining in the cubby behind her during the fight, not one was lost.

After another edit, the video shows the owner, lovingly and respectfully, placing his cat in a shoebox and placing it in a grave close by.

While watching the clip. I was struck by the bravery of the young mother as she faced an enemy of certain destruction. She fought tooth and nail to defend her brood she had nestled in the dug out shelter. Even as her lifeless body was in the clutch of the snake, her body length stretched out against the opening, kept the reptile from fully entering the little cavern.

Oh, how I mourn for our world, seeing so many mamas seem oblivious to the dragon at the cubby doorway.

My heart goes out to the men and women of Ukraine. So many evacuated their loved ones then stayed to battle the invading military of the serpent from Moscow. Yes, that’s how I feel.

My spirit is also reminded of why Jesus came to rescue the world from itself. If you were to go to the hill, Golgotha, in Jerusalem today, you should not see just a hill. One should say to oneself,

“Here is where the Savior of the world made a stance, a standing in the gap, to give away His life for His own.”

Now imagine with me. What if the mama cat came out of her grave three days later and returned to her babes to nurture, teach, and comfort them? That would be worth an international news conference.

The fact remains, Jesus came to take our spiritual death upon Himself knowing there was no other way to escape the deadly serpent. His resurrection was earthshattering, with enormous evidence that He is truly the Great I AM. He holds the keys to death and the grave. To mindlessly stampede over this truth is an eternal mistake.

Now imagine with me, again. What if only a few kittens took their mama’s sacrifice to heart, escaping certain death, while many more of the litter thought it wise to stay in the cubby with the snake at the door? If not for their willing protective mama, their lame self-wisdom would have cost them their lives. So, the same is true today. Many only see the cross as a trinket for dangling from a rearview mirror. When in reality, the place of the cross is a doorway of safety and comfort. Jesus warned us that there is no other way. No other road. No other hope for eternity.

The beauty of Easter is first found in fuel for the race.

“I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you. After a little while, the world no longer is going to see Me, but you are going to see Me; because I live, you also will live…” (Jesus) – John 14:18-19 (NAS)

October 16, 2021

A Wonderful Distraction

“When you feel down and out, Sing a song (it’ll make your day).

For you, here’s the time to shout Sing a song (It’ll make a way).

Sometimes it’s hard to care, Sing a song (It’ll make your day).

A smile is so hard to bear, Sing a song (It’ll make a way)…”

(1975) Recorded By: Earth, Wind & Fire Composers: Maurice White/Al McKay

Can I be real frank with you, yet remaining to be Alan at the same time? Okay, I take it that’s a “Yes”.

Over the summer, death has taken a few friends and acquaintances, including one family member, and almost lost another. The losses have been almost on a weekly basis. I have been fighting depression concerning my dementia patient mom who is declining much faster than expected. She still lives alone some 60 miles from me. I am facing mountains of decisions in this arena. My health is slowly headed further south. My wife has been faced with health issues herself, and heavy emotional family issues on her side. I feel like I am going under with my hand stretched out above the surface of a deep, dark ocean. I have needed a distraction…big-time.

It seems I have some new readers which may not know about one of my favorite topics, my middle daughter, Megan. Although I recently posted about her wedding over the summer, here I am again with something new and exciting.

Megan is a bit of a verified rock star in Western New York. Articles and reviews list her as part of Buffalo, New York’s “rock royalty”, and she’s only 31.

Recently, she was asked to audition to perform the National Anthem at the home opener at the Buffalo Sabres game. She, and her band mate, Grace Lougen from their band, Grosh, (Grace is a superb guitar player.), she recently played for me at Megan’s wedding reception, took the plunge with an audition. BOOM! Before you could say, Ice Capades, she got the call. As it turned out, she needed to learn the Canadian Anthem as well, due to the fact the opposing team was the Montreal Canadiens, (Yeah, that’s how they spell it.)

Although, me being in Dallas Stars’ territory, no outlet was carrying the game, with the exception of ESPN+, which my oldest daughter, Tabitha subscribes to. Thankfully, she shot a cell phone video of the performance, which I posted on my Facebook page. (You can see it there. Search for, Alan Brown Carrollton, Texas. That should do it.)

What’s that? You say you wish you could see some pictures? Really? Well, allow me. Let me grab my slide projector.

Megan (R) with Grace (L) prior to the game.

Megan & Grace at work on the Sabres’ ice.

Megan & Grace remembering the lyrics to “Oh, Canada”
.

Singing without a COVID mask is refreshing for a New Yorker!

It does a dad’s heart some good to find several camera angles for different perspectives from fans in attendance, as well as, those viewing from Canadian networks. (The version on my Facebook page is from the ESPN+ broadcast.) I needed to be ushered away from heavy sorrows and raking worries. It served as an inward reboot button. Thank you, Megan.

Although, with live gigs averaging several times a week, with 19,000+ in the arena that night, plus who knows how many in the television and radio audience, I would say it was her largest audience to date. Yeppers, I was one proud dad. Moreover, I was one distracted dad.

Recently I became aware that the Puritans often used a quote I have used before as a performer through the decades. I had always thought the origin of the quote came from Soren Kierkegaard. Nevertheless, it’s a dandy.

“AN AUDIENCE OF ONE”

Sometime in my mid 20’s, when I became a serious Bible student, anytime I performed a song, a theatrical script, or while on radio and audio commercials, I trained myself to imagine performing to He Who sits on the eternal throne, God Himself. It was a process. Prior to that time, I just focused on the audience of humanity in the seats. That’s all well and good, but it can feel shallow. Laser-focusing on the One Who created talents can bring the performance from the head to the heart rapidly, as if He is the only set of eyes and ears in the room. This is what I taught Megan while she was a child actress back in the day. My hope is that every now and then, she might recall the idea.

When needing a good distraction, find it easily in fuel for the race.

“Sing to the LORD a new song; Sing to the LORD, all the earth. Sing to the LORD, bless His name; Proclaim the good news of His salvation from day to day.” – Psalm 96:1-2 (NAS)

July 31, 2021

Words That Stick

“…You might not see him in person,
But he’ll see you just the same.
Yeah, yeah,
You don’t have to worry ’cause takin’ care of business is his name.” (1973) “Jesus Just Left Chicago” – Recorded By: ZZ Top Composers: Frank Beard, Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill

Oh, the irony of that last verse from ZZ Top.

So, who is God? Really? If He is to be found, then where is He?

Rarely do I write about an artist twice in a row, but this week turned out to be different.

If not familiar with ZZ Top, it’s not important to the thrust of this post. If you know ZZ Top, but you’re not into their style of music, again, keep reading.

ZZ Top has been together for more than 52 years. Around 1969, some Texas boys put together a three-piece band, which became a giant source of sound, with a southern rock twist. ZZ Top became one of the biggest selling names in the rock arena. If you hear them play, you might think you are hearing a five member band. Artistically, they are phenomenal. Billy, Dusty, and Frank created a powerhouse of music mixes which stamped their brand nicely all through the 1970’s and onward. Their concert tours continue even now.

Photo: Wikipedia – ZZ Top, Dusty Hill, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard

This past week, Dusty Hill, the iconic bass player from ZZ Top, passed away while sleeping in his home in Houston. He was 72 years old.

Dusty was considered far and wide as being one of the greatest bass players ever to pluck the strings. He also held down the back-up vocals, keyboards (when needed), and the cello. In fact, he began playing the classical cello as a youngster. Seeing Dusty at a truck stop, in his cowboy hat, jeans, and boots, complete with his famous chest-length beard, you wouldn’t assume he was an accomplished tower of a musician, or that his net worth was just north of 60 million dollars. He was a master musician and stage performer.

During my high school days in the 1970’s, I knew about 70% of their music by heart. My friend, and guitar player for my band, was great at picking ZZ Top songs on his guitar by ear. So, I was a bit heartbroken this week when the news came across that Dusty had quietly left us. Somehow, our rock heroes aren’t supposed to leave this life, or ever get old for that matter. At least that’s in the back of our minds.

Dusty had a few health issues he contended with over the years. He was not a stranger to injuries, most of which occurred while on the road with ZZ Top. After a fall, with a much needed hip replacement, Dusty was advised to sit on a stool during stage performances, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. A few years back Dusty’s trusted Derringer fell out of his boot, accidentally went off and left him with a bullet in the belly. He had the wherewithal at the time to drive himself to the hospital before he went into shock. It’s a good thing he did, too. He made a full recovery.

Sometimes words are spoken and forgotten. Often times, words can be iconic, sticking to the minds of the hearers, and label of the persona who delivered the words.

Once Dusty was asked about what he thought about God, being one of the composers of “Jesus Just Left Chicago”. His answer was stark, and maybe not unusual by today’s cultural standards.

“I believe in God. I just don’t know what, or who God actually is.” – Dusty Hill

Dusty’s answer seems to fit the mindset of many. When faced with the question, if someone laughs it off, then it usually means they fear the answer to the question. The nervous laughter is a self-protective distraction. After all, there is the theory that whatever you actually speak out-loud, you believe deep down. Dusty’s honest answer usually comes from someone who has considered the answer prior to being asked. In many cases, when those words are spoken, the person drowns the heart’s desire “to know” with the stuff of life. Some common tools would be, business, career, family time, substance abuse, talents, or entertainment. Others, may follow-up on their admitted loss “of knowing” the answer, and seriously seek God out. Jesus did say, “Knock and the door shall be opened to you.” -(Matthew 7:7).

Scripture is stuffed with passages speaking of this vital Q&A beyond the cosmos we are all faced with. From the beginning of biblical time, God Himself invites us to come and discover Him, to seek Him out while He may be found. One of my favorites is when God invites us to come to Him with, not just questions about Him, but actual debate, when He said in Isaiah 1:18…

“Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord: Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.”

Contrary to some schools of thought, God seeks us out. In reality, we run from the subject matter. Why? Because it’s easier to simply believe we captain our own ships, ships that sail into the afterlife. In a sense, humans are control freaks. We want to be the ones who lay in a bed in our home and say to ourselves, “Well, my body is ebbing away, but my spirit is strong enough to take it from here.”

To this, I would ask, if you can’t control your own thought-life today, this hour, or this very moment, what makes you think you can project your own spirit/soul? Seriously, ask that of yourself. Consider, the afterlife, and what is prepared for you, doesn’t belong to you. You don’t own it, like one owns a car.

The most prominent self-taught statement on a deathbed is: “Sure, I have sinned, but who doesn’t? I’m a pretty good guy/gal, for the most part. That should speak well of myself at Peter’s gate…if there is one.”

As for Dusty’s “who” and “what”, Jesus addressed this several times so there would be no misunderstandings.

“Philip said to Him, ‘Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.’ Jesus says to him, ‘Am I with you so long a time, and you have not known Me, Philip? The one having seen Me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father is in Me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on My own, but the Father, as He remains in Me, does His works. Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father is in Me; otherwise believe because of the works themselves.'” -John 14:10-11 (NAS)

For those who believe, these words of Jesus stick. As for Dusty’s words, he actually answered his own question in the last verse of his song from 1972.

Although you may think you are unknown to God, you’ll see anew in fuel for the race.

“And Jesus was silent. And the chief priest answering said to Him, ‘I adjure You, by the living God, that You may say to us if You are the Christ—the Son of God.’ Jesus says to him, ‘You have said; nevertheless I say to you, hereafter you will see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of the Power and coming on the clouds of Heaven.’” – Matthew 26:63-64 (Literal Standard Version)

May 17, 2021May 17, 2021

When Rockets Launch

“We are strong.
No one can tell us we’re wrong.
Searching our hearts for so long,
both of us knowing,
love is a battlefield.” (1983) “Love Is A Battlefield” Recorded By: Pat Benatar Composers: Holly Knight & Mike Chapman

“These, ‘so-called’ Christians, like to attack whenever they don’t agree with someone else!”

“I’m DONE with my old high school friends who claim they’re Christians!”

“I’m not surprised anymore by what Christians say. They are all haters and ‘Trumpers’!”

“I’m not surprised either. In fact, I expect it from them (Christians).”

“Yep, most of them (Christians) are uneducated !…#@&*!”

Offended yet? If you are not of the faith, you’ll find it doesn’t necessarily bother you. Or should it? Keep reading.

Let me back up a bit to explain the above.

A “friend” of mine, going back to my high school days, launched a very negative attack on her Facebook post after she read another angry person’s comment on a private group posting memorials of deceased alumni, or teaching staff from my old high school. It’s a very nice service to have, especially when you’re an alumni who cares for old friends and teachers from yesteryear. I have been able to honor former classmates by attending their funeral services due to the fact I was briefed by the memorial page. Yet, all of the harsh words written above about “Christians” were in reaction to the cover photo of the memorial page. Here’s what launched those scathing words thrown at “Christians”. A simple photo.

Photo: R.L. Turner High School Memorial Page

Yep! That’s right, the cross. I guess this gang of vipers would break out in physical convulsions at Arlington Cemetery. It all began with one individual who responded to an obit of a departed alumni. The string of replies were the common condolences, well wishes, prayers for the family, etc, Then came this one who didn’t write anything about the deceased person, but instead questioned the use of the cross as the cover photo. In his complaint, TO THIS PRIVATE GROUP PAGE, he mentioned there were so many classmates and teachers who were not Christians. Stupidly, and yes, I used that word just now, for his assault on the cross, mentioned how the high school is a public school on school district land, therefore religious symbols should stay out of it. Of course, the school, or school district, didn’t put up the memorial page…a “private group” did so on the Facebook platform.

Back to my old high school atheistic chum. She notated on her page a description of what she saw on the memorial page, and how it should be taken down, in the recent flavor of cancel culture. Of course, she wanted to stir the stew, and she certainly did. Most of her friends on her list are far left edge, godless people, who talk about how tolerant they are, but only selectively tolerant. Tolerance for me, but not for thee. So, as one might imagine, a slew of her Christian-hating friends poured it on with a hot liquid steel spew about followers of Jesus. I only shared a short snapshot of what I read. The string of comments went on and on. It wasn’t long until one of the attacking clan aligned all Christians with Donald Trump and overall conservative political supporters. A few foolishly targeted Jesus Himself in their ramblings with despicable adjectives I cannot repeat here.

One of the complaints my old pal had, surrounded the fact that there were some people who responded badly to the man who questioned using the cross as a memorial symbol. Some were defending the cross vigorously from a faith-based point of view, others were chewing on the guy from a civics perspective. However, many replied to him in a loving way. In all cases, everyone was lumped into the “Christian” pile, a pile to burned, or eaten by lions. Been there, done that. Yet, frankly, many did not answer him with an attitude of love, but more on the scale of scrapping with an enemy. The baby hits the ground with the bathwater. Some lambs do roar. Other lambs are just so tired of being attacked by popular culture who thinks a person of faith is a Neanderthal. One vomiting up, “Most of them are uneducated!” (They should remember that whenever they pass by a Presbyterian Hospital, Methodist Hospital, Baptist Hospital, etc.) Otherwise, if Christians stay silent, inactive, and keep their teachings only inside four walls on a Sunday, then all will be right with the world. But a city on a hill can’t be hidden, can it? Salt and light alters things. The Cornerstone continues to cause many to stumble on their dark paths. The spewing haters don’t realize it, but they are indeed proving the scripture to be so accurate.

You might say, “Hey, Alan, wake up and smell the coffee. Are you new to today’s world?”

I spent most of the 1980’s on a job where I was mocked for my faith daily. I’m no stranger to this at all. My reply to such a question lies with another question. What if you take out the word “Christians” from the hateful circle of vile, and replace it with…Jews…Hindus…Muslims…Agnostics…Atheists…LGBTQ…Vets…Mexicans…The Disabled…Blue-eyed people…Bald people… Well, you get my point. The ones shouting, “RACISM!” are usually the most guilty of the sin. Take any of those titles and replace the word “Christians” and the Woke squadron would be all over you like ugly on Sasquatch. Am I right? Are you nodding your head?

I’m not biblically illiterate. Scripture states, humanity ran from God. We still do. We don’t want to be reminded there is a code for living, set by an ultimate Authority. Those who are still running from God’s arms want to make their own codes, their own roads, their own laws. After all, we have to validate whatever we do in action, word, or deed. Am I right? It’s very much like the crowd who shouts in the streets to defund the cops, or delete the police all together. It is why Jesus said if we follow Him, expect haters, expect stones to be thrown, flaming darts released, missiles to be launched. The bottom line here, it’s all part of an ancient Holy war. Israel understands that all too well.

Photo: Fox News Hamas rockets over Israel.

You might be asking yourself if I “Unfriended” my old high school screamer. No, I can’t bring myself to do that. However, for my sanity, I did take a “Break” from her.

Loving others can truly be a battlefield.

The highway of faith is a gauntlet, yet overcome by fuel for the race.

“Blessed are you whenever they revile you and persecute you and they say every evil word against you for my sake, in falsehood. Then rejoice and triumph, because your reward is great in Heaven, for just so they persecuted The Prophets who were before you.” – Jesus – Matthew 5:11-12 (Aramaic Bible In Plain English)

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